Sheldon is not one to toss and turn in bed when he can't fall asleep; he has his mind for that. Whenever nights give him grief, he lets his head do the exercises while his body remains still on his bed, waiting for exhaustion and sleep to catch up. He recites pi to a thousand places, solves problems only geniuses have the ability to conceive, or imagines himself running like The Flash to the Grand Canyon and back until he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Or at least that's what he likes to believe he does, because his roommate thinks, or rather knows, otherwise.

In all their years together, Leonard can count in one hand the number of times he slept peacefully when Sheldon has trouble sleeping. It's like the roommate agreement has, aside from the explicit provisions favoring Sheldon, a lot of other implied sufferings he have to endure. Not that these continue to bother him, Sheldon is his best friend after all and they have been in that place for too long, but there are times when he wishes for just a little bit of mercy from the anxiety Sheldon unwittingly shares with him.

"Sheldon, are you doing the Morse Code using your head on our wall?" Leonard asks, speaking loudly through the wall between his room and Sheldon's.

"Oh good, you got it," a distressed Sheldon says. "Brain acrobatics are not working, Leonard, I have to move so I'd get tired and fall asleep."

"Really," Leonard remarks, "have they ever worked before? Cause I have eight years to prove that they didn't."

Sheldon lets out a sigh, loud enough for him to hear in the other room, and then continues making the annoying, tapping sound.

"Sheldon, stop banging your head on the wall!"

"I can't, Leonard. I've been sleep-deprived for three days, I need to sleep."

Unable to control himself any longer, Leonard gets out of bed and makes his way to the other room where he finds Sheldon standing and using his already reddish forehead to make dots and dashes on their divider wall.

"Don't you think I know that? Your sleep deprivation is affecting me, too. And, may I point out that you are not the only one with relationship troubles here? It has only been three days, Sheldon, and for me to be in the proper condition to win Penny back and maybe be of help to you and Amy, I need to sleep."

Sheldon stops and turns to the smaller physicist. "You're right. I apologize. " he says as he moves to the other side of the room, and starts banging his head on the wall there. "I should do this here so you can sleep. Good night, Leonard-by the way, that is the message I'm trying to send you through Morse Code. It is quite difficult to do dashes with one's forehead so it may not be clear and I don't want you to get the wrong message."

"The wrong message like 'I really want you to sleep but I can't sleep so let's share the burden," Leonard answers dryly.

"Yes. That wouldn't be correct at all, Leonard. Now, go to sleep and refresh that brain of yours, you'll understand Morse better tomorrow," he says and gives Leonard a tired smile.

Leonard turns his head to one side and raises his arms in surrender. "With any luck, you'll bang your head a little too strongly and then, instead of sleeping, you'll just lose consciousness. Problem solved," he mutters under his breath and walks out.

After seven minutes more of code head-banging, Sheldon seems to have come to his senses. "This is silly," he says as he changes out of his pajamas.

Amy is probably asleep already, he tells himself, but he really needs to settle this right now. And although he agreed to give her time apart, their separation is causing him his focus. It keeps raising his anxiety levels and, this time, it is not productive but extremely debilitating. He misses her and he knows she misses him, too. So, he decided not to stretch their agony any further.

That is how he ended there. In the middle of the night, approaching door 314, listening to an odd sound coming somewhere inside her building, and gathering the courage to lift his hand and knock as he had done many times before. He lifts his right hand slowly and proceeds with the action.

But, before his knuckles even touch the wooden door, he stops and then bows his head dejectedly. The sound becomes clearer to him as it plays louder, as she plays louder. Apparently like him, Amy is awake and, from the sounds of it, is having as bad a night as he's having.

The music from her harp is awfully slow and sad that Sheldon instantaneously loses the energy and the courage to face her. "Everbody hurts," she sings, her voice breaking. He stands in front of her door, waiting for her to continue singing; she does not, as if she too has lost the energy to continue. She nonetheless proceeds to play the rest of the song.

He feels the hurt and sadness in her music so he halts and sighs. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'll give you space," he whisphers, as if she's in front of him. He steps a little bit away, literally giving space.

But, instead of walking away, Sheldon merely goes to the left side of her door. He sits down beside it and proceeds to hug his knees with both arms, bringing them to the level of his chin. He closes his eyes as he feels her harp music soothe him somehow, the thought of her playing just a few feet away bringing him a sense of relief and comfort.

"Just a few minutes," he says.

Soon, the minutes turn to hours and the night to day, as sleep finally caught up with Sheldon: not with him lying still on his bed, or banging his head against the wall, but with him, a boyfriend, meekly sitting outside his girlfriend's door.

My apologies for grammatical lapses; I'm afraid my English is getting rusty. Reviews are greatly appreciated.