Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for reading/favouriting/following the story. And thank you for all your comments, too. This is one of the most crucial chapters. I hope it's worth the wait. Also, apologies for the super late update. These past few weeks extremely hectic.
Sheldon didn't realize he'd been standing before Amy's apartment for too long. It was Penny's call that awoke him rudely from the confines of the anguish he found himself wandering often these days.
"Where have you been, Sheldon?"
"I'll be home soon." He didn't bother giving an explanation. The words froze in his throats if he tried to speak, grated against his flesh. Time was flying by and he'd been left far too behind to catch up with what he'd lost. His head throbbed, tears prickled in his eyes, and his mouth was dry.
Amy's face blinked before him, her familiar, pained expressions he hadn't been able to forget ever since she broke up with him flashed before him in a painstaking clarity. For the moment, he didn't consider going anywhere other than this place before he decided to be back to his apartment, hoping to get some time for himself, wishing he'd find a way out of the mess soon. Each step towards his apartment reminded him of the lost world, the fragile walls plummeting down in sheer rapidity, barely giving him a moment to consider the consequences — it was too quick, too painful to even think, let alone accept he had lost Amy this time. She'd asked him to reconcile and he'd turned her down. But then, she'd found someone better than him; and a part of him knew it would happen sooner or later. It hadn't come to him as a surprise.
Hadn't he heard people say she deserved better and he'd ignored them?
"I'm going to ruin something she likes."
"Wait, her life wasn't enough?"
Howard's words prickled him sharper as the rain descended gracefully from the inky sky, his words resembling the cold knives that drilled into his flesh at the downpour. He might have cried a little bit, allowing the rain to wash away the remaining confusion regarding her departure, but accepting he did would mean utter submission, the thorough confirmation of having lost Amy forever. It couldn't happen. She wasn't going to leave him.
She'd said she had been patient with him. His friends told him he was a pain to them and to her. He was aware of him him being too difficult to be with, but he didn't know how to be different. How not to be annoying. Sheldon never understood how was he the problem when he'd never meant to hurt anyone, let alone Amy.. He pondered over his own words, uncertain where he went wrong. Should he have kept quiet about wanting to watch Flash? Was that when she decided to leave? Should he have spent more time with her? Should he have moved in with her when she asked him to? However bizarre the ideas sounded, at this moment, filled with regrets Sheldon knew, he would do anything to get her back. He didn't know where she'd gone to. It had been a week since she left and no one had told him anything about her. It made more sense to him now why everyone around him acted so differently now. Why Leonard didn't want to leave him alone, why Penny insisted they watched his favorite shows and movies, why Raj worked with him all the time, why Bernadette behaved as though he were a child, and why Howard regularly insisted he'd drive Sheldon home from work, and why Stuart was extra careful about his favorite comic books. Their care at that time seemed unnecessary but he understood now.
When he reached his home, he knocked at Penny's door. "Where have you been, Sheldon? Come on in." She quickly handed him a towel and went to prepare tea.
"I don't need tea," he said, his gaze fixed at the floor beneath him. His voice broke and cracked, immediately drawing Penny's attention to him.
"You alright, sweetie?"
He sat on the sofa, unable to get rid of the images that momentarily blinded him, making him forget why he was in Penny's apartment instead of his own. He didn't need to be here. Where else was he supposed to be anyway?
"You knew she was going to end it with me? And that she was going to leave?" Sheldon's tone held a hint of broken bitterness.
She thought for a moment. "I told her to be true to herself and do what made her happy."
Sheldon couldn't read her expressions. Was she mocking him? How could she encourage Amy to do something so preposterous when she knew he loved her so much? "Do what makes her hap— She's had everything worked out for her. What more happiness did she need?"
"You can't think like that, Sheldon."
"Why not? We were going strong. There was no reason for her to break up with me. Not when I was going to —"
"Look, it's not my fault she thought you were a bad boyfriend."
Sheldon stared at her, stunned. Did Amy always think he'd been a bad boyfriend? Penny's words stung sharper than the icy water that still clung to his clothes. "Oh, I see.." He gulped, unsure of what to say next. He remembered Amy's smiles, her anger, her last phone call. He stood up, ignoring Penny's voice and headed for his own room. It was pain or helplessness or both that overpowered his thoughts. There was nothing on TV that could entertain him. No new TV show, no Star Wars movie nor any video games seemed fulfilling enough. Every little sound — whether they were real or his imagination — reminded him of Amy. The emptiness of the house magnified what he was feeling, but the smallest of the noise alerted him, making him wonder if Amy had come back. He didn't know where she'd been to. She'd found someone better — it was all that mattered now. They'd murmured to themselves when they thought he couldn't hear them. All of his friends and even Leslie Winkle. Their words that dripped of derision and mockery, and he'd been too stupid to understand them.
