Summary: Music is sounds. Beautiful sounds, but that's what it is. But sometimes those sounds can tell a beautiful story. Slight Huddy, but House centric.
Disclaimer: Well, I have a house, and in that house I have House S1. But House, MD is not my propery.
A/N: This story was inspired by the song 'My Dream' by Thomas. Yeah…. I don't know what else to say, except please leave a review.
Music. It is just sounds, nothing more. And yet it's something special. Those sounds can create so many wonderful melodies. It could be the soothing tunes from a piano or the quick beat of a drum where the echo alone can wake you up.
To some people, music is just music. It was either good or bad. You listen to it and either think that whoever sings it is great or horrible.
But there are some people who can see beyond that and reach a point where the music almost talks to them. It tells them a story without ever using words. It almost performs a play for them, shows them what really happened. It tells them sad or happy stories. About hate or friendship stronger than anything on Earth.
And of course about love. Loosing love, gaining love, falling in love or falling out of it. Love is what makes the world go around. Love is all you need. L is for the way someone looks at you. O is for the only one you see. V is very, very extraordinary. E is even more than anyone that you adore.
Gregory House was one of those people. He could see the story the music told. He could see the persons as clearly as though he had actually been a witness to what the music described.
When he was in Junior High, he had composed one of his best pieces ever. Who inspired it? His father. A man he had hated for so long, who had already caused so much darkness and destruction in his life already, had actually inspired him to a bit of beauty? It didn't, and had never, made sense for him.
Now, things had changed. His father was dead, but the memories were still very much alive. Kept alive by that very same piece. A piece he had only shared with few people, and only one had seen beyond. Only one person had seen the story behind it. Patrick, a moronic man but brilliant pianist. House hadn't been able to finish it himself. How could he? He had no idea how his life would turn out.
But then Patrick had taken over, and made a perfect ending. His story had been about happiness. About how House would one day get married, have a kid and live happily ever after. The perfect ending. A bit too perfect for a misanthropic, drug addicted bastard. He didn't bother to waste time hoping this would one day come true. He knew it never would. He knew the one he really wanted would never be his.
He knew he would always be staring from a distance. He was close, but never close enough. He would watch as she dated loser after loser, none of them good enough for her. And he knew she would never want him.
His dream? He didn't even know what it was. Was it being a brilliant, yet lonely doctor for the rest of his life? Nothing else but the scotch and the Vicodin waiting for him at home? Did he really want to share his life with somebody and, in that case, her?
He had no idea.
He remembered once, a very long time ago, when Wilson had gotten angry with him.
"Is this really all you want? You push everybody who might care just a little about you away. You spend every minute of your time drunk, high or diagnosing." There had been a slight pause. "It's no wonder you can't find love. You've just given up!"
"Maybe I don't want love," House had answered as calm as he could.
Maybe he didn't want love
Maybe he want love
Maybe he want
But now, it was all ruined. Just because Cuddy's 'adorable' daughter had to have that stupid Jewish ceremony. Just because Cuddy had invited him too. Why did that have to mean something?
And why had he just played their story?
Their first meeting in the book store. Their night together. The damn leg. The fighting/banter/ sexual tension thing between them. The kiss after she had lost Joy. "I think we're supposed to kiss now." It was all there, hidden in the notes. He had played it himself. What an idiot he was.
But this song had an ending. It ended with something he had never expected.
"You wanna kiss me, don't you?"
"I always wanna kiss you."
A single kiss which quickly turned passionate had ended the song, and left him sitting there, staring at the 88 keys. He had no idea what had just happened. Why had he suddenly broken down the Great Wall of China around his heart and played it?
"It's not too late" a small voice said in the back of his head, but he forced it away. No, he wouldn't go to the kid's ceremony. He would stay right here, and the last thing he was going to do was think about her.
It was for the best, he finally decided as he began to play "You Can't Always Get What You Want." She didn't need him.
But did he need her?
"You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, you might find
You get what you need"
Nat King Cole - L-O-V-E
The Beatles – All You Need is Love
You Can't Always Get What you want - Rolling Stones
I hope you enjoyed this little story.