Leonard has wanted to quit physics for some time now.
He has always been little. It's a fact that he gets reminded of every time he stands in close proximity to Sheldon, every time the lanky physicist towers over him, jabbing at his whiteboard to point out how he has forgotten to substitute alpha there, or that there is a simple arithmetic error in the third line of his equation.
Being a genius – wunderkind – has always been Leonard's biggest strength and only source of confidence. His five feet four is shorter than most fourteen year old boys, but he has been able to console himself, knowing that if IQ was an asset, he'd be the tallest out of them all. He is used to being the brightest, wherever he goes - yet next to Sheldon Cooper, the brightest wunderkind out of them all, he finds himself grasping desperately at the very edges of Sheldon's genius, trying not to feel as if he is drowning in mediocrity.
Leonard knows that Sheldon is extraordinary, all his quirks and idiosyncrasies aside; and knowing that no amount of hard work will let him close the distance between them kills a little more of him inside every time he hears the word physics.
He hates that no amount of effort he puts in will give him even a shot at being the best – just like everything else, he is at most, second-best.
This thought in mind, Leonard angrily jabs in a Babylon 5 disc into his laptop, covering his ears with headphones. Sheldon has made his dislike of the show very clear, and he does not want another strike: a remedial class with Sheldon is the last thing he wants.
Leonard Hofstadter, experimental physicist at Caltech is cracking, and no amount of Babylon 5 viewings or angry casual sex will be enough to piece him back together.
Penny has had a horrible day at the Cheesecake Factory, even more so than usual. Casual offences like butt pinching and perverse gazes boring down her ample cleavage have been ramped up to a whole new level and she finds herself close to breaking point. Her uniform has gravy stains on it and her hair is sweating and droopy, and all she really wants is a hot shower and a glass of wine or two.
But when she finds Kurt waiting for her next to her car, all casual and attractive like a twenty-first century Adonis, she lets herself be whisked off to his apartment for another night of brazen, drunken fun. She isn't sure why she lets him tug off her mustard skirt, or why she doesn't object to taking a shower together, but she does know that she doesn't want him to touch her hair and let it down.
"Pen, what's wrong? You're all tense – loosen up babe, daddy's got ya," Kurt quips, a corner of his lips raised in a self-assured smirk that has had girls hung up on it ever since he turned fourteen.
"Nothing, I've just had a really crappy day at work." She tries to sound upbeat, vivacious and it works.
"If you say so babe. Hey, your hair covers your boobs now, it's freaking hot, you look like that mermaid bitch from Sleeping Beauty or something." He grins lopsidedly, and she knows that he has paid her a compliment, however cheap it may be, so she smiles back and kisses him before her mind can catch up.
#
Sex with Kurt has always been fun for Penny; he is strong and big, and she can nestle upon him after climax and let herself be lured away by the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She thinks she likes him best like that, when he is silent and gently rocks her to sleep, just like how he does now. It's almost like they're back to being nineteen again, infatuated and young and excited to take on the world before them.
"Pen, you sleeping?"
She doesn't answer him, because she doesn't want to have to wake up and acknowledge that she isn't nineteen and dreaming of Hollywood, but twenty five and working at minimum wage in the Cheesecake Factory, trying to make ends meet so that she does not lose electricity again.
Penny can tell when Kurt is asleep, by the way his arms around her relax and fall loosely to his sides. She steals a glance at the bedside clock and groans softly when it reads an alarming 1:05 in the morning – she has a morning shift tomorrow, and she can't afford to miss any shifts they throw at her. The LED light blinks at her, electric blue and steady like Sheldon's eyes – whoa, where did that come from?
If Penny has to be honest with herself, she knows that the way Sheldon looked at her last night can't be written off as another quirk of his. She can recall how his eyes had burned into hers feverishly – the image of his baleful eyes, large and scared like a deer in the headlights has burned its way into her mind like smoldering ashes. Sheldon is an egotistical, proud super genius with megalomaniac tendencies – the guys always had said how he was one lab accident away from being a super villain –but Penny has never seen him genuinely scared, until last night.
Scared of what – that I'd catch him bullshitting about his shirt? It is neither a question nor a statement, but merely an exclamation of what may be indignation, impatience, exasperation or even a hint of concern. Almost instinctively, Penny knows that Sheldon was terrified when she asked about his shirt, and that he was lying when he had answered. She has no idea, no clue where to even start guessing about why, but she definitely knows for sure that there is something wrong with her Moon Pie.
