"Penny?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of my name. Looking behind over my shoulder, I see the man responsible for interfering with my reverie. "Hey, you."

"What are you doing here?" you ask, coming closer to me.

By 'here,' I know you meant our building rooftop. "Nothing. I was just…admiring the scenery," I reply. Retrieving the bottle of wine from beside me on the makeshift bench, I sigh and pour myself another round.

"Isn't it pretty late to be outside?" you point out, easing into the empty spot to my right.

"This isn't exactly the streets of Pasadena, Leonard." In an effort to change the subject, I offer you the bottle of wine. "Want some?"

You shake your head. "No, thank you. The last thing I'll need is something that will cause me to oversleep."

The sentiment behind my smile easily fades but the tilting on the corners of my mouth stays. "You're right. Tomorrow's your big day."

"Yeah." You rub your palms together in excitement. "I'm getting married tomorrow. Can you believe it?"

"What's not to believe? You've always wanted to have a family."

"Yeah."

Your sigh doesn't go past my ears and I can only nod. I understand very well where you're coming from. Although you would always deny it, I know you acquiesced with your mother—the great Dr. Beverly Hofstadter—when she dubbed you 'needy baby' in her book. You never felt any semblance of love from your own family. How can I blame you for wanting so much?

In a way, I suppose your need for affection is the reason for you needing to concretize and legalize whatever had been going on between us back then. You had told me that you love me which shook the hell out of me. Even when we had broken up and you had moved on—a serious relationship here and a fling there—I had the nerve to believe you were only biding your time, waiting until I tell you that I love you back.

I hear you sigh again, this time deeper, fishing me out of my thoughts for the second time this night. "What now?" I demand.

You shrug. "I guess a little sip of wine wouldn't hurt."

I roll my eyes and offer you the half-drained bottle. "I don't have any glasses other than this," I say, dangling my goblet of red in front of your hipster spectacles.

"We've shared a carton of eggnog-drained rum-filled carton of eggnog before," you say, giving me your signature grin. You brought the bottle to your lips, took a sip then grimaced at the acrid taste of the alcohol. You haven't really gotten used to it, have you?

Tearing my eyes off you, I look up front, facing the Pasadena night skyline. For the first time in my life, I actually notice how beautiful the city is. Silently, I give myself credit for choosing to live here instead of the ritzier and busier downtown Los Angeles. This is where I work—albeit temporarily. This is where I feel contented after I moved out of Kurt's place. There's comfort in knowing that I have easily been able to settle in, considering that prior to living with Kurt, I was fresh out of Nebraska, wide-eyed and idealistic.

This is where I found true friends—those who will stick up for me and stand by me when the chips are down.

Most importantly, this is where I felt how it is like to be loved…truly loved.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agree, banking on the assumption that we are thinking along the same line.

You raise the bottle of wine to your face and for a while, I thought you were going to take a moment to gulp but you put your hand back down. You look up at the sky, seemingly enthralled by the dazzle of sparkling light scattered across the sky. In the meantime, I grab the opportunity to watch you as intently as you do the heavens. With a sigh, you finally take a gulp of the drink. I can't help grinning like a ninny every time you pout somewhere in the middle of your thoughts.

And then it hit me. You look like something is bothering you. I have been with you long enough, been watching you keenly enough to know to know there's something on your mind you can't weave your way out of. "Leonard, are you okay?"

You shrug. "I don't know." You take another sip.

I wait until your lips leave the bottle which you immediately hand back to me. "What's the matter?"

You begin your story with another sigh. "It's the idea of getting married. I feel like I'm entering a whole new phase of my life."

I force a smile on my face to cover up whatever it is I'm feeling. "I hate you break it to you, buddy, but you are."

"I know." You chuckle. "I guess I'm just clueless…at getting married…having kids." You run your fingers through the soft curls of your hair. "I guess I just don't know how to deal with the idea of me tying the knot just yet."

Welcome to the club, screams my mind.

You shift in your seat to fully face me. "How do you do it?"

The question catches me by surprise. "Me? What do I know about getting married?"

You smile sheepishly. "I mean, if you were in my shoes, how would you deal with the idea of getting married?"

I shrug my shoulders, realizing I don't have a friggin' notion what to tell you. I'm the last person you should talk to about these things. "You should've asked Howard."

"He's only been married a year." You snort, looking back at the city before us. "Hell, not even a year."

A momentary silence cloaks us before I give the thought bugging my mind a go. "Have you…" You look at me, your intense eyes behind your glasses urging me to go on. I clear my throat. "Have you changed your mind? About marrying…her?"

"No."

I bite my lip. I know I should've expected that. "Then what are you afraid of, Leonard?"

