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Chapter Text

James rubbed his eyes; it was very difficult to keep any type of concentration in class that day. He felt like he was going to fall asleep soon.
The professor’s voice was a low buzz and he had too much for lunch, he was exhausted.
He looked outside of the window and a quiet snow was falling, it reminded him of his days at the Welton Academy, of his friends, of Todd.

No, stop.
He could not think about that now, or ever.
A scream that broke his voice. Knees in the snow.
James tried to snap out of that feeling, looking at the blackboard. What was the class about? What time was it?

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone

NO, NO, NO.
The words of W.H. Auden filled his head.

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Todd’s laugh reading this at their meetings, one rainy day.
James clutched the edge of the desk.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is dead’

“I’m sorry, professor, I don’t feel good, may I leave?” James stood up. The whole class turned to look at him.
“Of course, we’re almost done anyway”
He did not even let him finish before he was already out.
James was walking fast in the university corridor, trying to run from his own thoughts. Breathing was becoming difficult.
“Five things that I can see…” he murmured to himself “The floor, the- my bag, my shoes…”

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

James let out a frustrated grunt, he was practically running.
He saw an open door that led to the courtyard and ran out in the snow, a shock of cold air hit him.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

His vision blurred, he slipped into a hidden corner, fumbling with a cigarette he wasn’t really used to. It was just something to do, a way to keep his hands busy.
The cold bit at his face, sharpening his thoughts, slicing through the fog. Only then did he notice he had forgotten his jacket in the classroom.
He leaned against the wall of the building, smoking and counting his breaths. The world stared to return to focus, little by little.
Despite the snow and the cold day, the outside of the university was alive in a quiet way with students walking to classes and chatting. A couple of girls were laughing near the entrance, voices soft and far away. Someone entered the building with a stack of books under their arm.
Then he noticed him, a guy wearing headphones running laps around the courtyard, wearing only a thin tracksuit and a t-shirt, breath visible in the air. He really seemed to enjoy it, his shoes slapping against the wet pavement with precise rhythm.
James felt a shiver crawl up his spine just watching him. How could he even move like that in the cold?
The runner turned the corner, brown hair damped with sweat and snow, and he glanced at James for a second. He had the brightest blue eyes James had ever seen. There was also something mischievous about his expression, a hint of a smile, like he found some joy in the absurdity of running through falling snow.
James thought his face looked funny and chuckled.
That brought him back to the present. He left the cigarette fall on the ground, watching it die with a hiss, then rushed back inside, shivering.

James entered the classroom, most of the students were already gone, the professor was erasing the blackboard. He looked for his coat, but it was not on his chair.
“Looking for this?”
A girl with light brown hair and honey coloured eyes was standing behind him, his jacket folded over her arm “Oh, hi Mary, yes. Thank you.”
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You rushed out pretty fast. Everything okay?”
James hesitated, hand tightening on the strap of his bag. “Yeah. I just needed some air.”
“I see. Well,” she said, holding out the jacket, “I thought you might want it back before freezing to death.”
He took it, their fingers touching for an instant.
She lingered a second longer, like she wanted to say something else. “I was just about to go get coffee before my next class. Do you want to tag along?”
He almost refused, but he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now.
“Sure,” he said after a moment. “Why not.”
Her smile widened “Great. There’s that little café across the square. Me and my friends always go there”
As they walked out together, he cast one last glance toward the courtyard through the tall windows, the snow was still falling, someone running in the distance.

Chapter Text

The café was small with colorful tables and chairs. Mary led the way to a table near the window. The air inside smelled like cinnamon and James liked it immediately.

“Very cozy,” he commented, sitting down.

“I know, right? I also like sitting here to look outside and spy on people,” she said, taking off her jacket.

James laughed. “Spy on… Oh, you have some snow in your hair,” he said and he reached out to brush it off. Mary looked incredibly pleased by this little gesture and James noticed that.

He stiffened, fully realizing that Mary was flirting with him.

She ordered coffee for both of them, and for a while they just sat there, sipping it.

Mary looked at him over her cup. “So, tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”

Is this a date?

