Chapter Text
House fell first but Wilson fell harder. House fell in love with the beautiful young oncologist he saw from across the bar in New Orleans. He knew he was attracted for him the moment his eyes met the melted chocolate brown ones, the sadness and pain filling them to the brim, making their colour darker than it probably should be. They were carrying too much pain for someone so young. Seconds later House's eyes fell onto the yellow envelope so carefully folded between the doctor's, whose name his didnt know, fingers, as if the younger was hiding the said envelope from the world, or rather from himself, as House noticed that it hadn't been opened. There were divorce papers hidden away, tucked into the rough yellow paper, House didn't have to read them to know that.
From that moment on, he knew he had to get closer. He had to at least try and talk to the charming man. His plan to get to know him was crushed when two police officers handcuffed and led the oncologist away from the bar after he had almost started a bar fight over a song... The devastating look on the oncologist's face only made House more interested. He didn't let go of the initial attraction to the younger, so he bailed him out, simple as that. Paid a fair amount of money just to have a single conversation with the other man, whose name he didn't even know yet. He was determined to make the conversation worth it. Even to this day, bailing Wilson out of prison was the best decision he had ever made. Nothing could top that. That night, while they were talking to each other in a different bar, being the only two left, sharing a few beers, and getting to know each other, House knew he had fallen for the sweet man sitting in front of him. His heart was making that weird motion that it only made when he was nervous; he felt this sudden urge to touch, feel, smell, taste, and just be closer to the other doctor, James Wilson, as he had learned his name was.
If it were anyone else House would have kissed them that same night, probably slept with them as well, but between Wilson and House things could never go as smoothly. Wilson was still holding the yellow envelope, House had a girlfriend at the time as well. And these were problems, sure, but the biggest problem was that House knew that he didn't want Wilson to just be a hookup, an experiment, he wanted this feeling to last, he wanted to love and be loved, so he waited. And waited, and waited....
They stayed in touch after the conference, talking on the phone every week for a couple of hours and even making an effort to see each other every few months.House's feelings stayed the same, but the longer he waited to say anything, the more confident he was that Wilson would never return those feelings. So eventually he stopped hoping, decided against ever saying anything. He figured it would be the best to hide them forever, because even if Wilson did want him, what were they supposed to do. They were two men, two respected doctors, during that time, being gay was still frowned upon, their friends would have something to say, patients would be judgmental, parents probably disown them... It was maybe too much work. So House gave up, he bottled all these emotions down into himself, locked them with a key that he threw into the river, promising to never unlock them again. He was always good at not expressing himself, anyway.
Wilson didn't fall for House right away. He was too busy being depressed over his recent divorce and too happy to have finally made a friend. He was also too deep into denying his sexuality to even think about having feelings for another man. Their friendship, however, always meant so much to him that he felt this strange connection, like he couldn't ever let go of House or get far away from him without, well, missing him. He needed House just as much as everyone thought that House needed Wilson. He needed someone to make him let loose, stop being so uptight and careful with everything. The moment he realised that his love for House actually crossed the line of what one friend feels for another was when they started working together at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
And Wilson, unlike House, wasn't that good at keeping his feelings tucked away somewhere. That's maybe why he married the first girl he laid his eyes onto, or maybe that was because he wanted to do what was expected of him, as always. The exact moment he realised he was in love wasn't even that special or different, there were no fireworks, nothing too memorable. It was a simple morning. He and House were sitting at the hospital's cafeteria, talking about their new patients over tasteless sandwiches and not salty enough french fries. Wilson probably said something funny, because House laughed, and while laughing he placed a hand on Wilson's leg, probably on accident, but still, that simple, gentle touch, and the laughter of his friend stayed engraved into his memory. He would often remember that moment, he thought about it for days. It was strange for a grown man to have an identity crisis, but it wasn't strange for the two of them.
He managed to last about a week without confessing. That's as far as he could go without having to shoot his shot, the feelings have been practically pouring out of him every day since he realised those feelings until he told House about them.