Leonard hadn't returned home. Maybe he'd been with Penny. After the initial trouble in their relationship, Leonard and Penny were getting back to normal, leaving behind their differences. Sheldon was thankful he was alone in the apartment; he wanted to stay alone.
He'd never been comfortable with the changes. When Amy came in his life, he'd changed dramatically in a short time. She made him feel so many things he didn't know it was possible for him to feel. The change was painful. He never wanted things to be different, but the way everything changed, colors filled his otherwise black and white world, he'd begun to be gradually comfortable with the changes. With Amy gone now, Sheldon knew he'd go back to being how he was before she came. It wouldn't be too hard this time, right? After all, he'd made it this far without his father, his grandfather, and Professor Proton, and his once-best friend, Tam. How could Amy's departure be any different? He would get over her, stitch back the wounds, cover the bruises, and soon it would be as if he'd never known someone named Amy Farrah Fowler. It would all be over. She'd be out of his head soon enough. He'd always assumed the matters of the hearts were asinine that held no value in the real world. That's why he found Leonard trying to woo Penny outright ridiculous. Love was nothing but chemical reactions in your head which faded with time. It would be over very soon for him as well. He wasn't an emotional fool like Leonard. He was a logical human being, always relying on his intellectual abilities instead of the chemicals your brain produced looking at someone you found attractive. Once enough time passed, there would be no trace of Amy in his life. They'd never talk about her. Maybe he'd find someone else, someone —
The tearful gasp that followed at the thought of him replacing Amy with someone else was the first sign that told Sheldon none of what he'd assumed was ever going to happen. He couldn't stitch back the wounds and make his heart look it hadn't been broken. He couldn't put enough band aids to stop the purple skin from turning into the bloodied red. He couldn't stop anything from happening this time. For the first time in his life, he was falling into a cruel nothingness and had no control over it. He couldn't pretend to be alright when the part of him was left completely empty.
The engagement ring still sat in his drawer, forlorn, waiting patiently for the woman to whom it was supposed to belong. Except, she wasn't going to come back. Sheldon fought back the tears, still denying again and again he had feelings of any kind. He thought of Spock, thought of how Spock would deal with a situation like this, but there was no answer to his pleas this time.
Sheldon went back to his room, his teeth clattering. He changed into dry clothes and lay down, still telling himself he was only tired and stiff from being in wet cloths for too long. His eyes slid again and again to his and Amy's photograph, a souvenir he'd kept from their Valentine's Day date that they celebrated on the train. Exactly a few weeks ago, everything had been perfect. His friends' words didn't matter. Even though he could never read Amy's expressions properly, he'd learned to understand when she looked pleased or when he'd hurt her. Then how could he have missed everything else?
"It's not my fault she thought you were a bad boyfriend."
Sheldon sighed, his body stiffening, as heaviness began to creep in. He thought of calling his mother, but she might come here if she sensed something was wrong with him.
There's nothing wrong with me.
He repeated the words to himself, hoping the iteration would render their influence true. He only needed a few hours, days, weeks, months… or maybe a lifetime. A lifetime was too long to devote in someone's memories. It wouldn't be that long. He'd soon find a way out of this mess.
Nothing comforted him. The cold began to chill him from inside, an ice that couldn't be thawed by any fire or the bruises that couldn't be cured with any ointments.
It was after a few minutes or hours that Leonard knocked at his door. When Sheldon didn't answer, Leonard entered anyway, sniffing the chilly air, and switched on the lights. Sheldon buried his head in his pillow at the sudden assault of the lights.
"Sheldon—" Leonard placed his hand on his shoulder.
Sheldon considered sitting up but it seemed like a colossal deed at the moment.
"I know how you're feeling," Leonard continued. "I'm sorry." There was a long silence that turned the panic within him into a living object, something he could touch with his hands, something that would easily break all the walls he'd built.
"Why'd she leave, Leonard?" Sheldon sat up, looking at his friend expectantly, hoping Leonard would provide an answer he'd been looking for — that it wasn't his fault. But Leonard said no such thing. He took a deep breath, his eyes cast down.
"I don't know what to say," he said at last.
"You, too, are trying to say I was a bad boyfriend, aren't you?" The guards were up once again and Sheldon appeared unfazed by the loss.