"I don't know…" you mumble. "The change, I guess; all the 'what ifs' and the consequences of anything and everything."

"You're a scientist, Leonard. Aren't you people prepared for consequences of whatever scientific stuff you do?"

"Getting married is hardly science."

Slowly, I nod, partly in agreement and partly as a prelude to my next words. "Are you getting cold feet?"

"Cold feet," you say after me. "That's an odd expression, isn't it? How does one get cold feet without sticking them in the freezer?"

I realize without fail that you are babbling. You're always like this when you're nervous. I know, as one of your friends, I'm supposed to assure you that everything will be alright. However, I feel like playing the devil's advocate this time. "Leonard…is there anything that can change your mind about marrying Pri—her?" Damnit, I can't even mention her name.

You stare are me and for the very first time, I find myself very self-conscious. "Is there anything you can say that can make me change my mind about marrying Priya?"

Yes. Marry me instead, Leonard.

In the time I have wasted debating whether or not to verbalize my thoughts, I hear you chuckle in spite of yourself. "It's weird. We're getting married and I don't even know if we can dance enough for our first."

I blink, uncertain if I should believe what I've heard. "You've never danced?"

"Well…kind of…" You twist your arms together in a sheepish manner. "I danced with Amy that time she asked me to be her date to the wedding of her colleagues."

"Ah, yes." I brush a stray lock of blonde hair off my face to tuck the strands behind an ear. "What kind of dance was it?"

You look hesitant for a while, but finally, you give in. "The chicken dance."

I try to stifle a giggle but I can't and my emotions burst through my nose. "Oh, Leonard…"

"I did the Hokey-Pokey as well," you continue, not taking offense in the way I have reacted to you admission. "That's how I pulled my groin, by the way."

"Aww…Leonard," I coo at you, finding it cute how you can be so pitifully adorable.

"It's stupid, right?" you ask, snickering.

"No. Not really. It's just…sad."

A veil of silence covers us. Then:

"Penny, will you dance with me?"

If I have any wine behind my lips, I probably would've spewed it out and if I have any food in mouth, I probably would've choked on it. "Are you serious?"

You shrug. "I don't want to look stupid on our first dance as husband and wi—"

"You want something beyond the chicken dance?" I ask, though it is more to cut you off than to find out an answer to your question.

You don't respond even as you gather yourself up to a stand. You place yourself before me, offer me a hand and say, "May I have this dance?"

Setting the bottle and my glass down on the ground, I fight back the tears that are welling up and give you my hand to help me up on my feet. We find a place in the middle of the rooftop building, enough for us not to hit anything during the dance. Your right hand winds around my waist, pulling me closer, while your left hand holds my right, our palms against each other's. There is nothing left for me to do but rest my hand on your shoulder, anchoring for support. I could've complained at the way you hold me, but I don't. If you aren't holding me this close, my jellied knees will give way.

We sway to a soundless music even as a song is already playing in my heart.

I lean my head to rest against the side of your neck. "Leonard?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you really love her this much…to hold her this close and hold her this tight?"

Your voice comes out husky. "Maybe it's just you. I don't remember us dancing like this before."

I ignore the fact that you have never answered me straight out. My only reaction to your words is to embrace you tighter as if I won't ever let you go…because you will go.

"This doesn't discomfort you?" I ask.

"No." You sigh, your sweet breath brushing strands of my hair. "I'm used to being this close to you. Besides, it's not like we haven't…you know."

My eyelids sweep down over my eyes as I bask in the sensation of your body next to mine. A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my cheek, wetting your shirt in the process. I opt not to apologize for it lest you find out I've been weeping over the fact that after this dance, that after you leave, things won't be the same anymore.

"What are you thinking of, Penny?"

Me? I'm thinking of us: all those times when we were together, when you valued and respected me, when you stood up for me and believed in me, when you told me you love me, when you proposed to me. You have made me feel like I'm the most beautiful creature you've ever laid your eyes on…like I'm the most important person to ever come into your life.

And now, it's over.

All I have tonight, all that will be left for me of you is this dance; to share a small distance with you…to breathe what you breathe…to hear what you hear…to feel what you feel…

"I love you, Leonard…"

I feel you stiffen before you cease swaying along with me for our dance. Inwardly, I curse at myself, certain that my admission is something I have unintentionally spoken out loud. Gulping down a lump of hesitation, I move my head back to look deep into your said eyes. Perhaps, I should take it back.

"Leonard, I didn't mean to—"

I pause, for just as suddenly, I decide to change course. Straightening up my spine, I lean forward, capturing your tempting mouth in a kiss. I trace the edges of your delicious lips with my tongue, savoring the last traces of wine you've had. I must've moaned because I can still feel the gentle rumbling in my throat.