'I can't fucking do this.' he said, exactly seven days after their little moment in the cafeteria. Wilson slammed a patient file down onto his work desk and stood up from his chair, walking over to the diagnostician, who looked at him with one eyebrow raised in confusion, not really saying anything, waiting for an elaboration.
Wilson put his hands on his own hips, a significant pose for him and then he just said it, as if it was nothing. 'I am in love with you, House.' He shrugged after a moment of silence, then after another moment he sighed, looking at House, who seemed to not have a reaction at all, he just stared back, the same confused look never leaving his face, so Wilson tried to say something again, but just as he opened his mouth to speak he was cut off.
'Good. I feel the same way. I'm glad you told me, but we aren't going to be together.' he said calmly, or as calmly as he could at least, trying his best to not let all the emotions take over him, pushing them back down inside of himself.
Wilson didn't seem to be able to process that answer. First he smiled, then the smile dropped into something that seemed more like a frown, a grimace nonetheless. Then he closed his eyes for just a moment, but when he opened them his expression was blank.
'I'm...not really following.' he said quietly, asking for an explanation. House rolled his eyes as he hated to overexplain things. He loved keeping things simple, explaining anything, especially his feelings made them way too real, but this was Wilson, and Wilson would get anything from House if he just as much as asked. So he elaborated.
'Look, I lov- like you too. I figured that out way back then in New Orleans, so I had a while to think about it. And we can't be together. ' he made a small pause, to think of the best way to explain the next part. As Wilson opened his mouth again to, probably, argue with him, House raised his hand up, as a sign to keep quet. 'We work well as just friends. I think I will probably feel something more towards you forever, but I don't think it's smart to risk everything for the slight possibility of us working out as a couple. Because if we do try it out, we can't continue being friends afterwards. Then, the logistics just... We work here, HR would have to know, our colleagues would eventually find out too, however careful we might think we are, it only takes one mistake for everything to go down the drain. Our friends would drop us and we would probably lose our jobs. So, my advice is to just forget about whatever you are feeling.' he spoke quietly as well, his voice confident and stern, but his eyes giving away just the slightest bit of sadness. The damn eyes, they were always so expressive, House thought of them as his biggest weakness, he couldn't hide anything because of them, they acted like mirrors, showing so clearly everything he was ever feeling. And there was no person on this planet who could read them better than the man standing in front of him.
But Wilson just nodded, one slow nod of his head before he walked back to his work desk. He opened the patient file, started reading it again. Their conversation was over as fast as it had started, they both went back to work, as if nothing had ever happened. As if they haven't just shared their biggest secrets with one another. As if it were normal for them to have to lie to themselves for the rest of their lives. But they were House and Wilson, and if they had to they would. So they did.
That's when Wilson fell harder. Each passing day he felt himself fall more and more, each time he saw House he felt his heart filling with just a tiny bit more love for the other man, at times it felt like he couldn't love him more than he already did, but then House would smile, just for Wilson, just for a moment, and his body would make just a bit more space for love. The moment it started overflowing he decided it was time he do something about it. So he distanced himself, he met a girl, started dating her, then he got married. And he was happy, he loved her, she loved him. But she could never compare. He imagined that if one day House decided to change his mind he would break things off with Bonnie in a heartbeat. But House didn't change his mind. In fact, they never even talked about it again, there were moments, sure, when they didn't have to say anything, the smell of love spread through the air, illuminating the room they were in, but they never said anything about it, they would just look into each other's eyes until one of them broke eye contact and the moment would be gone.
There were months when they felt as if they were finally doing fine, as if their emotions weren't getting in the way of their friendship, or their relationships outside of it. For Wilson's wedding, for example, House being the bestman, it was almost fine. It felt as if they finally figured everything out, but then House left the wedding party an hour after it had begun, sneaking out without saying a word to anyone. That was the moment they figured out that nothing was actually fine, and it wouldn't ever be, not really. They could just keep pretending it was, though.
