I totally stole this idea from blacksatinrose, but not only do you get shiny music, you get drabbles as well. I don't know if that is a selling point or not.
Textures by dearest
i. stereophonics - step on my old size nines
The roof is really House's hiding spot, but Wilson's up here by himself tonight, because he needs the fresh air, the break from the paperwork. The night air is cool and clear. Perfect, really, for this sort of thing. He looks up, and he can see the stars clearly. They're beautiful.
When he was ten, he told his parents he was going to be a doctor, and they'd laughed, because every kid has a doctor phase. Both his brothers had doctor phases. They thought it would pass for him, too. There were times when James almost believed it, too.
And yet, James is the one that's here, on the top of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, staring at the stars.
ii. the beatles - for no one
Sarah leaves with a note, a yellow post-it on the refrigerator. James pulls it off, crumples it, and throws it in the trash, before sitting down at the kitchen table and staring at the stove.
I'm leaving, the note says. Don't wait up.
James wasn't planning on it.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
iii. straylight run - mistakes we knew we were making
After a fight with Julie, he crashes on House's couch, and House rolls his eyes when he opens the door. "I don't know why you keep coming back here," he says. (Wilson smiles, because for all of House's griping, he knows House will always let him stay.)
"Thanks," he says. (What he doesn't say is that he doesn't know why he keeps coming back, either.)
They fall into familiar patterns, because they've done this often enough that's it's become routine. House pesters (because he can't stand not knowing), and Wilson doesn't tell him, and they sit in front of the television and watch baseball instead of talking about it.
"It's not going to last, is it?" House asks, finally, and it's so close to being a serious question it throws Wilson for a loop.
"Probably not," Wilson replies.
iv. bob dylan - don't think twice, it's all right
After Julie tells him, the first thing he does is pack. It's not in a fit of rage or irritation or betrayal, or anything that could possibly be mistaken for haste. It's more resigned than that. They've been waiting for that moment, waiting for the thing that would break them apart. At this point, it was inevitable.
She floats around the doorway, watching, face mostly impassive, as he neatly packs his shirts, his pants, his ties, and that doesn't make him anything besides tired.
When he leaves, he kisses her on the cheek and murmurs a goodbye into her ear.
v. alicia keys - why do i feel so sad?
It's dark in his hotel room. It's quiet.
He sits and stares and the bland, unoffensive hotel art, wondering how exactly he ended up right here, right now.
He can trace it, he thinks. An argument there, an affair here, the times he spent at the hospital instead of at home. They form a map of his life; here is how James Wilson got from point A to point B.
When he asks himself if he'd want to go back, take a different road, see where it would take him, part of him says yes and part of him says no. There are so many things he regrets, so many things he can't regret.
And in the end, it doesn't matter, really, because he's still here, still a dark hotel room, still alone, remembering a time when he wasn't.
vi. john legend - she don't have to know
He doesn't usually do it on purpose (at least not at first). It will be as innocent as he tells House, but then there will be a smile, a laugh, something that means that the next thing he knows is that he's kissing her, they're in his room (or her room), and it's all moving faster than it should (he knows this, of course, but that doesn't stop him, doesn't slow him down.)
It's a rush, at first, to be wanted like that, to feel needed, but it drifts away (like they do), and then he's on to the next one. Every time, he thinks (hopes) that this time, this one will stick, this one will last forever.
They never do.
vii. moby - extreme ways
Most of Wilson's patients are dying. There was a time when that would depress him, would put him into a black mood for weeks, but these days, it's just a matter of fact.
Today, it's a ten-year-old boy, and Wilson can look at him without feeling anything. His parents are around, looking worn out, looking like they're about to give up. Wilson almost wonders why he's doing this, why he's doing everything in his power to prolong their suffering.
He watches as they say they talk, as the boy's heart rate monitor suddenly flatlines and everything ends in an instant. The parents break down in front of him, sobbing. "I'm sorry," he says and the words feel automatic and used. He's said it so many times he doesn't even think about them anymore.
"Thank you," the mother says through her tears, and it hits him, a smack across the face. Their son is dead, and they're crying. They're crying because their son is dead.
"I'm sorry," he says again, but this time he means it.
viii. brown derbies - stand by me
"I fucking hate you," House says, the first time Wilson comes over after the operation.
"Here to lessen your guilt by making sure I haven't killed myself yet?" House says the fifth time Wilson comes over after the operation.
"Still a cripple! You don't have to keep coming around to see if I've magically regrown muscle tissue," House says the seventh time Wilson comes over after the operation.
"Oh, it's you again," House says the eleventh time Wilson comes over after the operation.
"Well, if you're going to be annoying me, we might as well get drunk for it," House says the sixteenth time Wilson comes over after the operation.
The sixteenth time, Wilson takes House's beer, settles down on his couch, and smiles. House will probably be all right. Probably.
ix. u2 - summer rain
He fell in love with Julie in the summer, when he wasn't sure he could again, when he thought that maybe it was smarter to quit after two.
It wasn't a slow build, an evolution, it was a flash of understanding, sudden and sharp. They'd been leaving a coffee shop after a lunch date, when they'd been caught in a sudden downpour. Julie had laughed, bright and clear and joyful, turning her head up to face the sky. Her smile was warm, a wry tug at the edge of her lips, and even though her dark hair had been plastered to her face, her clothes soaking wet, he thought she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen in his life.
Years later, after the divorce, he will get caught in another sudden downpour as he walks from the hospital doors to the parking lot, and without even realizing he's doing it, he will turn his head up to face the rain.
x. wilco - i am trying to break your heart
Wilson's life moves in circles, in patterns. It's frustrating, the way the endings always look like the beginnings, the way things just repeat, second verse same as the first.
Things break. They rebuild. It all comes and goes (patterns, just like that). His wives, his affairs, his patients. They're all variations on the same themes, over and over again.
House drifts in and out, distant and close. The leg doesn't change anything, really, not between them. It's just another shot at the beginning, another chance for Wilson to relearn everything from the bottom up.
It's why, when they pull apart over Tritter, he feels it, but he doesn't think for a second that it will last.
His life moves in circles, Wilson knows. The beginnings always look like the endings, too.
the whole mix as a .zip