But I don't feel you kissing me back. It's as though you just stood there, letting me kiss you. With defeat lancing me straight through the heart, I resign to the idea of keeping the contact for three seconds more then I will let you go, drive you away, and pity myself.

I will let you go.

But you don't let go.

Time stops when I feel your tongue slip into my mouth, greeting mine, reciprocating as ardently as I hope you would.

Three seemingly nonexistent seconds later, I open my eyes.

"I have to go."

I stand there, transfixed, watching your retreating body. Damn it, Penny! Move! I close my eyes momentarily, silently dictating my legs into motion to take me to the rooftop door before you walk out. "Leonard!"

Contrary to my fears, you heed me. "Yes?" you ask. For a moment, I fear you'll flash me a scowl after what has happened…after what I have tried to do.

But when I catch up with you, I see a sunny smile on your face.

Your eyes, however, are sad.

Is it because of me? I harrumph as an opening. "Leonard, I—"

"Don't be late for my wedding, Penny."

That is the blade I'm waiting for hovering above my neck. It just falls. Still, I put up an unaffected front. "Yeah…I'll be there."

You hand lands on the knob and gives it a twist. There is still something in my mind that I want to tell you before you go—really go. Maybe I shouldn't ask you anymore. But when you pull open the portal for your egress, I let my impulse take control.

"Leonard…" I call, my hand clutching a fistful of your jacket sleeve like I'm holding on for dear life. "Are we…cool?"

You smile; it looks pained, nonetheless. "Of course, Penny."

The next thing I see is your fleeing form and the door I myself shut close. I lean against the steel-covered wood, relying in it for support, but my legs betray me. I don't fight back; I allow my frame to fall and curl itself up into a ball.

And then I do something I've always done: I cry.

And then I do something I've never done before: I cry over you.

I don't know how long I've been stationary at the door before I decide to plod my way down back to my apartment, head for my bedroom and collapse on the bed. It hasn't taken long after I close my eyes when the phone rings. Curses escape from my mouth and threaten the poor little thing.

Two shrill chimes more and the machine takes the hint, setting off with my prerecorded message.

Your voice comes in immediately after the beep. "Penny…are you there?"

I am. But my body shows no intention of picking up.

"Look, I know you're there…and I know you're not going to pick this up so you'll just have to listen."

To what? To you telling me to get lost after what I did?

"I'm not mad, Penny…just to set things clear. But…I can't call off the wedding just like that. And it's not because I don't love you because the truth is…I do love you. It's just…it's…"

Sitting up in bed, I wait for your next words with anticipation, even if my mind is already telling me not to bother. If you love me, Leonard, as much as I love you…then why am I feeling this miserable?

"Damn you, Penny!" Your voice cracks with emotion. "Seven years, Penny! I've adored you, respected you, loved you…I worshipped you for seven years! I've waited for seven damn years for you to tell me. I wish you could've told me sooner, Penny. Why hadn't you told me sooner?"

"…if there is anyone in here who has reason to believe that these two people…"

I close my eyes and swallow the lump forming in my throat.

"…should not be united in holy matrimony…"

Last night, I've found out something and I can very well use it to my advantage. But then, what would that leave you? With a deep intake of breath, I open my eyes, hoping to meet your gaze. You love me, Leonard. I know you love…me…

Bravado surges into my body.

"…or forever hold your peace."

My mouth opens to let out my feelings as my gaze shoots straight at you.

But no words ever come out.

Because you never look at me. Because your eyes are fixed on the beaming girl beside you. Because when I see how happy you look with her…with Priya…I have to restrain myself. Because I know I can't bear the thought of making you cry yet again.

"Penny?" Bernadette whispers from beside me. "Were you going to say something?"

"…being no objections to this marriage…"

I only shake my head, vowing to wallow in self-pity from this day forward. Whatever it is that I have wanted to say will be pointless now.

I have had my last chance.

And I have lost it.

Author's Notes:

This is the result of my misery over the results of this year's Emmy awards; because when I'm depressed, I write sad, angsty stories.

I have been rooting for Leonard and Penny since the Pilot and I'm still rooting for them until today, although a lot of my passion has been passed on to Pasadena's favorite power couple, Sheldon and Amy. Still, I dream for Penny and Leonard—the show's original love pair—to end up together.

That being said, I'm hoping that something as sad as the one depicted in this story does not come true in the series. However, I personally feel that Penny needs a lot of growing up to do…and so does Leonard. If they would be able to overcome those differences, they're bound to be one of TV's most memorable and well-loved couples.

All standard disclaimers apply. I do not own any of these characters. They belong to genius minds of Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady. I'm not making money out of these so please don't sue. My imagination is all I have.