James knew her, but not that much, so there were plenty of things she didn’t know about him. They had talked some time and worked together a couple of times.

“Well, I wanted to be an actor back in high school.”

Mary looked impressed.

“It would be less tiring than spending hours on medical textbooks, being constantly sleep deprived and you’d visit beautiful places and win an Oscar or something.”

“Actually I had a thing for the theatre. I was in a couple of performances.”

“Why did you stop, then?”

He was waiting for this question. “It wasn’t fun anymore. So, what about you? Besides spying on people for fun?”

“Oh, that,” she said, leaning forward, her chin on her hand. “You can tell a lot about someone from the way they walk, or what they do when they think nobody’s looking.”

James also leaned forward and said in a low voice, amused: “That’s fairly creepy.”

She grinned. “Only vaguely. Don’t worry, I don’t usually stalk people.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Good to know.”

“Take that guy that was jogging during a snow storm, for example. Did you see him?”

“Yeah! Hard not to notice.”

“Exactly. That’s Gregory House and you can tell that he was doing that on purpose.”

He blinked. “Wait, THE Gregory House?”

Mary nodded, pleased at his reaction. Everyone on campus knew him. Kind of a legend. He was supposed to be some kind of medical genius, brilliant, but odd. Not very good with people. Kind of a jerk, actually.

“You didn’t know him?!”

James could see the pieces falling into place. “I’ve heard the name. Just never knew what he looked like.”

“Well, now you know,” she said and leaned back on the chair. “You see, showing off like that, there must be a reason to do it. We just don’t know what it is.”

“Maybe he just likes it.”

“I bet he’s trying to prove a point.”

“Right.” Silence followed. James started to feel uneasy. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Why lingering on someone else’s motives?

“Why are we talking about him again?”

Mary studied him for a while. “I was explaining to you that I like to observe people. And in this case, have a good feeling that one was a bet that he had with someone.”

“How well do you know him?” Now he was fully upset.

“Oh, not at all. I’ve never spoken to House.”

“Then why are you obsessed with him?”

“I’m not obsess—”

“Have you been spying on me as well?”

Mary looked hurt.

“No…” she said slowly, like he was some sort of mental case. “I was just having fun, it didn’t mean anything.”

He looked at her, really looked. There was no anger in her face, only warmth. She wasn’t looking at him like he was crazy and he felt very stupid.

“Bad day?”

He hesitated. “Something like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said softly, “but sometimes saying it out loud helps. Makes it smaller, somehow.” Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand.

“I just…” he began, stopping himself. “It’s nothing, really. Just… memories. I don’t even know you.”

“Fair. I’m sorry I got you upset. I believe it’s time for my next class anyway.” She released his hand with a smile, grabbed her stuff, and put on her coat.

James was stubbornly looking at the table.

“Well, goodbye,” she said, leaving.

He watched her closing the door behind her and suddenly couldn’t remember the last time someone looked actively interested in him, in his well-being, in anything regarding his persona. Maybe a friend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Besides, he actually liked her.

He quickly got up, following her outside the door, leaving his coat behind for the second time that day. She walked fast and he had to scream her name to get her attention. She turned, a bit alarmed.

“Cinema on friday?” he said.

Mary smiled and nodded. 

Chapter Text

James was cold, it was the dead of winter, it was dark. The window was open, he had opened it.
Did he? He was in his father’s studio, the big desk in front of him. Oh, his father was in the other room, better be quiet.
He felt the weight of Puck’s twig crown on his head.
He was hot. He removed his t-shirt and he opened the window; it was very, very cold. 
A candle was burning on the desk. No, it was not. James adjusted the crown, then he opened the drawer.
A loud creak while it swung open. His hands were cold, that’s why he was shaking, right? 

There it was, wrapped in a handkerchief. Right, better be silent. He placed the gun on the desk, the light of the candle caressed the shiny metal.
The window was closed, again, James opened it and stood in front of it, breathing in the cold. Everything was ready. 

Then, a familiar voice called his name. He turned to look and in the complete darkness of the room stood Todd. And suddenly he was there, standing beside him. 
Without a word, Todd wrapped his arms around James’s neck. James let the gun fall on the ground to hug Todd back. 