Leonard fumbled with his words, unable to get a coherent sentence out of his mouth. He did that when he was trying to say something he would rather not speak.
"Say it, Leonard!" Sheldon almost shouted, startling Leonard.
"You can't blame her—" His words were careful, uncertain. "After everything, she did need better treatment from you."
"Better treatment? She didn't even.. I mean, how could she go away just like that?"
"After five years, Sheldon, she wanted a better relationship. And all she ever got from you were half-hearted dates and less than required efforts from your side."
Why did no one understand? He'd been trying hard to make their relationship work. "That's not true," Sheldon began. "We were so much in love." He understood the absurdity of his statement, and was aware of the fact that he'd said he loved Amy in front of someone else for the first time.
"Sometimes love isn't enough."
"It is." Sheldon sighed. "You just need someone who understands that. And she didn't." His logical brain was suddenly on the defensive mode. He might have laughed at someone else using these words, but it surely wasn't his fault?
"Are you saying it's Amy's fault you two broke up?"
"Yes. You're getting it right now. I had an eng—"
"You can't be serious, Sheldon," Leonard cut him before Sheldon could finish his sentence. "Amy had really been far too patient with you. We all are. And everyone has a breaking point."
"What do you mean?" Sheldon had an inkling the conversation was drawing to the end, with a conclusion he wished did not happen.
"Amy left you because you broke her heart," Leonard said with a finality in his tone. "Again and again. Because you took her for granted all the time. No one wants to go through that, Sheldon. No one. Not for a day, let alone for years."
"I didn't mean to."
Leonard gave a sigh. "That's why people tolerate you. Because you don't mean to hurt them."
"Even Amy.. D - did she—?"
"Yes!" Leonard's voice was sharper than before. "Just because people do whatever you want them to do, or go about your whims, doesn't mean they don't have their own lives. Amy had as well. She loved you, Sheldon, and you wore her down."
"But I had —"
"I can't believe —" Leonard threw his hands in the air. "You need to see where you went wrong, Sheldon. Just because we're here now with you, doesn't mean we'll always be."
"You aren't even listening to me," Sheldon said angrily.
"Because I'm done listening to you. I came to comfort you because Penny thought you needed someone to talk to. But I didn't expect you to be still blaming Amy. I thought you'd be humbled.. I don't know why I was expecting this, but anyway. I'd leave you now. Think where you're wrong. And then we'd talk tomorrow." Leonard's words were quick and dismissive.
Sheldon leaned against the headrest, too exhausted to form any words, his thoughts running solely back to Amy. People tolerated him. Amy tolerated him. He had been the bad boyfriend.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes, memories flooded in, vision before him fading in and out of the focus. The room suffocated him, the idea of living here one more day was harrowing. He needed to go away, leave this place forever and never return. Where would he go anyway? He'd spent his life's most crucial years in this town… how was he was going to survive anywhere else?
In a new town where no one knew him, it would be easier to start over, although starting over wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to forget any of this had ever happened or that the last five years of his life had been a reality. Eventually, he knew where he was going to be.
Getting into Imperial College London had been entirely hassle free. He'd been in touch with Dr. Alice Gast, the then president of the University, whom he'd known due to the similar backgrounds. She'd grown up in Texas and studied in the Princeton University and University of Southern California. He'd met her once or twice, a woman he didn't entirely like, but she'd promised him a favor should he ever need one in wake of a help he'd provided her and his unparalleled genius that ensured that. His works had been famous in the international scientific community, celebrated even, which made it easier to leave Pasadena. The woman was thrilled when he proposed moving to the UK, stating seeing another Texan at the University would be a delight. With an impressive résumé and a leading work in String Theory, he'd been invited to join the University straight away. Sheldon was relieved, for he didn't have to wait long or take extra efforts . He'd left Pasadena the same night, leaving a video message, bidding his friends a final goodbye.
No matter where he went or what people he met, Leonard's words haunted his waking moments. People tolerated him. He'd never cared about people in the first place. Who were they to decide things on his behalf? But suddenly, he found himself at the mercy of the strangers' opinions of him. Did they like him? Was he being a nuisance to them? Did he cause them inconvenience? He never voiced his concerns, frustrated that he couldn't tell what they felt about his words and silence alike. Whenever he saw people make incorrect references, Sheldon chose to stay quiet, ignoring the fact that he was letting them remain in the rut of ignorance and lies. It was now obvious to him that people did not like to be told they were wrong or could do better, so the best option was to stay quiet, however torturous it sounded to him. His life was an uncomfortable chaos with all the strangers swarming in and out like noisy bees even though he neither wanted them nor was keen on having them hovering around him.
