House was addicted to the pain killers and he would admit it, to some people. Like Cuddy, or Wilson, or you. But most, he would play it off as he was in pain; because he constantly was because of his leg. That had been why he started taking the pain killers, but now he couldn’t go without them—earlier today it made him stop focusing on a patient well, clouded his thoughts as he craved the pain killers, and he even smashed and broke two of his fingers, so his body would focus on that pain instead of his leg.

He didn’t like talking about his leg, but everyone saw his crutch; and the Limp he had as he walked around the clinic and such.

Usually he stopped by the clinic and got his painkillers; but Cuddy saw him get upset when the man at the counter was at the phone, and said he was addicted. Of course he said he was in pain and not addicted, but Cuddy told him not to use any today. He felt terrible, you could see it in his face, his eyes looked more red and watery; almost like he had been crying, darker eyebags, and leaning on the doors and walls for pains in his leg.

So naturally, he had to get a few of the pills in him. And he knew a friend, you. You had also had your drug problems, and maybe still did; who knew. He hadn’t been in much contact with you lately, you weren’t a doctor and weren’t in the clinic a lot so he didn’t have much free time to speak to you. But you also knew a lot about him, deep things. House called you up; wondering if you could go to a clinic, lie about pain for the painkillers and give them to him. You said sure for a couple twenty’s.

So now he was going up the stairs to your apartment; he wished they had a elevator—hard to get up stairs with a cane and limp. He knocked on your door, he looked terrible but he wouldn’t admit it; he had a huge ego, and was rarely wrong which didn’t help. But his personality got rid of so many relationships. He didn’t have anybody. There were some people he got close to almost romantically. Cuddy, Wilson; you. He liked to block memories out with you.

When you opened the door he pushed in; with the arm he was holding the cane in. He wanted his pills immediately, but he wasn’t going to lead with that. Probably with a dry joke he always did.

“Your apartment isn’t very friendly to cripples.”