I’ve missed you.

James was not going to let him go. That moment was forever. Every cell on his body screamed at him to cling, for that was love. 
James started to realize he was asleep, and he did his best to stay in the dream. 

But a door was slammed, his father was coming! 

Let’s hide. 

He kissed Todd’s hands and placed them on his face.

Let’s hide, please.

JAMES! His father’s voice came too close. The room was full with light now, the man was holding a book. James grabbed the book but it was too heavy, it fell on the ground. 

He woke, his heart hammering.
The room was freezing, he looked at the clock, it was only 5 a.m. James let a sigh out.
Todd had been his roommate at Welton, his closest friend. They had laughed together, argued, whispered secrets in the dark. Todd had been the reason he had dared to hope that he could be loved, since he could not get any love from his dad. 

The reason why Todd killed himself was said to be depression, not that it really mattered. Whatever it was, it had changed everything. 
Ten years had passed, but the pain was still there. Of course it was different now, but sometimes, especially in winter, these dreams and thoughts would come back to haunt him. James was happy that he got a chance to hug his friend, though.

What was a load of crap, he was miserable. 

In order to stop overthinking he decided to start studying. He went to his desk and grabbed his medical textbooks. He opened his pathology notes, he needed to memorize the patterns of disease, letting the details occupy his mind. 
Except that he was distracted. Movie night with Mary went pretty well, they watched Frankenstein and they loved every minute of it. He kissed her in the silent and dark room right after the movie.
James suddenly remembered that he was supposed to go to the convention that weekend. Him and other students had to attend the Princeton Biomedical Symposium. 
It was custom for every third year student to go “as a reminder that there’s a world beyond your textbooks,” they liked to say. Like he didn’t know. James had already started his clinical rotations and wanted to die.
He had no idea why he kissed Mary the night before, if not because she seemed to want it to happen. It was nice to take care of her, picking her up, noticing her perfume. Maybe that was the reason. 

Enough! 

He put his hands on his face and exhaled. Time to concentrate.

Hours later, James was getting ready to leave. He zipped his jacket, grabbed his bag, and stepped out into the hallway crowded with other students.
At the entrance of the building, near the mailboxes, something caught his eye: a small package with his name on it. He picked it, expecting a letter from his mother and froze when he saw the sender.
‘Margaret Anderson’, Todd’s mom.
How, why?
His fingers started shaking as he opened it. Inside, there was a folded envelope along with a small note.

“We found this letter among Todd’s things. We thought you should have it. M.”

James’s chest tightened.
Either the coincidence was almost unbelievable, or he was thinking about Todd too much.
He stared at the second envelope, he recognized his friend’s handwriting. 

“For James”

James couldn’t bring himself to open the letter. He desperately wanted to know what was inside of it, but he was too scared to do so, and exactly  like in his dream, he wanted to cling to the feeling of having him there as long as he could. So he placed it in the pocket of his jacket and left, a weight on his chest that started to hurt.

Chapter Text

The Princeton Biomedical Symposium was in its final minutes. The room smelled like sweat and coffee and the students were fidgeting, impatient. It had been a very long day and they were all looking forward to the buffet and open bar. No one was really paying much attention anymore, but the speaker either didn’t notice, or he was genuinely excited to explain cellular repair and the intricacies of protein synthesis at 6 p.m.
Even James, who was trying very hard to stay focused taking notes and repeating terms under his breath, preventing his thoughts from going where they were not supposed to, started to feel a little impatient. A little more than impatient, actually.
He wondered if the letter in his jacket could burn its way through his shirt and on his skin.
Mary was sitting close enough that their shoulders were brushing now and then. Her presence was overall comforting.
He cast a glance at his watch just to learn that the meeting should have ended ten minutes before. The room was suffocating, he started counting how many people were there, just to pass the time and he lost count a couple of times.
He daydreamed about pushing the speaker down the stairs of the stage and kicking him screaming “SHUT UP!!” and watching him explode in a thousands confetti and his fellow students congratulating him.

