Work Text:
House's leg hurt.
It was worse today than usual, probably due to the fact it was raining. The Vicodin wasn't helping. He needed something stronger but knew no one would help him - because of his relapse into using Vicodin. That fact hurt, but not as bad as his leg currently. He groaned, gripping his cane tighter as he slowly shuffled to sit at his desk.
He wished he hadn't come into work today, but knew Cuddy wouldn't believe his pain unless she actually saw him struggling. House hated that. The fact that no one would believe his pain unless he was physically showing symptoms because he was addicted to his painkillers, - he wasn't even addicted, he really did have pain that bad - it made him feel pathetic. He would rather suffer than have someone watch him writhe in pain and then give him a stronger painkiller out of pity. House hated pity.
His thigh spasmed, causing him to double over in pain. He tried to massage the scar, tried to get some kind of relief but it only got worse. He groaned, tears welling up in his eyes due to the sheer agony sparking through his leg currently. House tried to blink his tears away, he was not going to cry at work. The pain wasn't even that bad, this was mild considering the weather they were due soon - snow, if he recalls correctly. - and he absolutely would not cry over it, not at work, not ever.
He shifted a little, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as he did so, trying to reach his heating pad kept in his desk for days like these. He found it with a little amount of struggling, but deflated almost immediately upon realising he had to move again to be able to plug it in. He threw the pad at the wall with a loud thud and gripped at his thigh again - another spasm ran through it.
Tears began to fall down House's cheeks before he could even attempt to blink them away, the pain was overwhelming. He couldn't deny it - not anymore. He needed a better painkiller, he was already at his limit on Vicodin and it was only 1pm. He paged Wilson first, hoping that he would answer it soon. He started trying to massage the muscle again, staring at the spot on the floor where the heating pad had landed. He did this for around 10 minutes before he gave up, knowing Wilson wasn't likely to answer his page now.
He whimpered again, the tears falling more freely. He tried to page Cuddy this time, hoping to god that she would answer. He pulled his hands away from his thigh and wiped his tears away, rubbing his hands on the back of his neck in the process. House really needed some kind of relief. He repeated the process of wiping his tears away and then rubbing his wet hands on the back of his neck as he waited, beginning to rock back and forth as he did so. The rocking sent sparks of pain up his thigh but he couldn't help it - he needed to move his body.
20 minutes had passed and Cuddy had not returned his page.
House was getting a little desperate, he tried to page his team but they also did not return the page. His tears kept coming, and soon he had to cover his mouth so he would not make any noises louder than a whimper. He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. And yet, it didn't matter.
He cried in his office for around 2 hours, and then finally, finally he ended up passing out due to both pain and exhaustion - bringing him some form of relief. When House woke an hour later, it was 3pm and he had missed his lunch break. His leg had eased just enough that he could get up and plug in his heating pad, allowing him more relief. His stomach growled but he could not move to get himself lunch.
No one had came into his office for the whole day, not his team bringing him a case, not Cuddy coming in to yell at him for blowing off clinic duty again, not Wilson coming in concerned for his health and bringing him some lunch.
No one.
House was alone in his office and his tears were drying on both his face and the back of his neck. He took out the familiar orange bottle from his pocket and shook out 3 pills. He knew this was too many to take, but he needed to. House had been suffering in pain all day and it had now been topped off with his loneliness. He needed to take the pills.
He swallowed them dry and waited for them to kick in. When they did kick in, the heat from the heating pad seeped deep into his thigh paired with the too many pills and lack of food or water made him extremely drowsy. He folded his arms on his desk and leaned his head on top, closing his eyes.
House was alone in his office, sleeping off his pain. No one came to visit him, and when tomorrow rolls around and his team comes in with a case, they wouldn't notice the redness of their boss's eyes, nor would they notice the slight glint of tears on his face. Wouldn't even notice the fact he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
The team wouldn't notice their boss coming off more cagey and off, and he wouldn't mention anything to them about it, either.
House's leg hurt, and he knew now, with certainty, that he was all alone.