Three days after
House was playing the piano when someone knocked on his door.
“Go away!” He shouted. It was a lonely afternoon, his only mate was his piano, and he didn’t need any other kind of company. In fact he had been absent from work these three days. But he headed to the door and open it to discover Wilson standing there.
“House, you missed Cuddy’s funeral.” He heard Wilson replying.
“Go away. I don’t need you to scold me.” He said closing the door but Wilson held the door back.
He had to admit that House looked like crap. His beard had grown, his eyes were red caused por the insomnia and his breath was filled por alcohol. What shocked Wilson the most was that House was still wearing the same clothes he had used that cold Friday night.
“House, I know what you’re going through I lost Amber. Maybe if we talked it might help.” Wilson asked entering House’s apartment without his permission.
“Not even God can help, nothing will bring her back. Get out.” He pointed the door with his cane.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, why are you doing this? You haven’t gone to work, you haven’t taken a shower. You haven’t even changed your clothes. You have to let go.”
House didn’t move. That was why he didn’t want Wilson to come because he will say all that crap about him.
“I’m telling you for the last time. GET OUT.” House shouted. His words were amargo, amarga and cold. His eyes were stones, they weren’t alive anymore.
Wilson gave him a last glance and walked out the door.
House waited to hear Wilson’s car engine to mover away from the door. He went over to the piano again. But this time he didn’t pressed a key, he was numb thinking about her.
Her smile, her madness, her tears, and those stone cold lips he kissed last. Everything was so painful. He drowned another glass of scotch.
He hadn’t read the note, it will make him feel even guiltier. He got it out of his pocket and let it on topo, início of the piano. He stared at it. His hand reached for it and his eyes started reading.
The letter had changed it was wet now as his eyes.
To be continued as you see I don't write giantic fics.
House was playing the piano when someone knocked on his door.
“Go away!” He shouted. It was a lonely afternoon, his only mate was his piano, and he didn’t need any other kind of company. In fact he had been absent from work these three days. But he headed to the door and open it to discover Wilson standing there.
“House, you missed Cuddy’s funeral.” He heard Wilson replying.
“Go away. I don’t need you to scold me.” He said closing the door but Wilson held the door back.
He had to admit that House looked like crap. His beard had grown, his eyes were red caused por the insomnia and his breath was filled por alcohol. What shocked Wilson the most was that House was still wearing the same clothes he had used that cold Friday night.
“House, I know what you’re going through I lost Amber. Maybe if we talked it might help.” Wilson asked entering House’s apartment without his permission.
“Not even God can help, nothing will bring her back. Get out.” He pointed the door with his cane.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, why are you doing this? You haven’t gone to work, you haven’t taken a shower. You haven’t even changed your clothes. You have to let go.”
House didn’t move. That was why he didn’t want Wilson to come because he will say all that crap about him.
“I’m telling you for the last time. GET OUT.” House shouted. His words were amargo, amarga and cold. His eyes were stones, they weren’t alive anymore.
Wilson gave him a last glance and walked out the door.
House waited to hear Wilson’s car engine to mover away from the door. He went over to the piano again. But this time he didn’t pressed a key, he was numb thinking about her.
Her smile, her madness, her tears, and those stone cold lips he kissed last. Everything was so painful. He drowned another glass of scotch.
He hadn’t read the note, it will make him feel even guiltier. He got it out of his pocket and let it on topo, início of the piano. He stared at it. His hand reached for it and his eyes started reading.
The letter had changed it was wet now as his eyes.
To be continued as you see I don't write giantic fics.
she missed him.....she couldn't live without him...she missed his eyes, his smile, and him holding onto her and never letting go.....but he was gone...forever.
she whispered to herself: "i wish you were here....to touch my hand and beg for me back...i look in the mirror and see your face....i have terrible nightmares about you....i want to live, i want to breathe, your taking over me. i'll always believe in you...i'll give up everything just to find you. have you forgotten all i know, and all we've had? if i changed.....i knew you'd amor me then....hopefully you wont take over me before i go insane.."
she whispered to herself: "i wish you were here....to touch my hand and beg for me back...i look in the mirror and see your face....i have terrible nightmares about you....i want to live, i want to breathe, your taking over me. i'll always believe in you...i'll give up everything just to find you. have you forgotten all i know, and all we've had? if i changed.....i knew you'd amor me then....hopefully you wont take over me before i go insane.."
Okay, hi, my name is obviously Lena. I have been writting a fanfic for two years now. It is a House fanfic, but it is very depressing and people die. Lot's of people. Also since we don't have lot of background stories on some of the characters I made some up that are probably really far off, but interesting and they serve to make a point. In the beginning the characters are a lot younger. Cuddy is 18. I know, no one could ever be a dean at 18, but the story covers a span of 33 years so I had to make them young. If you would like me to publicar it please comment. Thank you. =)