The admission scares her. Sheldon Cooper is never scared – hell, she can't even be sure whether he has feelings or not. Robots can't look that sad, she thinks to herself – but even as she conjures up those words, she knows that she has always known he has feelings. His face when he had learned of his friends' deceit in the Arctic float to the forefront of her mind, and she cringes uncomfortably.
Cuddling with her ex-boyfriend in his apartment after mind blowing sex, Penny thinks about Sheldon, even as she drifts off to sleep.
Sheldon has always liked the squeak of whiteboard markers as they raced across boards to translate brilliance into figures and equations that echo his thoughts. He is aware that Leonard is watching Babylon 5 on his laptop on the couch, but every time he opens his mouth to chastise him for such poor taste, another extraordinary idea strikes his mind, which he scribbles on the board lest he miss even a fraction of it. Ah, numbers, how dependable art thou – he allows himself a small chuckle at his whimsical words before concentrating on the numbers before him again.
He can feel a set of eyes boring into his back, and deduces that it must be Leonard's, seeing as they are the only inhabitants of the apartment at present. He considers engaging in small talk with the shorter man and attempt to explain some of the marvelous insights he has been blessed with that afternoon, but concludes that his productivity levels will decline if he does so, which would be simply unacceptable.
"Sheldon, what are you working on?" He suppresses a sigh, before answering crisply:
"I have deduced several different approaches to M-theory that hasn't occurred to anyone else before, which are looking promising. Of course, I must say I'm not surprised; very few people share my brilliance, and certainly none of them are alive right now except me."
"Really? What method did you use? Gablehouser might kiss you if you pull this one off too, right after your work with the god particle."
"Lorentz." And with that, Sheldon goes back to work, furiously scribbling away the fruits of his endeavors and entirely missing the half-admiring, half-resentful gaze Leonard directs at his back.
"It's unlike you to not launch into another huge rant about how great Lorentz is, you know," he starts.
"Well, as great as he may be, I am better."
Leonard struggles to reign himself in from throwing his laptop at the back of taller man's head, hopefully killing off a couple of IQ points. His arrogance is both stifling and well deserved; he knows that Sheldon may be one of the brightest men alive in their time, but it doesn't make him any less infuriating, especially in the face of his arrogance that knows no boundaries and restrictions.
"Douche," Leonard mutters to himself. Sometimes he really had to ask himself why he was still living with Sheldon. His belittling of others needled into his vulnerable side far more often that he admitted to himself, and it hurt like a bitch. Leonard clenches his teeth, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes roughly. Asshole, dictator, egomaniac, dick.
#
Lying like a vampire in a coffin in his bed, Sheldon clears his mind, before letting the memories flood back like wildfire and ring in his ears, making him wanting to clutch his head. Every single interaction he has had to suffer through repeat themselves somewhere within the vast cavern of his mind, all at once, and for a moment Sheldon is worried that it will sweep him under where he will drown.
"I am the master of my own body – and my mind – and memories – and I will not back down," he mutters his mantra. The Vulcans had the right idea, he thinks, but he thinks that the couple of additions he made have improved it even further.
"I am the master of my own – oh, good God, that incessant buzz of inane chatter –" He moans quietly.
It is a ritual that Sheldon follows every night, within the safe confinements of his room, when he allows all the conversations that he has had during the day to overflow inside his mind. Safely cocooned in his bed, he is able to lift the iron-clad emotional barrier he has on himself during the day, one that separates his logical and rational side from emotions, the pesky lot of them. Sheldon knows that he is not a robot – unfortunately – and this is a solution that seems to work most effectively. It is by no means perfect, if those occasional twinges of feelings – usually guilt, hurt and rarely joy – are anything to judge his success by; but it is the best make-shift solution that he can offer himself.
Concluding that nothing today has been uttered, save for inane chit chat that oozes of banality, Sheldon lets himself relax. It is a short-lived relief, however, as his mind, treacherously vigilant as ever, loops back to the same conundrum that he has been facing for the last twenty years.
"Self harm is a method of coping with stress, an outlet of negative emotions that brings temporary relief by distracting oneself from their problem through physical pain. It most commonly occurs to people who are suffering from depression or any other psychological problems, and usually happens in the form of incisions made on easily accessible places such as the wrist, arms or thighs."
A/N: Not very happy with how this chapter turned out, but it'll have to do for now. My exams finish in a week, so I'll go back and redo these chapters then. D: Hopefully. Thank you all for the reviews and follows - I was so, so, so very pleased to know that people didn't hate what I wrote. :)