He knew ignoring the foolhardy of the general crowd wasn't in him, but he couldn't bring himself to upset them either. He tried telling himself Leonard's words no longer mattered when he was thousands of miles away from him, in a different continent, where nothing of what he did or said would ever reach Leonard. He, however, found himself wondering if people really did not like him. He'd never worried about being liked — he was the best at what he did. Physics.
It wasn't enough. Being good at physics hadn't made Amy stay with him. He ignored people, then back at home, wrote letters to their names, relentless at how they caused him a nuisance, and never posted them to the people. He had to convince himself his words reached them somehow.
Sheldon hadn't expected the students at the University to take any liking for him. He'd been an unpleasant teacher after all. He did remember Penny's explanations regarding her acting classes, which he implemented in his own routine while teaching. Once his first class ended, he found several students rushing to him to get their queries answered. For the first time, it was a pleasant feeling to be liked by the younger crowd. The students smiled, and as he could tell, were delighted when he cooperated with them, answering them patiently. He'd never been the patient one, but being so wasn't too hard. Sheldon realized he could be more patient than he thought initially.
Years passed and he still did not forget Amy. She was the first thought in his head after waking up and the last thought before he fell asleep. His friends occupied a part of his thoughts as well — every moment of his success, his achievements, he wanted to share them with Leonard, Howard, Raj, Bernadette, and Penny. He'd wanted to congratulate Leonard when he read his book; or when Howard went back to the International Space Station once again, this time for whole six months. Howard was a national hero, and Sheldon couldn't deny it was well-deserved. It was more than anything he himself could ever achieve.
He would send them a Christmas card, a present, but expected nothing in return. The gifts and the cards were the little he could do after sabotaging his friendships. When Leonard and Penny moved to their own house, it was Penny who wrote to him. He'd smiled. Always a thoughtful friend.
When Sheldon bought a house, realizing he'd be staying in London for his whole life — where else could he go? — he'd wanted a small house – warming ceremony, but he'd had no friends, no companions close enough to include in what he'd consider his achievement. However, Mrs. Olivia, one of his neighbors, had shown immense interest in him. She came unannounced, asking if he minded a company, and he'd been unable to say that he wanted some time alone. Later on, she told him she was divorced, and had moved back to her ancestral house where her father lived. Slowly, she established that she was his friend.
"You've had friends, right?" she spoke through a wide smile.
Sheldon stayed silent while she narrated her life's problems that included financial discomfort. He didn't know how to act other than offering her help.
"I could help you," he said. Her face broke into a smile and she hugged him, mouthing a "thank you " to him.
She'd been his only friend, occasionally inviting him for dinner at her house, until one day he didn't show up. She walked into his room, even though no one was allowed inside his room, and sat down next to him.
"Is everything okay?" Whether she was mocking him or she was genuinely sympathetic, Sheldon didn't know.
He nodded to himself, wishing she'd go away. He didn't need a company. She didn't. He heard her words, fading into nothingness, become the invisible emptiness he felt after finding out that Amy had been married. One of his colleagues had been to the Stanford University the last week where she was giving her lecture on one of her recently published papers. Her husband, who had co-written the paper, had accompanied her there. He'd read the name when he'd read her paper. Dave Gibbs. And even though the name sounded too familiar, Sheldon had hoped it wasn't what he'd been thinking. The wait, no matter how long, was never over for him. Deep down he'd hoped for a reunion until that moment when the final tie between them ended abruptly, the painful sensations that were barely the stories finally becoming a reality.
"You okay, Sheldon?"
Sheldon looked in her direction, uncomfortable at their proximity, and was caught off guard when she kissed him. It was Amy's face that came to his mind before he tore himself away, anger bubbling within him.
"What are you doing?" He'd never yelled at anyone in years, but he couldn't do this.
"I'm sorry.. I thought.. I'm really sorry. You looked.."
He looked away, trying to wipe off the figments of violation he suddenly felt at the presence in his room.
"You're okay?" she asked again. "You look.. upset."
Sheldon shook his head, swallowing thickly. He'd been drinking for a while, but it didn't feel like he was drunk enough to talk about it. What was he supposed to say? Ever since he'd heard the news, he'd been partly in denial. Saying the words aloud only made grief more real. A living thing that only existed in his mind so far.
"You can't be waiting for someone who broke your heart."
He was infuriated again. Deep down, in spite of himself, Sheldon had accepted the fact that Amy did deserve better. He'd never been good enough for her. He'd never been good enough for anyone.
