drabble: Odi et Amo

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Title: Odi et Amo
Rating: PG 13 (minor language)
Disclaimer: ita, vero
Length: 200ish words
Summary: Catullus poem #85 and "Cane and Able" inspired drabble. Because I am a special breed of dork.
Notes: The translation is mine; it doesn’t do the Latin justice, but translations never do. **Spoilers for “Cane and Able.”
X-posted: house_wilson

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio, et excrucior.

God damn him. Wilson watched House exit and rubbed his face with his hands, a gesture of exhaustion and defeat. He didn’t know which ‘him’ he was damning- House or himself. They both probably deserved it. The shame and anger formed a nauseating knot in his stomach. And yet again looking out for House had come back to bite him in the ass. Fine. He washed his hands of it. God doesn’t limp. His heart tripped as the words replayed in his head, the memory of those blue eyes sharp and cold as the sting of a razor blade. He wondered what punishments House would inflict on him. He knew they would be exquisite.

I hate and I love. You ask how I could possibly manage it.
I don’t know, but I feel it. And I am crucified.

House stalked back to his office- or at least as much as anyone trying desperately not to favor their failing leg can stalk. Of all the meddling, self-righteous… The worst part was knowing that the bastard had a point. He usually did; House didn’t suffer fools well. Or at all. I was afraid your wings would melt. No. Focus on the betrayal, not the anguish on Wilson’s face. Not all the times Wilson sacrificed for him, the recoveries he’d been through (two and counting). House made it to his office and sank into his chair, neglecting to turn on the light. The throb in his leg seemed a fitting accompaniment to the ache in his chest.

Comments

[asynca.livejournal.com]

You are my hero.

Only.

Make it, like, 10,000 words longer next time. Okay? :D