Wilson had left.

House looked around the apartment that only held himself, because Wilson had left him. The loneliness pressed on his chest and he sunk deeper into the couch cushions. How could he just up and leave? Stupid, stupid idiot of a doe-eyed oncologist. Why did he even fall for him in the first place?

Maybe he fell for the way that Wilson indulged his silly pranks and almost always went along with them. Or the way that Wilson looked at him with those big brown eyes. Or the way Wilson kissed him, with so much passion and thought. Or the way Wilson made love to him, instead of just fucking. Or the way Wilson didn't seem to be able to get enough of him, needing to touch him every opportunity he got. Or maybe it was the way Wilson cuddled up to him in his sleep, holding tight as if he never wanted to let go.

Not that any of that mattered anymore, cos Wilson had left.

House went to work, as usual. He took a case, he tortured his fellows, he yelled at incompetent nurses. He did everything he normally did, but Wilson was still gone.

One day House was particularly nasty, which made Taub ask about Wilson; which in turn just made House even more nasty towards him. How dare he mention Wilson, when Wilson had just left?

House had to face it; life sucked without Wilson. He missed him. He barely ate, not just because there was no one there to eat with him, like Wilson usually did, but because he had no appetite whatsoever. He barely slept, he'd become so accustomed to having Wilson warm form pressed against his back, or Wilson's head on his chest, or using Wilson as a pillow that he couldn't fall asleep alone in a bed that was way too big for just him.

Maybe he should just get a single bed, now that Wilson had left.

He hated Wilson. He missed Wilson. He loved Wilson.

House was asleep, a rare occasion, lying on his side with the covers barely covering the lower part of his body. He shuffled in his sleep when he felt a warm weight press against his back and something wet on his neck.

Rousing himself slightly from this slumber, he instantly recognized the smell Wilson's cologne and the feel of Wilson's lips on his neck.

Sensing that he was awake, Wilson grabbed him tight and kept kissing his neck while murmuring, "Hi sweetheart, I missed you."

House merely humphed, before indignantly replying, "Yeah, well, you left!" and then tried to pull up the covers and free himself from Wilson's grip.

"Oh for God's sake House!" Wilson said as he grabbed on tighter to the older man, "I had to go to that conference, you know that! I was only gone for 4 days, I didn't leave you. I thought I'd explained this before I went?"

House just tried to bury himself in the pillow, but not before saying, "Still left me."

"Have you really spent the last 4 days thinking I'd left you? You are probably the biggest idiot on the planet!"

House turned around to look at Wilson at this point, a biting retort at the tip of his tongue, but the sight of Wilson, his Wilson, back here with him in their bed was more than he could handle. He buried himself in Wilson's chest, trying not to be bothered by the amused chuckle that escaped from Wilson at that, and just enjoyed the way Wilson embraced him while kissing his hair.

"I missed you to, House."

House didn't say anything, he didn't need to; Wilson had come back.