“You’re wrong.” a voice said suddenly, loud enough to stop the room.
Everyone turned, even the professor, who looked confused for a moment, his last sentence hanging in the air.
James rolled his eyes, tired. Who wants to make this even longer? he thought, pressing his fingers against his temple. He looked toward the back of the room and saw Gregory House with a gameboy in his hands, eyes half-focused on the screen clearly trying to finish a complicated level of whatever he was playing before adding:
“The enzyme you mentioned, helicase, it doesn’t repair the strand, that’s polymerase. Different job. But yeah, easy mistake.” He said with a sarcastic smile.
A few people laughed, others just sighed, happy for a distraction. The speaker looked a bit baffled. Not the same as pushing someone down the stairs, but equally satisfying, given the circumstances.
James looked at Gregory again and saw he was still smiling looking at the screen.

When the talk was over everyone migrated to the bar of the hotel and started to drink.
James followed them, in desperate need of something soothing. The bar was incredibly crowded, the lights were dim and James had a headache.
He tried to find a quiet spot in a corner to relax and maybe open that letter he couldn’t stop thinking about. There was something weird about receiving mail from a dead friend after ten years, it was something so precious, but also a reminder that he was still processing his grief. His hand reached for the inside of the jacket and took the envelope out.
For james
“James!” Mary appeared out of nothing, smiling “What do you say, let’s go for a walk? I need to move my legs”
“I don’t know, I think I need a moment by myself”
She seemed disappointed, then looked at his hands “What do you have there?”
“It’s private, I’m sorry.” he could see she wanted him to open a bit more, so he tried.
“Look, it’s from a person I used to know, high school stuff…”
“Is it part of those memories you talked about the other day?”
“Yes”
She nodded “Of course, I’m going to talk to my friends over there. Try to enjoy the evening and if you still want to hang out later, let me know”. She leaned for a kiss and he kissed back, a bit awkwardly from being among so many people and colleagues.
He watched her going away in the crowd. Now he wasn’t going to wait a second longer, he followed the urge to finally open and read the letter.

‘James,
I don’t know if I should write this at all, but I don’t know what else to do with these thoughts, and to leave without goodbye feels wrong.
I keep thinking about what you said the other night about how Auden makes everything feel like the world is bigger inside a few lines, like those ones you read me out loud:

“Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.”

I feel like I don’t belong anywhere.
Not in class, not at home, not even in my own head.
Except when I’m talking to you.
When I’m near you, it doesn’t hurt as much.
I wanted to tell you that.
Please don’t think you did anything wrong.
You never did.
I just can’t carry this weight anymore.
I wish I could stay longer.
Todd’

James lowered the paper slowly, tears in his eyes.
Everything around him was loud, laughter, clinking glasses, a song coming from the other side of the place, but his head felt silent, like he was in a bubble.
He read it again, eyes burning. He was 15 again.
All this time he had always thought that his friend had just left without a word, but the words were there in front of him. Why hadn’t he sent it? He couldn’t find an answer in those lines.
His eyes wandered on the page, studying the familiar handwriting, the way he wrote, pressing his letters to the left, or the C with that little curl at the end.
He leaned back against the wall, still holding the envelope, and he suddenly hated the idea of being surrounded by all these people.
People he barely knew, with bright futures. People who assumed he was fine. There was nothing more suffocating than being surrounded by all that lightness while feeling so heavy.

“Please don’t think you did anything wrong”

He tried to swallow but his throat was dry.
For a second, he thought about throwing the letter in the trash, like “enough, enough, enough.”
He stayed still instead.
Something in him changed. This was supposed to be some sort of closure, deserved. But he could not stop thinking about how much it would have been different for him if he had seen this letter when it was supposed to be received.

And then he became aware of how angry he actually was.
He suddenly felt stupid for thinking a drink would “soothe” anything, so he finally moved and started drinking even more.
It started small, the noise, the crowd, the music that had been looping for an hour, drilling into his brain.
There was too much movement, bodies pushing around him, that song repeated again and again. And again.
He saw Mary nearby with her friends, chatting, close to her he saw Gregory House who was actually looking directly at him, but he didn’t actually register that.
Todd’s last message had made him dizzy, or maybe it was the alcohol. Above all he wished the music would stop, so when the chorus came again he needed to feel anchored to something real and he reached for the first thing he could find: a bottle of whiskey.
Before his mind could even catch up, he was throwing it across the room hitting a big decorative mirror on the opposite wall. It cracked instantly and the bottle exploded into pieces.

