Chapter Text
He's doing better. Try to believe him because he's doing his best. Of course no one believes it, oh no it's impossible to make someone believe such a big lie, you have to believe it yourself, and House will never believe he'll be okay after learning he took the life of his own reason for living.
But at least he's out. He doesn't know how, or why, but he's out. No one has the courage to watch him die slowly so he's left to die alone, nothing much different than he'd planned although he'd have preferred to do it with Wilson by his side.
House has never given flowers to anyone before today.
But today he wants to overcome his fear, he wants to grow up, he wants to live for Wilson, it may be bad, but it's a start, he hopes anyway.
The man liked lilies, House doesn't like flowers, so he bought him some, because that's what love is, it's loving, loving to the point of losing your senses, but yet Wilson made them come alive in him like you feel love in a romantic sonnet.
That's what it means to be loved. Loving blinds us but enlightens our lives. Being loved moves us forward on this new path. Love is like a ride that never stops, despite the bad weather, the blazing sun, the mud that knocks us down so many times we stop counting, the beautiful landscapes. One by one, steps are created. One by one, new works of nature are revealed. One by one, love becomes a challenge that seems infinite and that we win together.
House has never given flowers to anyone, let alone lilies, let alone Wilson. Yet here he is, because he understood too late when he lost Wilson that growing up is scary and painful, but that growing up is essential for loving, dreaming and living.