"Would you please leave?"
"You seem to be suffering," Olivia said.
"Oh, no." His voice broke, rose higher. "I'm alright." After all, he'd spent years mastering his emotions. Becoming like his favorite TV character, all logical, all the time.
"But you're yelling."
Blood rushed in his head, drowning all the noises around. Darkness began to overtake the remaining senses in him, denying him the little mercy he desperately needed in face of the emotional breakdown he'd been avoiding for hours. Why did no one ever believe him? He'd never been the fool!
"When I speak in a regular volume, you don't seem to understand I've left this Amy nonsense behind me." He was breathing heavily. "Would you please leave now?" He didn't look at the woman's face lest she saw the first traces of tears in his eyes. "Please, from the next time, do not enter my room without permission."
Sheldon was back to his younger self again. The brokenness he'd experienced, the sickness that eroded his soul was fresh in his mind; the utter hopelessness of the sun never reaching at the horizon as moonlight waned in his world was far too real. He choked at the thoughts, the feelings he could never erase were back in him all over again.
He spent his days alone, locked in his new house, pretending he didn't exist. He'd taken the days off, and the University had happily granted him a week long holiday from his tireless works. His mother said she'd have come to him, but Meemaw was sick. A few days later, he heard Meemaw was gone, too.
How fast could things spiral out of his control? Hadn't he dreamt of a perfectly logical world that was entirely devoid of petty feelings? Why could that not happen now? A world without feelings, no tyrannical emotions involved, would have been so much better than living in fear of losing people, and getting hurt when they did leave. He'd attended his Meemaw's funeral and left immediately.
His mother was worried about him. Through the indistinct state of his own perplexities, Sheldon could tell his mother had been worried about his well-being.
"You've lost too much weight."
"I'm fine, mom."
She wouldn't believe him.
"You've grown so much, Sheldon," she said on the phone one day. "I never expected this."
"I am a grown man, mom," he answered, a little offended.
Oftentimes, she asked him to start a new life, move on from his past, and step into a better life. "Jesus has everything planned for you, Sheldon."
He never asked why did Jesus have to take everything away from him in the first place. He'd never blamed Jesus. It was his decision, his life.
When his name was declared for the Nobel Prize, he'd wanted his mother and siblings to be with him. Georgie and he hadn't been on good terms with each other. Even their brief conversation at Meemaw's funeral hadn't depleted the gap in their relationship. But he did expect his sister and his mother to be with him on his big day. Missy was pregnant the second time and she couldn't make it to Sweden. Their mother decided to stay with her, making it impossible for her to join Sheldon as well.
"You can invite your friends," his mother suggested.
It was unfair to them that he should suddenly message them he wanted to see his friends because it was a special day for him. A few years ago, it wouldn't have sounded too bad, but he couldn't bring himself to do that now.
"No, I'm sure they'd come." His mother was confident.
Much to his surprise, his friends did come. They'd all been there for him. He saw all the faces, his best friends, their familiar smiles, and he almost gave into the temptation of falling back into the life he'd escaped. Their presence reminded him that there was no Amy. He couldn't not thank her when she was the biggest reason he was the man he'd become now. His friends, in their presence and absence alike, had shaped him in the ways Sheldon could never have imagined.
Despite everything, he found himself completely unprepared to talk to them, face them, and have a normal conversation with them. It was as though he didn't know them, the new versions of the people he'd once known and loved. A lot could change. He'd changed, too. He'd stopped being a part of their world a long time ago. Now, he would have to force himself in their group, like all the time at the school and then college, where he never fit. While he'd never craved for their validation, he couldn't muster enough courage to go and face them. At one point, he wanted to go back and congratulate his friends on their achievements, but indignation and burning guilt stopped him from taking any further action.
When Leonard came to talk to him, the memory of their last encounter was still fresh in his head. He couldn't take Leonard being disappointed in him, thinking he was too selfish to have invited him. He'd been terrified, and waited, mustering the courage to talk to Leonard, but he was gone before Sheldon could talk to him.
Yes, he would write to his friends on Christmas, thank them for joining him on his day, tell them it wouldn't have been the same without them. They deserved to know that.
What he hadn't expected was that Leonard and Penny would show up here. They weren't supposed to be here at all. And Amy either. But they did come. And he had to face them. If he wasn't wrong, Howard would be here too. Very soon.
Alice Gast is the current president of Imperial College London and her academic qualifications mentioned are all available on the web. Also, please excuse the typos for the chapter. It's midnight and I'm too exhausted to check on them, though I hope there aren't too many of them. ;)