The silence right after the impact was a relief. James’s mind was finally silent.

A voice yelled “What the hell!” someone bumped into someone else, someone screamed
“I’m calling the police”.

Chapter Text

The tiles of the holding cell were this horrible yellow color, the kind of yellow that only exists in bureaucratic nightmares. James sat on a metal bench, hands on his knees, and he had enough time to sober up at least a little.
Now he was left with a dry mouth and the stain of shame.
He rubbed his face with both hands, pressing hard, as if he could erase the memory of the last hours from his skin. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he got arrested.
Great, he thought. Good Job, James.
That was a great way to build a career.
He was probably supposed to spend the night in the cell, maybe longer. Not that he really cared. In fact, he had seriously considered refusing to leave even if they let him, just to avoid looking into the eyes of the people he knew.
Just thinking about the spectacle he had made of himself in front of everyone, colleagues, professors, Mary with her wide shocked eyes, was enough to make him feel nauseous again.
They'd been going out for what, a week? Ten days? It wasn't even a real relationship, yet. So whatever had been between them wasn't much of a loss. Right? Because he didn’t think she would want to see him again. And he felt guilty.
He sighed, tilting his head back against the cold wall. Everything in that room was designed to be uncomfortable: the fluorescent lights too bright, the smell of chemical disinfectant mixed with sweat.
He slipped a hand into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out the letter.
The paper was still slightly crumpled from when he had gripped it too hard at the bar. He unfolded it carefully, even though by now he knew it by heart.

When I'm near you, it doesn't hurt as much.

His eyes burned. He squeezed them shut, counting to ten, breathing through his nose.
He couldn’t understand how he was falling apart over a letter he should have received when he was fifteen. When maybe he could have done something.
No. Stop.
There was no "maybe." There never had been.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the words.

Please don't think you did anything wrong. You never did.

He wondered if Todd's mother had read it. Probably. He wondered what she had thought, finding it after all these years, in a drawer or a box in the attic. He wondered if she'd cried.
James folded the letter again, slowly. It was all he had left of Todd, besides memories. Something tangible, written in his hand. His words.
He looked at the digital clock hanging on the opposite wall 23:47 then looked back at the yellow tiles. He counted the rows. Twelve by eight. Ninetysix tiles total. Some had thin cracks at the corners.
He tried to imagine what he would say to the professors tomorrow. "I'm sorry, I had a difficult moment"? "It won't happen again"?
Maybe he should just quit medicine. Go home…He saw himself at fifteen, on the stage, full of life and stupid hopes.

