Whoever made that bed must be crazy, Sheldon's hazy mind ponders. The mattress is not only rock hard, it is grainy, too. He moves his hand to where he imagines the corners of the bed must be and frowns, failing to find one. It appears he is on a borderless, solid, rough bed. And a very rough one at that, like it's a carpeted floor or something.
He opens his eyes slowly and reality comes flooding back to his senses: it is the floor and he is the crazy one for sleeping on it, and not even in his proper sleeping attire. "Oh, dear lord!" he mutters, checks his watch, and scampers out of her apartment building.
He finds Leonard at their place already preparing for work.
"Where have you been?" his roommate inquires.
He lowers his head, careful to hide his telltale lying tics. "You know, just getting fresh air in the morning."
"Outside the apartment building?" Leonard continues.
"Yes."
"And, you went out like that?"
"Yes. Why? Did you expect me to get out in the morning wearing my pajamas?"
"Well, no. It just looks like you slept on your usual attire."
Sheldon sighs. He is not going to admit where he's been. "Leonard, that's crazy. And, for your information, this is how people usually get fresh air: outside of their apartment buildings and not in their pajamas."
"First of all, that is not crazy. It's merely an observation. And, second of all, you are not usual people," Leonard shrugs, "at least it looks like you managed to get some rest. Good job, Sheldon, with whatever it is you're doing, and hurry up, unless you want to take the bus to work."
He does feel rested, Sheldon realizes, but resolves that the activities of the previous night should not be repeated because he respects Amy's wishes for a time off. If only he can do something similar for her and, in some way, relieve the hurt she's feeling during this period.
The nights have definitely been the hardest for Sheldon since that Skype call, the days less so since there's work to keep his mind occupied. But, without Amy to share his discoveries of the day with, work has also started to feel bland.
He sneaks a peek at her lab come lunch time. As usual, he finds her busy examining a specimen under the microscope. He notes how much paler her skin has become, the frown lines on her forehead deeper, and her shoulder more hunched. But, she has on her face a focused look that reflected her dedication to science that Sheldon has always admired.
He gets his cellphone out and types, "I miss you so much." He stares at the screen for a long time and then goes on to delete it.
"I love you," he types again.
Then hits delete.
"Don't forget to eat lunch."
Delete.
In the end, he settles for a link to a magazine article on the importance of regular meals to one's mental acuity and productivity, and sends it through an email blast. He surveys her lab through his concealed spot in the corridor and sees her Ipad in one corner. Something on the device makes him smile. He takes one last look at her before heading back to his own office.
The woman to whom the email is actually meant for raises her head from the microscope the moment Sheldon is out of sight, missing him by just a few seconds. She turns to her Ipad, stares longer than necessary at her wallpaper and heaves a deep breath. She smiles nonetheless, remembering the events of that prom night, and goes on to check her inbox.
She sees another one of Sheldon's email blast. It's odd, she thinks, because he usually does not send such mid-day, or midweek for that matter. This one is uncharacteristically off-scheduled. And, perfectly-timed too, as it is already lunch and she has not yet taken a break. She looks around and finds nobody.
Amy is, of course, smart. She also knows him very well and knows that there are circumstances that fit together a little too consistently to be mere coincidence. "Lunch it is," she says as she walks out of her lab to fetch Penny and Bernie, her skin now with a hint of blush, her face with the slight radiance of a smile, and her shoulders straighter and a little more confident than before.
And thus another day passes without them having a direct contact. But, however they manage to cope in the company of work and friends in the day, night comes inevitably and brings with it more challenges and reminders of what or who they are missing.
"I will not do it," Sheldon says rhythmically as he taps his bongos that night. "Will not do it, will not do it." Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Oh for Christ' sake, Sheldon, just do it," Leonard pleads through their wall.
"Leonard doesn't even know what it is but asks me to do it." Tap. Tap. Tap. He continues, moving his head left and right in the process.
Leonard storms off to Sheldon's room. "Sheldon!" he screams and steals the bongos from him. "You want sleepytime tea?" he asks, calming down a little after seeing his deranged expression.
"I can't," Sheldon answers from his bed.
"Why not?"
"Reminds me too much of Amy."
"Bongos remind you of Amy," he points out.
"Yes. That, too. But at least it has the potential of exhausting me to sleep. Sleepytime tea can't."
Leonard lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are exhausting me and not to sleep. Can you please, please try to sleep quietly?"
"I am trying."
"And failing," his roommate retorts, pointing to the Bongos. "Let me put it this way, if you don't stop playing bongos tonight, I will call your mother."
"Not fair, Leonard, not fair," Sheldon comments as Leonard leaves his room.
"Will not do it" Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Sheldon continues his earlier chant, this time making clicking noise with his tongue. "Will not do it. Will not do it." Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
An hour later, the words out of Sheldon's mouth changed.
"I did it," he says, his head moving from left to right, expressing disapproval with himself. As with the previous night, he finds himself seated beside his girlfriend's door. "Well, I think it's safe to say that I could add hypocrisy to the list of my admirable traits," he castigates himself. "Oh, look at that. I blurted out sarcasm."
Three minutes in and Amy still has not played her harp. Sheldon realizes that there is actually no guarantee that she will play even if she's still sad. Last night must have been just a coincidence and he might not be as lucky tonight. But, just as he is about to stand up, her harp music starts to fill the air.
Sheldon becomes glued to his spot, the music gently lulling him to sleep. Like before, he makes a mental note to leave as soon as he calms down. "Just a few minutes," he says. And, like before, it doesn't happen as he once again falls asleep outside Amy's door.
