The room is still. The fluorescent lights hum faintly, but all you can hear is the soft click of House lowering himself onto the piano bench.

You don’t look at him—your eyes are closed, exhaustion weighing heavy. You’d just pulled your longest shift yet. One of the toughest cases. One you didn’t win.

And then—

The first notes play.

Your eyes flutter open. You recognize the melody instantly. Across the Stars. The love theme from Star Wars. You told him once—weeks ago—how that music always made you feel like your chest could crack open from everything you never say out loud.

He's playing it. Slowly. Delicately. No sarcasm. No joke.

Just him. Just the music.

You turn to look at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes. Doesn’t say a word. His fingers move, expression unreadable, and somehow that says more than anything he could say out loud.