Penny slumped against her couch, only to get up at the sound of someone rapping on her door.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, falling limp and greasy about her shoulders. She readied the warnings of a Nebraska-style-ass-whooping if whoever it was decided to stay there longer than five seconds.

"Oh," all thoughts about retrieving the bat from behind her dresser simply floated away, like a lazy bumble bee done with the pollen from a flower. "Leonard."

"Hi," he said, his lips twitching like he wanted to smile but would be punished if he did. "Hi, Penny. How—how was work?"

She pulled a face, because falling into the category of "giggling, ditzy blonde," was the only possible way she knew to scrub away the occurrences of the previous morning. "The same. Cheescake. Bad tips. Sexist jokes. Assholes trying to look down my top."

He breathed out, slow and steady. Controlled. Maybe he thought she didn't notice. Maybe he'd forgotten the way she used to watch him sleep. She knew the way he breathed. "Maybe you should leave, you hate it so much."

She frowned at him. "I can't afford to leave, Leonard."

"Right." He muttered. "Right. Of course."

XXX

His eyes were downcast, overshadowed and unhappy.

"Leonard," she said, just to make him look up. She pulled back her messy hair and flashed him a smile that trembled, then faltered after a few seconds. "Is there anything wrong?"

He sighed and didn't answer. She affixed her blue eyes to his dark ones, expelling every little drop of willpower and fierceness through her retinas, hoping he got the message.

XXX

"Well, yeah." He said, softly.

She frowned, resisting the urge to pout and make him think she wasn't taking him as seriously as she was. "Leonard. I'm sorry." She said. Her eyes flicked onto his, and she felt something behind her chest tremble as she said, "Do you want to come in and talk about it?"

XXX

His lips pulled tight and she was struck by the sudden, alarming sensation that she'd just said something wrong and terrible.

She wanted to slam the door and run away to her room, but not only would that be childish, but she'd probably be hurting him and neither of them would even know why.

XXX

He looked at her. For a long time.

He probably didn't realise he was scaring the hell out of her.

XXX

There was something in his eyes, a glimmer, a shine, she didn't quite know—but she was aware it was there just as much as she was aware of her own heartbeat. Like decisions were dancing through his mind—to come in and risk comeuppance from his girlfriend?—or to run as far and as fast as he could away from her?

"It's just coffee." She said. "You can have coffee, can't you? Priya won't hurt you for that?"

His brow furrowed. "I thought you didn't have coffee?"

XXX

She wished she hadn't ventured past how was your day. Really, how hard was it to answer a question? A simple question. Good or bad. Simple.

Then she could have sent him on his way, saying she needed to wash her hair or some other fabricated excuse.

Because this really was all her fault.

XXX

"Penny? I thought you didn't have coffee?"

She took a breath in. "Well... I guess I found some."

"Oh." He said, in a small voice. "Oh. Alright."

His eyes drifted away from hers. She wanted to scream, but she swallowed her desperate voice, and instead said, "Leonard, seriously," a small laugh. To let him know she wasn't paranoid or continually picking up all the details he thought she missed now they weren't a couple. Which she did. "You're freaking me out."

"Sorry," he muttered. His eyes rewinded to the hallway. "I—have to go get mustard,"

XXX

"Why?" she said.

XXX

He shifted a little in his spot. "It's takeout tonight," he said. "I—sort of on purpose forgot Sheldon's mustard."

XXX

"Why would you do that?"

XXX

His eyes flashed into hers, dark and troubled and wanting to say something they couldn't. "I did it to get away from Priya."

Then he turned, giving her a small—friendly, how was that still possible?—wave and went for the staircase, his neat footfalls plodding down, bouncing about in her brain and doubling over and echoing after themselves, because she was sure her mind was about to fall to pieces.

XXX

It was only when an unwelcome rush of warmth and the sensation of something binding her chest hit her with full wrath that she realised she'd been breathing hard.

She raised a hand to her temples, not sure if the world was spinning so hard because she'd been hyperventilating, or because of what had just happened on her doorstep.

XXX

She spun on her heel and went into her bedroom, almost stumbling against her doorframe.

She sunk onto her bed with her head in her hands.

And there on her dresser, bright and shining and a reminder of happier times much like Leonard himself, was a snowflake preserved between two pieces of glass.

I don't know whether that's a good ending or not. Hmm.