Cuddy, oh, how she had left him utterly ruined.

He thought, perhaps, he’d finally found someone to match his crazy. Found someone that could put up with his crazy ass. But no— she had a health scare, which, being her boyfriend, he’d gotten fearful.

He knew he was going to relapse. He’d subtly attempted crying out for help, in various ways, but nobody saw. Nobody caught on. And because of that, he’d fallen back into his addiction.

She’d broken up with him. What else could he do? Two years of sobriety, right down the drain!

Due to this chaotic breakup, and the immediate aftermath of getting back into Vicodin, House had been living a very crazy life. He’d started spending all of his money on hookers and hotels— hell, he JUMPED OFF OF A BUILDING into the hotel’s pool, before simply beginning to chug beer and scream with all of the random rowdy teens around him.

He needed to fill the void that she’d left in him. And he was going to do literally anything to do that; which was evident based off of his current position inside of that damn pool, surrounded by other hooligans 40 years younger than him.

He laughed, barely able to sense his leg as he chugged any alcohol the rando’s handed him, while blabbering on about nonsensical things.

God, he was screwed.