A metallic sound made him jump. Footsteps in the corridor. James stiffened, how much trouble was he in?
The cell door opened with a creak.
"You're free to go," said the officer, a man in his fifties with the expression of someone who had seen everything and nothing surprised him anymore.
James blinked. "What?"
"Someone paid your bail."
For a moment he didn't understand. Then: "I... who?"
The officer gestured vaguely toward the corridor. "He said he's your friend."
James stood slowly, confused. He? A professor? Impossible. He thought it might be Mary, but obviously no, why would she.
"Who?" he repeated, but the officer had already turned away.
James walked out of the cell and followed the man through the narrow corridor to the reception area.
And there, leaning against the counter with an amused expression on his face, was Gregory House.
"Interesting show you put on tonight," Gregory said.
James stared at him, his brain still trying to catch up. House was wearing the same clothes from the symposium, jeans, a dark jacket, a green jumper. His hair was slightly messy, like he had been running his hands through it, or maybe it was just always like that.
"You..." James started, then stopped. "You bailed me out?"
"Yep." House pushed away from the counter with one hand, already turning toward the exit like the conversation was over.
"Wait," James moved forward "Why?"
Gregory glanced back over his shoulder "I was bored."
"That's it?"
"Pretty much." He kept walking. “Are you hungry? You owe me dinner.”
James stood there for a moment, confused, then hurried after him. The cold air outside hit like a slap. He had forgotten how freezing it was. His breath came out in white clouds.
"You don't even know me," James said, a nervous laugh escaping.
Gregory stopped next to a beat-up car and pulled out his keys.
"Of course I do," House said. "You're the guy who had a complete meltdown during the most boring conference ever held in human history. I know exactly who you are. I just don’t know your name"
James felt his face heat despite the cold. "That's not usually how I-"
"Don't worry. I'm not judging." Gregory unlocked the car. "I'm just curious. So, I know a Chinese restaurant open until late"
"Curious about what?"
But Gregory was already getting in the driver's seat and James got in.
The car smelled like coffee and something else, old books, maybe. The passenger seat had a medical textbook on it. James picked it up.
"Just throw it in the back." Gregory said, starting the car.
James did, then buckled his seat belt. For a moment neither of them spoke. The heater kicked on, blasting cold air that would eventually turn warm.
"So..." James started.
Gregory held up one finger, cutting him off, and reached for the car stereo. Music filled the space immediately. He turned it up slightly, then pulled out of the parking spot.
James sat back, unsure what to do with himself. He looked out the window. The streets were mostly empty, just a few cars passing. Snow had started falling again, light flakes that melted as soon as they hit the windshield.
He glanced at Gregory, who was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh in time with the music. His profile was sharp in the light. Straight nose, defined jawline, that permanent hint of a smirk.
James realized he was staring and looked away quickly.
“I am James Wilson, by the way” he said, trying to fill the silence.
“I’m Greg”
“Well... I know.”

Chapter Text

Gregory glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "Do you?"

"I mean, everyone knows who you are. You're kind of known on campus."

"For what? My sparkling personality?"

"They say you are kind of brilliant”

Gregory scoffed. "Kind of?"

"And also definitely a jerk."

"Am I?" Gregory pretended to be offended. 

"Do you always reply with a question?" James said, a bit annoyed.

“Do I?" 

James rolled his eyes “Forget it”. Gregory looked at him for a second, hiding a laugh. 

"Why were you running in the courtyard in a snowstorm with barely anything on, last week?” James immediately regretted asking that question, it seemed too personal, all of a sudden.

Gregory shrugged, not quite answering. "I had to prove a point."

He reached for the car stereo and turned it up, and just like that, the conversation was over.

Okay… 

James sat back, the heat warming up his legs. The weight of the night pressed down on him…the symposium, the bottle, the cell, the letter, a stranger who wasn't really a stranger, driving him to get Chinese food at midnight like it was completely normal.

He glanced at Gregory again, who was completely absorbed in the music now, his whole body moving slightly with the rhythm. There was something spontaneous about it. James had spent years learning to be aware of how he appeared to others. Gregory didn't seem to care at all.
James noticed his profile, sharp in the dashboard light, the defined jawline, the straight nose  that reminded him a bit of Todd’s.

The thought just came into his mind by itself and James pushed it away, looking back out the window.

Buildings passed by, their windows dark. In the distance, a neon sign glowed through the snow.

Gregory pulled into a parking spot in front of a small restaurant with red lanterns in the window and Chinese characters James couldn't read on the sign. He turned off the engine.

"Come on," Gregory said "You're buying."

The restaurant was almost too warm after the cold outside. Red lanterns hung from the ceiling. There were only a few other people inside.

Gregory walked straight to a table near the back without waiting for anyone to seat them. James followed, sitting across from him. He took off his coat, folding it carefully beside him. 

A waitress appeared almost immediately, setting down two menus. Gregory didn't look at his.

"I'll have the kung pao chicken. Extra spicy. And spring rolls. And two beers." He glanced at James. "You like spicy?"

"I... yeah, I guess."

"He'll have the same," Gregory told the waitress, handing both menus back with an incredible fake smile printed on his face.

"Trust me. It's good." Gregory leaned back against the booth. "So. James Wilson. Third year med student. Throws bottles at mirrors. What else?"

James felt his stomach tighten. "There's not much to know."

"I doubt that." Gregory tilted his head slightly. "You were holding something before you threw the bottle. A letter, maybe? You keep touching your jacket pocket."

