Chapter Text
Few people thought Gregory House was capable of real love.
He'd run away from people, friends, colleagues and people in general just so he wouldn't be lost, but he always ended up being lost because of his own thoughts.
He doesn't want to devote himself to others, so he's alone. Alone with his brain. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with no one to protect him from himself. And Gregory House doesn't like that.
The advantage of being alone is that he has more time to devote to himself, his problems, his inner self. He has more time and strength to understand himself. But for him, it's a disadvantage he hates above all else.
He's been running away from his questions, doubts and fears since he was a teenager, and he continues to do so. He pushed away all those awful things until they became his reality. And he hates his reality, he hates his doubts, his fears and his questioning, but most of all, he hates himself for not having done anything about it. He hates himself for running away from it, because it was too hard, too unfair, too long, for giving himself tons and tons of excuses for not understanding himself, for putting off his own life.
So, because of this fear of understanding himself, of discovering himself and opening up, because of his doubts about himself and his own life, and because of the questions that perforated his skull as soon as the silence reached his ears, because of his bullshit, he didn't learn, he didn't understand, he didn't grow.
He's still the same kid afraid to understand himself, full of doubts and questions. The same kid who doesn't know how to live, love, dream, grow or learn, but has an irresistible urge to do so. He's got the will, but he's been afraid to practice.
He's spent over forty years with himself, but he's repressed himself just because he was afraid of hurting himself, because it hurts to understand himself.
So when House finally realizes that he loves his best friend, he feels bad thinking that he surely loves him wrong, because he doesn't know any better.