Title: Three Words

Author: Phantom Freedom

Pairing: House/Wilson?

Genre: Angst/Romance

Warnings: One-sided love. Slash. Adult themes and situations. Don't like Don't read.

Language: English

Complete or Incomplete: Incomplete

In character or OOC: enh… I think it's pretty in character

Rated: T

Summary: "Because I'm in love with you." Those six words turn House and Wilson's world upside down and "I'm not in love with you." can surprisingly right it. Wilson confesses his unrequited feelings in an argument. The only question is, can he change that?

Story Word Count: 1,381

Chapter: One

Chapter Title: I miss you.

Chapter Word Count: 1,381

Chapter Excerpt: "So… I'm an idiot. An idiot who's in love with a selfish, narcissistic, sarcastic… closet romantic, genius, secretly caring… cold-hearted, brutal, arrogant… funny…asshole. An idiot who's in unreciprocated love with said asshole. I wouldn't be as much of an idiot if he loved me back… damn… I'm screwed."

POV: Switches from House's POV to Wilson's, back and forth throughout the entire story.

Disclaimer: I'm a fifteen year old girl with a very over active imagination. If I owned them, there would have been awesome EXPLICITE Hilson scenes, about five years ago. The show would also have to be on HBO. Lol. I wish…

Requests: Reviews! Helpful criticism?

"Because I'm in love with you!"

My head shoots up and I meet the wide brown eyes of a shell shocked oncologist with his hand pressed against his mouth, so hard that I'm afraid he'll break something. His eyes are wide enough, that in any other situation, it would be comical. I open my mouth to speak but before I know what's happening, he's gone.

I don't even know what we were arguing about. All I remember are the last few things said.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" says Wilson, a little to loudly and with a bitterness to his voice that pierces me to my core.

I meet his brown eyes with my blue ones. "Then why the hell are you still here? Why the fuck are you still my best friend? Anyone with a brain would have left years ago. But you… you stay and take it… it doesn't make any fucking sense!" I shout back, across my apartment.

Something fills his eyes for a moment, and with a passion and fury I didn't know he possessed he slams me against the wall. His eyes are dark and filled with that passion. "Because I'm fucking in love with you!" he shouts. And my breath catches.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Why he stays even though I push him away, why he watches me sometimes when he doesn't think I'm looking, why when he's drunk he compliments me for no reason, and opens his mouth like he's gonna say something but then thinks better of it and closes it. But then one thing doesn't. Why would Wilson, Wilson OF ALL PEOPLE!, fall in love with me? He could do so much better. He has done so much better.

I rest my hand on the piano next to the wall I was shoved into and put all my weight into it. With the other, I absentmindedly rub my bad leg. I'm in pain and it courses through me. But not just from my leg. My chest and head throbbed just as badly. I pop a vicodin and lean my head back against the wall.

So, why would Wilson love me? It just doesn't make sense…

God, am I pale. There are bags under my eyes and I look miserable.

I just had to say it, didn't I? I had to tell him that I'm in love with him. And then run. Run! If I had just laughed and said something about the look on House's face then maybe I would be arguing with House and slapping his hand away from my French fries… maybe I wouldn't be hiding in the bathroom.

So… I'm an idiot. An idiot who's in love with a selfish, narcissistic, sarcastic… closet romantic, genius, secretly caring… cold-hearted, brutal, arrogant… funny…asshole. An idiot who's in unreciprocated love with said asshole. I wouldn't be as much of an idiot if he loved me back… damn… I'm screwed.

I push away from the mirror and walk out of the bathroom. On autopilot, I walk to House's office and chance a glance in. He's staring at his tennis ball, with his feet propped up on the desk, lost in thought. He had been that way a lot lately, and he doesn't have a case.

Suddenly, his head turns to me and we lock eyes. His ice blue eyes are fuzzy, but abruptly, they snap into focus. He sits up, unexpectedly, and makes to get up, but I'm gone in a flash. As long as he doesn't say we're not, I can still pretend we're best friends.

It's been a week.

A week since I've seen him last.

And two weeks, since our argument and his confession.

I cant stop thinking about him. Those 2 minutes are stuck on repeat in my head. I'm going over every little moment together. Looking for those hints that he felt more then just friendship for me…

and finding millions of them.

I'm going back as far as I possibly can, looking for when they start.

When they weren't there.

When I know he didn't love me.

The best I can do is over five years ago.

Five years.

He's had feelings for me that long?

Fuck.

I try and put myself in his shoes. What would it be like, being in love with someone like me. Being in love with your best friend? Watching him enter relationship after relationship, bed girl after girl, and slowly dieing inside.

I suddenly have and intense hatred of my self.

An icy sort of numbness had begun to develop in me. I had developed a hatred and self-loathing for my sheer existence in just that one crucial fact. I couldn't stand hurting him. The odium and intense contempt for myself, had gathered in the pit of my heart. From there it had swiftly began to develop with every pain I realized I had caused him. I despised that sensitivity of being dead, anesthetized to everything but of that pain. Tunnel vision, I suppose it's called. The capability to fail at seeing past anything, with the exclusion of only one existence, whether it be an object, feeling, or other person or dream alike.

I force myself into analyzing my own feelings for him.

Abruptly, the phone jarred me from my thoughts. I reflexively jerked it from my pocket to see Wilson's name on the screen. I listened to his new ring tone: 'I miss you' by Blink 182.

I cant help but smile at the song but I couldn't bring myself to answer the damn thing. I wouldn't know what to say.

Would he pretend it never happened?

Would he apologize?

Tell me he didn't mean it, when we both now knew he did?

Would I let it slide just to have my best friend again?

I waited for him to leave his voicemail, then retrieved it.

"House? It's uhh… me… Wilson… Well, duh-you know that. God… um… I just needed to hear your voice. Okay, so I'm an idiot and I royally fucked up. I should have never said- I should have never said- that… that I'm in love with you. I am, but I shouldn't have said it.

I'm not going to apologize for it, because… well I'm not sorry for it. I wish I wasn't in love with you. It doesn't- I uh… don't know why I am, but I am. And I- uh… miss you…

Can we just go back to how things used to be. I'm not going to say I don't want more… but what I want I'm not going to get. So, I'll take what I can get.

Well, I guess that's it. Goodnight, Greg. And happy birthday to me."

I exhale and close my eyes. It's his birthday, that's right. I bite my lip and jolt off the couch. I grab my keys off the table and shrug on my jacket. I bang the door open and slam it behind me. I'm a man on a mission and…

I'm not in love with him.

TBC