James's hand had been moving on his jacket without him realizing it. He stopped, put it on the table instead. "It's nothing."

"Right. Nothing." Gregory's tone was neutral, but his eyes said he didn't believe it. "Nothing that made you destroy property and get arrested."

"Can we not..." James stopped, took a breath. He was tired. So tired. "Can we just not talk about that?"

Gregory studied him for a moment. James could feel himself being analyzed, like he was a puzzle Gregory was trying to solve. It should have been annoying. It was annoying. But there was also something almost refreshing about it. No fake sympathy. No social rules that would dictate to be nicer to someone you just met.

"Fine," Gregory said finally. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Normal things." He vaguely gestured in the air "What year are you?"

"Boring. Tell me something actually interesting."

James almost laughed despite himself. "What counts as interesting to you?"

"I'll know it when I hear it."

The waitress returned with their spring rolls, placing the plate between them. Gregory immediately grabbed one, biting into it without waiting for it to cool down.

James picked up a spring roll more carefully, blowing on it first. The heat felt good though, something real and present to focus on instead of everything else spinning in his head. 

When I'm near you, it doesn't hurt as much.

He pushed the thought away.

"You're thinking about it again," Gregory observed.

James looked up. "What?"

"Whatever was in that letter. You went somewhere else for a second."

"I wasn't..."

"So what is it? Bad news? Good news that came too late? Something you wish you'd never read?"

James felt his jaw tighten, maybe it wasn't that nice not to have any normal social rule. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

"You keep saying that." Gregory leaned forward slightly. "But you're still here. You could walk away"

"I can't," James said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. "I don't have a car."

"Taxis exist."

"You just bailed me out," James stopped, getting defensive. "I don't want to be ungrateful. Seems polite."

"Polite." Gregory said the word like it was funny. "Right. It fits the character"

James felt his shoulders tense. He wasn't sure if Gregory was making fun of him or just being... whatever this was. Direct? Annoying?

Gregory was still watching him with that sharp, analytical look. "You're getting annoyed with me."

James didn't answer.

"You are. Your jaw's tight. You're gripping that spring roll like you want to throw it." The smirk was back. "Should I be worried? You do have a history."

James looked down at his hand. He was, in fact, holding the spring roll too hard. He set it down and took a breath.

"So," Gregory continued, completely unbothered. "You still haven't told me what was in the letter."

"Because I don't want to talk about it."

"I bailed you out of jail. I'm buying you dinner. Well, you're buying me dinner, but I paid your bail. I think that gives me at least a little curiosity."

"It's personal."

"Obviously. That's what makes it interesting." Gregory leaned forward. "Was it from a girlfriend? Ex girlfriend?"

"Stop."

"Or did someone die?" Gregory's voice was casual, almost conversational, like he was discussing the weather. "That's the only thing that makes sense. The way you reacted. The way you're still reacting. Someone died and that letter..."

"You are a jerk" James's hands were flat on the table now, pressed down hard. Why was he doing this to him? 

"When? Recently? Years ago?" Gregory was relentless, watching James's face like he was reading something written there. "Years ago, I think. This isn't fresh grief. This is old grief that got opened up again. Someone sent you something. A letter you should have gotten a long time ago but didn't. And now..."

"Now I am leaving".

The waitress appeared beside their table with two bottles of beer, and placed them down.

Gregory glanced at the bottles, then at James's face, which had gone very still, staring at the glass, then back at the waitress.

"Actually," Gregory said, giving both beers back to the woman, "can you take these away? My friend here has a complicated relationship with bottles right now."

James stared at him.

Then, despite everything, despite the tension and the exhaustion and the terrible night, despite being annoyed and pushed and analyzed, he started laughing.

Gregory's smirk stretched into something closer to a real smile. 

"You're such an asshole," James said, still laughing.

"I've been told." Gregory pushed the bottles a little further toward the waitress. "Seriously though, take them. Before he gets any ideas."

The waitress looked confused but picked up the bottles and walked away.

James shook his head, trying to stop laughing but couldn't quite manage it.

