someone to stay ; hilson oneshots

1: agony (whumptober 2020)

fills whumptober prompts "waking up restrained" (01) and "withdrawal" (22)

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Waking up, he notices the pain in his thigh first. It's absolutely beyond fucking agonizing, almost worse than it's ever been now that he's detoxing. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, balling his hands into fists and breathing heavily, as if he just can't quite catch his breath or something.

Blinking up at the ceiling, House finds that the lights are too bright for him, even as dim as they are; they hurt his tired eyes and make him want to go back to sleep, but the pain and the nausea are so overwhelming that he doesn't think that he can even attempt to relax enough to sleep any longer.

He's drenched in sweat now so his clothes and sheets are all soaked, and his throat hurts from shouting all throughout the night from how much his leg's hurting without the Vicodin. He swallows, finding that his throat is also dry from being thirsty, and yeah, definitely all sore and probably raw, too, which must be causing his discomfort. He feels like he needs to down at least two glasses of water to be even a little satisfied and then have Chloraseptic too.

Well, he doesn't think he'll be speaking or shouting much for a while. He sighs and guesses that the nurses will be pleased about that.

Lastly, somehow, House notices he's been restrained. It probably happened sometime during the night but he's unaware of when exactly it could've been. And more than likely he was also sedated, as he feels a bit drowsy and dizzy still and his vision is rather blurry, though he doesn't remember it happening for sure either, so he really can't say.

Both the drugs and restraints must be because of him thrashing around or maybe because of the way he's been fighting the nurses when they come in to attend to him as he goes through the symptoms of withdrawal, and give him replacement medication that does nothing to help his pain whatsoever.

He's here voluntarily, but sometimes it doesn't feel that way. Right now, he almost feels like a captive.

He's alone now, though; no nurses in sight. He's left here, tied down to the bed all by himself, and... he wishes that Wilson were here with him. He'd much rather be at his friend's apartment while going through all of this - he would prefer to be taken care of by somebody who... who loves and cares about him, instead of being here alone with these strangers, who smile and say that they care and want him to get better all while making him suffer slowly and wish he were dead so that maybe the pain would finally go away.

House takes a deep, shaky, pained breath and pulls against the restraints a little before he gives up and slumps against the mattress, feeling kind of defeated. He's trembling, dazed and exhausted as he stares upwards at the ceiling even though there's nothing there to look at. There's nothing to do, really, except think and try to block everything else out.

He can't wait until he gets out of here knowing for sure that he's a hundred percent free of all hallucinations that have plagued his mind, that he's not crazy. He can't wait until he is able to go back to work and be as fine as he was before, until he can be right by Wilson's side once again.

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