A/N I'm quite enjoying writing this story. I've not written much angst before, so I hope it's not too pretentious. I do need some feedback. Like I've stated, constructive criticism is more than welcomed, but flames are not. Now, here are the trigger warnings/content warnings for this chapter.
TW- graphic description of self-harm/self-mutilation
TW- miscarriage recovery
TW- alcohol/substance abuse
That should be it until further notice. Let me know if I need more and I will add them. Just a friendly heads-up, this whole chapter will be based in Leonard's POV. :) Hopefully that should clear up some confusion.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory. I only own Sophie, Leonard, and their angst. Nor do I own any song lyrics that I caption before every chapter. All rights go to their original owners, respectively.
"I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn freezer burn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy"-
Nirvana, "All Apologies."
Chapter Twelve
As much as sleep beckons me, I can't even close my eyes. My mind races. I'm lethargic, but I can't sleep a wink. It's so frustrating, because all I want to do is sleep, and it seems that all Sophie can do is sleep.
The past few days have been hell, at least for me. Sophie tries to speak to me, but even if I could talk, there are too many things I want to say at once. So it would be impossible to talk about just one thing and call it a night.
Sophie keeps herself busy mostly, making messes purposefully to give her something to clean, or going out to shop for groceries even though our fridge and cupboard are practically overflowing. I'm the polar opposite. At work, I find myself drifting away from a task or project. My mind is a spider web of thoughts and musings, but when I get to work, it's like my brain goes blank; wiped clean.
Even Wolowitz corners me and asks if a cat's got my tongue at lunch.
"Dude, you've been acting weird all week." Wolowitz inhales his turkey-and-mayo sandwich while looking at me suspiciously. "What the hell's going on?"
"Sorry," I say, looking at my food. I haven't even touched the tuna wrap that Sophie fixed for me this morning before I left. "It's just...Sophie and I lost the baby, and things have been a little rough all over." That's the long story short, at least. I slightly sugar-coated it.
Wolowitz frowns. "Shit. I'm sorry, man." He claps his hand on my shoulder on a brotherly manner. "Well, you know Bernadette and I here for you guys. You can come over for dinner any time you like."
"Thanks, Howard." But I don't think a night in front of the TV will cure our problems. It may get our mind off of things- momentarily. "I'll think about it."
"That's my man." Wolowitz grins at me before wolfing down the other half of his sandwich.
I force myself to swallow the tuna wrap, but it has no flavor.
Around two-o'clock in the afternoon, Sophie phones me.
"Hello?" I clamp the phone to my ear, stepping into the hallway.
She sounds worried. "Is everything okay?"
"I guess." A staticky pause. "Why?"
"You sound...stuffy." I hear the frown in her voice.
I clear my throat. "Maybe I'm coming down with something. How's your day been?"
"Oh, you know." Her tone of voice is neutral; unreadable. "Same shit, different day. But enough about me. How's your day going?"
My day has been about the equivalent of hers, but I don't want her to worry about me anymore than she already is. I don't want to give her an ulcer on top of suffering a miscarriage. "It's been alright. Wolowitz and I finally figured out the string theory Sheldon's been trying to crack for, like, nine months now."
"That's great!" Sophie masks whatever she's really feeling with peppy cheerfulness. "I'm happy for you, Leonard. I know you've been working so hard."
"Yeah, well-" I glance over at Wolowitz, who's struggling to put a plug to a chord into an outlet by his desk. "-I guess it's something." At least work gives me a sense of purpose. In the past few hours, I haven't felt completely worthless. Maybe I should follow in Sophie's footsteps and keep myself busy.
I hear an oddly familiar voice say something unintelligible in the background and Sophie says, "Well, I'd better get going. Penny, Bernadette and I are going out for a late lunch at the Cheesecake Factory."
I'm taken aback. "You've been talking to Penny?" I try not to sound territorial. I don't want to be one of those jackass guys who act like he owns his girlfriend. Sophie can hang out with whoever she wants, as long as it's not someone who's hurt her in the past or present. But it still stings that she didn't tell me that she and Penny are communicating. "For how long?" The question emerges combative, even to my own ears.
