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The Hallucination Proclamation

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This was fine. This was okay. He was okay. He didn't need a roommate, he could make it in this dingy, rundown little hellhole that was now his new home. Its okay that there were rats. And mold. And neighbors with white nostrils- Oh dear lord, he couldn't don't this. He couldn't, he wouldn't! A brilliant mind such as himself should NOT be forced to live under such conditions as these-

"Oh stop being a baby, Sheldon. You'll be fine, you'll make this work. It's temporary." Leonard reminded him. Leonard was his imaginary friend, of sorts. Well. Involuntary imaginary friend. He'd shown up a month ago, giving advice and generally being somewhat helpful for someone with no physical form. He followed Sheldon around sometimes, but more often than that he'd read some of Sheldon's comics books, or watch TV, or make them invisible tea. He had his own personality and routine, a normal schedule and his own opinions about various things. 

Basically, Sheldon was cuckoo for coco puffs. He ignored Leonard as best he could but the shorter man- Yes he was shorter, much shorter than Sheldon for some inane reason- would get depressed when ignored. He'd mope, watch Ophra of all things, and listen to emo music with his invisible headphones. 

Well, he says invisible but Sheldon could see him. He had curly brown hair, brown eyes, prescription glasses, a short little body, a very warm smile, and fairly good skin. He would be, if real, a nerd, classified as such by everyone else in the world who didn't like the same things Sheldon and Leonard did. Bunch of buffoons they were. 

"Sheldon, c'mon. Go sit down, I'll make you some tea." Leonard said. Sheldon huffed, falling back onto his lawn chair and pointedly not looking at Leonard. 

"I don't want tea. want to be respect and-oh nevermind." He needed to stop. He was never one for psychology, but he was fairly sure you weren't supposed to talk back to the voices in your head. Well, voice, singular. Or a hallucination would be more accurate. Perhaps too much of whatever the neighbor's were snorting had gotten into the air and that's why he was seeing Leonard. Stupid druggies.

"Oh stop." Leonard chastised, reading his mind. "You aren't high. Why do you insist on ignoring me, treating me like a figment of you imagination?"

"Because you are! And stop trying to make tea, the stove isn't even on!" He snapped. Slowly Leonard put down the cups in his hand, green ones Sheldon never bought, ones that weren't there, and sighed. He slowly padded out of the room, through the well separating the dingy little bathroom and dingy little kitchen. 

Sheldon wanted to apologize. He didn't move for a long time, he just sat and listened to Oprah go on and on about mental care, words ringing too close to home, until a glace at the television proved it was off. And when turned on, it was the weather channel playing. He turned it back off, frustrated. 

Things like this were starting to happen too often. Just yesterday when Leonard was "helping" him pack, Sheldon went to wave away the imaginary box and the other scientist had been packing and found it to be real when he smacked his hand against it. It startled him, until he realized he must have packed it himself and simply imagined Leonard in his place. 

He wouldn't see a therapist. They'd give him drugs, and drugs would slow and change his brilliant mind. No his work was so far unaffected by this, if anything he was advancing in his field well for all the stress he was under, and he wasn't having any memory problems or signs of lapse in scientific judgement. He was fine, expect for a Frodo the Hobbit knock off invading his head. 

He sighs, it's 9:00 pm and he needs rest. He'd "shared" a pizza with Leonard earlier, since it was pizza night, and he at least got his bed fitted with clean sheets and most of his things unpacked with Leonard's "help." Turning the lights off, or trying to as it turns out they were already off, he walks to his bedroom. He's pulling off his shirt and unbuckling his pants when he realizes Leonard is sitting on his bed.

"Aww, man!" Leonard gasps, scrunching his face up at Sheldon's half naked form. "C'mon, don't tell me you sleep nude?" He looks incredulous, like he himself just noticed Sheldon's presence. As if he's not part of Sheldon's imagination and therefore should not be surprised by things Sheldon does. 

"Wh-of course not! For heavens sake, this is my bedroom! People aren't slowed in my room, Leonard! Or on my bed!" He covers himself poorly with his shirt. Leonard just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as if Sheldon's being somehow unreasonable.

"It's my bedroom too, Sheldon." He says, looking away so Sheldon can hastily pull his pajamas on. He's already got his on, though it's not so much pajamas as it is a white tee and boxer shorts. Still, at least he's clean and not naked.

"It most certainly is not! Go to your own bedroom this instant!" He points out towards the hall, childishly pouting and resisting from stomping his foot. Barely. 

"I don't have my own room!" Leonard sighs. "This is why I made you buy the Queen sized bed, remember? Since this is a one room. We'll just have to share." 

"I'm not sharing a bed. I don't need your dead skin cells all over me, or your snoring, or-" oh good lord. He's gone crazy. He's arguing with an imaginary friends about their imaginary germs and yelling at thin air. And thin air has been yelling back, oh dear lord-

"Ssshh." Leonard pats his back, sitting beside Sheldon on the bed now. Sheldon doesn't remember sitting down. "Hey buddy, calm down. Look, I'll stay on my side and you on yours and we won't be touching, okay?" 

"You're touching me right now." He points out, but still slides to move under the covers when Leonard moves away. He sighs. "Goodnight, Leonard." He whispers, having given up on ignoring him.

"Night, buddy."