Sheldon shut the door softly, leaving Leonard alone. Leonard blinked, felt the warmth from where Sheldon had just been sitting, and he felt more alone now. He felt his stomach twisting in on itself and his head starting to ache. He laid down, wishing that Sheldon hadn't left, that he would lay here with him. At the same time he wasn't surprised that he didn't stay. It was part of what he liked, part of what was drawing him to Sheldon, that aloofness.
Hours later he awoke with the sun streaming through the slats in the blinds and he wondered why he felt so excited and nervous. Then it rushed back to him, that sweet and tentative kiss he had shared with his roommate last night. He closed his eyes and smiled softly, thinking of Sheldon's large blue eyes and how they had closed when he went in for that second kiss.
He thought of getting up and having coffee, watching T.V. and eating breakfast with Sheldon and then he froze, his hand stopped in mid-air as he reached for his glasses on the bedside table. The thought of doing what he had done every Sunday morning for years suddenly sent ice shivers through his body. What would he say? How could he face Sheldon now? What would Sheldon say? Where were they now?
He was afraid to leave his room. He pulled his robe tightly about him and stared at his closed door. He'd have to leave sooner or later. He couldn't just stay in here. But the thought of facing Sheldon overwhelmed him. What would he say?
Was it maybe just a one time thing? He sat on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. He didn't want it to be a one time thing. He wanted more, and he wanted this relationship, this cautious and strange relationship to grow and develop, to unfurl like some exotic flower one petal at a time. That was what he wanted. But what did Sheldon want, if anything? He could ask him, but he didn't want to push him and he didn't want to pry and he didn't want to hear anything he didn't want to hear.
He didn't think he had the courage to simply walk into his own kitchen and pour himself a cup of coffee. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his hands starting to shake. He felt a panic attack coming on, a full blown panic attack because he was in here and Sheldon was out there. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in through his nose and out of his mouth, he focused on breathing and not the disastrous step he may have taken last night. What had he done? He'd kissed Sheldon, he'd taken advantage of him at a weak moment, a moment when he had come to him for comfort and support. He had seen the emotional turmoil even if Sheldon had not. He had used that and he got a taste of what he had been desiring. What would Sheldon think of it now in the cold and logical light of day?
"Shit," he muttered, and stood up. Afraid or not he had to go out there. He had to face him sooner or later.
He pushed his door open and stepped cautiously into the hall. The hallway had grown, had elongated by 20 feet or more and he kept walking until he reached the end, until he would emerge from the tunnel into the living room and kitchen.
Sheldon was sitting in his spot on the couch, eating cereal and watching T.V. Penny was in the kitchen leaning on the butcher's block and sipping coffee. He saw the pink of the terry cloth robe she wore, saw her pale wrist and hand emerge from that pink sleeve. He saw her messy dirty blond hair piled on top of her head. She was sipping her coffee and staring at him with wide eyes. He glanced at Sheldon, whom he could only see in profile. Penny put her coffee cup down and her mouth was a tiny O as she continued to stare at him and all at once he knew. Sheldon had told her, of course he did. He had no discretion and no ability to keep anything a secret, and he didn't understand what was appropriate to say to who. He wanted to groan out loud. He didn't want Penny to know this now, it was too new, too raw, too incompletely understood for anyone to know. Anyone but Sheldon would have understood that.
"Uh, good morning," he said, and Penny didn't respond, just continued to stare at him as she sipped her coffee. Sheldon turned at his voice, and he couldn't help but drink him in. Those large eyes, that sleep messy hair, his pale skin, the curve of his bottom lip.
"Good morning, Leonard," Sheldon said, and he didn't sound any different than he did any other morning. Penny was a useful buffer, he had to admit, even though he was certain Sheldon had spilled everything to her.
"Leonard," Penny said, her voice little more than a squeak, "can you, uh, help me with something in my apartment?" She didn't wait for his answer as she walked toward the door, waved to Sheldon, and headed across the hall to her apartment. He followed her, his head down, feeling like he was about to get a scolding.
Once they were both inside Penny shut her door carefully and set her coffee cup down on her coffee table. Then she turned to him, the pink robe opened just enough to reveal the top of her breasts.
"You kissed Sheldon!"
He stared at her, still unable to believe that Sheldon told her. But he knew, he knew this about him as he knew all the other things. This was part of his autism, social disorder thing. He felt a prickling of his limbs and a tightening in his chest. What if Sheldon was not capable of the kind of relationship he wanted to have? What if what had happened was, for Sheldon, not the breathtaking and intoxicating experience that it was to him but just an occurrence? Just something that had happened and that he attached no particular significance to? He didn't know enough not to mention it to Penny, of all people, so what did it really mean to him, if anything?
"Yeah," he said.