"Since she introduced me to you." Sophie sounds puzzled, and a little alarmed, too. "She's been helping me a lot, with the miscarriage and all, the past few days. And Bernadette, too. Why? Do you have a problem with it?"
"O-of course not." I finally manage to choke out a response. "It's just-"
Penny is just yet another painful reminder that I'm a failure, and that I still have a piece of my heart saved for her that I shouldn't. I couldn't keep it together for Penny, and now I'm falling apart with Sophie, too. Penny left because she knew I wasn't worth it anymore. I don't deserve her, and I don't deserve you, either, Sophie. You're too good of a woman for me. The man in the relationship is supposed to stay strong for the woman. But how can I, if I'm falling apart at the seams? I'm sorry, Penny and Sophie. You both deserve better.
I clear my throat again. "I'm sorry, I'm keeping you. Go have fun with Penny and Bernadette."
"Alright," Sophie agrees half-heartedly, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'll see you tonight. I'll make meatloaf and mashed potatoes. How does that sound?"
"It sounds good. Thanks." Although, I can't fathom eating right now. I can barely keep down the tuna wrap I had for lunch. "I'll see you tonight."
"You too!" Her light-hearted promise is followed by the resounding click confirming the phone call's end. I sigh, pocket my phone, and turn to face Wolowitz, who's still trying to adjust the plug in the socket.
"What are you doing, Wolowitz?" I sigh again, crouching down beside him to examine the socket.
"Can't. Get. This. Damn. Thing. In-" Wolowitz grits his teeth and forces the plug into the socket. "I'm trying to connect the new computer sys- Ouch!" Sparks fly, literally, and he jerks his hand away, landing on his back next to the socket.
I massage my temples with my index fingers and exhale through gritted teeth. "Come on. We can work on that tomorrow. Let's just...get ready to go home."
As we pack up the room, Wolowitz asks me why I'm wearing long sleeves in June. "It's, like, ninety degrees out," he reminds me, raising his eyebrows quizzically.
"It's nothing. I'm just cold, that's all." I push my sleeves further up onto my wrists. Now I wish I was wearing my work gloves. "Seriously. I'm fine. I just want to go home."
Wolowitz raises his eyebrows again, frowns, then drops them. "Okay."
As we leave the building, I can't help but think that Sophie keeping something from me is out of character for her. We used to tell each other everything.
If she really has been communicating with Penny so heavily and for so long behind my back, what else could she be keeping from me?
*TBBT TBBT TBBT*
When I arrive home, the apartment is vacant. The TV is still on, however muted with blurry subtitles, and a note is pasted to the fridge door.
Leonard,
The girls and I will be home around 5:30 this evening. I already put dinner on the stove; it should be ready in about half an hour or so. Feel free to start without me if you're hungry. I can't wait to see you!
Sincerely,
Sophie
Xoxo
Flowy, pastel-pink hearts outline the paper. I leave the note stamped on the fridge and check on the meatloaf, which is still baking in the oven.
I can't imagine eating even if I force myself to. I don't know if I'd be able to keep anything down anyhow.
A silver knife lies beside the hot stove, glowing, like an entity, on the counter. The object almost beckons me, begging me to pick it up. I find myself pulling my sleeves down to my elbows. The marks from the last time I cut are fading into scars, but are still somewhat visible, little dotted lines across my veins. Unable to take it anymore, I finally cave and yank the knife off of the counter, drawing it slowly across my wrist. Copper-colored, thick blood drips onto the floor. The pain is sharp and startling, but I find myself seeking solace in it, forcing myself to embrace the pain. It's probably nothing close to the pain that Sophie's feeling, but it'll stand for something.
I wait for the pain to subside, then chuck the knife into the drawer and snap it shut, my breathing labored.
No wonder Sophie avoids me.
I'm scary.
I even scare myself.
How pathetic is that?