"What? You needed it. You were about to either cry or punch me. This is better" 

James looked at him for a moment. Despite everything, the pushing and the questions and the complete lack of boundaries, Gregory had made him laugh. Really laugh. And that had felt very good. 

They looked at each other for a moment, then Gregory reached for the last spring roll and James didn't stop him.

Chapter Text

James woke up in his bed the next day. It was late, but he’d had to catch up on all the sleep he’d lost over the past two nights. Technically, he was supposed to go to the symposium again today, but he wasn’t sure that was the best idea. Maybe he should talk to the dean first, figure out just how much trouble he was in. Then maybe he’d go find Mary.
He kicked off the covers, determined to get up.

Gregory House had walked him back to the dorm the night before, both of them a little drunk.
It was, without a doubt, the strangest way James had ever made a friend.
And honestly, he could see why every time he’d seen Gregory before, the man had always been alone. No one in their right mind would want to spend time with him.

He had pushed James right to the edge without the slightest concern for his feelings, which, objectively, could be considered a red flag, but instead, once the tension had broken, James had almost felt flattered.
It was nice to know someone cared enough to get under his skin.

Setting vanity aside, though, he really did appreciate that Gregory had paid his bail.
Instead of spending the night in a cell, he’d ended up discovering a new restaurant and a new friend.

After his shower, James spent ten full minutes staring at his wardrobe, looking for something that might best convey deep remorse for last night’s behavior while still suggesting I’m responsible and ready to make amends.
He went with a formal suit. Might as well go all in.

He adjusted his hair with surgical precision, then rushed out of his room, out of the dorm, and straight up to the third floor of the administration building to speak with the university dean.
The secretary promptly sent him away, informing him that the dean did not take unscheduled meetings and, more importantly, did not wish to see him.
He was told instead to go speak with the head of his department.

Couldn’t be that bad if the dean didn’t think he was worth the trouble, right? 

Professor Harrington’s office was on the second floor. James knocked.

“Come in.”
Professor Harrington, a man in his 60s with a long nose and a receding hairline, sat behind his desk, looking every bit as tired as James felt.

“Mr. Wilson.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

James sat. Harrington studied him for a long moment.
“Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

“I had too much to drink and made a terrible decision,” James said. Simple. Direct.
“There’s no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.”

“The hotel is pressing charges for property damage.”

James’s stomach dropped. “I understand.”

“However, given your academic record and the fact that this is your first incident, the university is willing to intervene on your behalf. You’ll need to write a formal apology to the hotel and cover the cost of the damages. We’re also placing you on formal academic warning. One more incident and you’re out. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just don’t do it again.” Harrington removed his glasses. “You’re a good student, Wilson. Don’t throw it away over one night of stupidity.”

James nodded.
“You’re dismissed.”

James stood, then hesitated at the door.
“How much are the damages?”

“Four hundred dollars. The hotel will send you an invoice.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Not expelled. That was something. A warning, damages to pay, and probably a permanent black mark on his record, but not expelled. He could work with that.

Lost in these thoughts, James turned the corner leading to the stairs and suddenly found himself face to face with Gregory House, leaning against the railing.

“Well?”

James jumped back, gasping.
“Jesus! You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting to see if they’d throw you out,” Gregory said, watching him closely. “Did they?”

“No,” James said, looking away. “Just a warning and four hundred dollars in damages.”

Gregory nodded. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Definitely.”

James started down the stairs, and Gregory followed him.

“How did you even know I’d be here?”

Gregory shrugged. “Where else would you be? Anyway, you’re coming with me to grab coffee.”

James looked at him with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I’ve got things to do. And you’re very demanding for someone I met only yesterday.”

“Very demanding?” Gregory gave a small snort. “I paid your bail. That gives me some rights.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Of course it is.”

“Anyway, if you are busy now, you can buy me lunch today.”

“I have to find Mary.”

Gregory stopped halfway down the stairs. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

A moment of silence. Then: “Good. Go be a good boyfriend.”
His tone was light, but something felt off. “But you still owe me lunch. See you at one.”

“I never said yes.”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” Gregory kept walking down the stairs without turning back. “Don’t be late, Wilson.”

He disappeared around the corner, leaving James standing there, staring into the empty space.