Probably the hardest period was during House's infarction and the few months after that. Wilson would never forgive himself for not being there while House was at the hospital. He was on his honeymoon, enjoying his play pretend life while he could, away from work and away from House, away from reality, too. When he returned he almost had a heart attack. But it was already too late to do anything, to late to help, so he promised himself he would never again leave. He tried to compensate for his absence by being there during the whole recovery period. He was there when House went back home. He would go and check up on him every morning before and evening after work. He knew how annoying Stacy found it to be, but seeing a smile on House's lips after weeks of literally screaming in pain and agony, made him forget all about it.
Then Stacy left. And Wilson was there to take her place. He practically moved in that day, not leaving House's side except when he was at work. He hadn't been home in weeks. He would spend his mornings and evenings with the older man. Now crippled, looking ten years older than he did only a month ago, and heatbroken on top of that. It would break Wilson's own heart to hear soft sobs late at night from House's bedroom.
One of these nights, he couldn't help himself. He had to go and do something, say something, anything. He knew how much House hated people caring for him, pampering him, he saw it all as pity, but that night House allowed himself to be pitied. Wilson sneaked into his bedroom, then behind him into his bed. House didn't even try to hide the sobs, it felt so strange seeing somebody who was always so strong break down like that, into half the man he used to be, House was unrecognisable to Wilson. He gently put his arms around the other man, hugging him, but it honestly looked a lot like spooning. The moment his arms locked around tightly, House started to cry just a tiny bit harder, just a decibel louder, tears just a bit wetter, and running a bit faster down his cheeks and into the pillow.
During that period of time Wilson felt his heart break and stitch itself up every single day. Every night it would break for House, his love for him spilling all over the place, and House must have noticed, but he didn't say anything, he allowed himself a few months of weakness, a few weeks of tasting what it might have been like if they gave their relationship a shot, and it felt good, which made the whole thing so bittersweet. After that one night Wilson would occasionally sneak into House's bed, only on the worst nights, only when nothing else seemed to calm his friend enough. Every morning he would feel his heart healing itself, building itself back up around all that love he felt when he saw House sleeping so peacefully. He only seemed to be at peace when deep in his dreams, and peace looked so good on him, it was devastating that he couldn't have it more often.
When Wilson was finally moving back out, back to his wife, they both cried. The suitcase was already in the hallway of the apartment building where House's flat was,Wilson already had his car keys out of his pocket when they both broke down. They could lie and say they were crying because of what had happened, losing a leg, a girlfriend was really tough after all, or maybe they could say that they were crying because they just had sooo much fun living together, or any other stupid thing they could come up with, but they were crying because of missed opportunities, because they were flipping the page, closing the chapter, moving on. The tears were flowing because of what could be, what might have been, what could have been, would have been, if only they met at a different time, if only their love wouldn't define them and mark them as outcasts of society for the rest of their lives. They hugged each other extra tight, and then Wilson pulled away first, looked into the two little mirrors that everyone called eyes on House's face, and he leaned in, his lips only millimetres away, sharing the air between them, warmth spreading from one body to another, all the unsaid words and declarations fitting in that tiny space between them, and then House pulled away just as the lips were about to touch.
'I hope that in some other universe we are what we can't be in this one. ' And then he closed the door of his apartment, but through the peephole on his door he could see Wilson still staring back at the door, as if he knew House was looking back. House watched the other man go through all five stages of grief in the next few moments. First denial, as he reached for the door handle, anger when his hand made a fist and he brought it back towards himself forcefully, after that the bargaining as he stood there, opening and closing his mouth a few times, debating whether he should yell something back through the door, plead, cry, beg... and then depression, when just a single heavy tear escaped his warm eye and fell down onto the floor, House imagined that it made a sound as it fell down. The last was acceptance, Wilson took a deep breath, and walked away.