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Our Green Palace

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Leonard Leakey Hofstadter. Prince of Germany. Brown hair and brown eyes. Quiet and quite handsome. Sixteen years old, and quite unforgettably one of many Princes of Germany. Leonard wears slightly rounded, tortoise-shell, thick rimmed glasses with a high prescription. 

 

He pushes up his glasses and shovels a medium sized forkful of Gulasch into his mouth.

 

His mother, strong widowed woman, Queen Beverly speaks in her slightly strangled plummy voice, going through her announcements for the boys. “...and Leonard, dear, you are to be attending badminton sessions every Thursday as of next week.” Leonard looked up, escaping from the enclosure of his own thoughts he’s so comfortably familiar with.

 

He starts to shake his leg meanwhile an uncomfortable warm tingle grows in his chest. He looks around the room, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all the noises and sights that he was completely oblivious to before. He places his fork down and starts to play with the buttons on his cardigan. He starts ruminating about badminton sessions. He sighs anxiously, frowns, and bites his thumb, head down, swinging his restless leg now. 



As soon as all at the table are finished, the servants clear away the plates and the Princes are excused. Walking out of the large, grand dining room, Leonard keeps his head down and his two older brothers, aged 18 and 20, exchange chatter and laughter on their way out of the dining room and probably into the drawing room or just outside the palace, one assumes. Leonard rushes to his room. 

 

His sweaty hands grab the door and slam it shut behind him and he tries to breathe. He curls into the corner with his knees to his chest, head falling down onto his knees, his short strands of curly hair falling with his head. He’s breathing so heavily, crying now. “Oh my god ,” he whispers as he feels an even more intense wave of anxiety, bitter like death. He  wipes his eyes and shuts them. He holds back his head and takes in a sharp breath, clenching his muscles tight. Waiting for this to be over. Please, God let it be over.

 

Flustered and red, he pushes out the breath from his lips and grabs the notebook from hidden under his bed. He scribbles away furiously to let out all the things he’s feeling...

 

I’ve felt like this for so long now and it doesn’t feel right. It’s getting worse. My own mind is attacking me. I’m so scared someone’s going to find out. Sheldon’s got to know. I have to keep leaving class for “medical reasons”  but I think he knows what the problem is. I just hope to god nobody thinks I’m a freak. They already think I’m a nerd. Sure, I stay quiet and I keep to myself and people leave me alone, but if this keeps happening, people will notice me too much. I can’t let that happen. I have to live a normal life. I already live in a hell hole of a dungeon-palace where nobody has any emotional connections and we all just assume our god damn roles and don’t talk to each other about anything other than royal duties. I can’t let school become a hell-hole too. 

It’s just too much.

I don’t like to think about it all though. It all hurts to think about it and it just freaks me out even more. I think I’m done writing. I’ll be fine. I’m alright now. I’ll be fine.



Leonard tosses the notebook under his bed. He sighs, rubs his eyes and dresses into his pyjamas and a red dressing gown. He stretches his arms above his head and sits himself  on the chair in the corner of his room and picks up a book from the stack on the big round table in front of the chair. The Catcher In The Rye. He glares at it temptingly as he holds it in his hands, but he decides against it. He gets up and takes a walk down the corridor to the library to find some books on the subject matter of theoretical physics, something Leonard is currently studying in school and that has piqued an interest in him. 

 

As Leonard treads into the soft, light room aligned by shelves of brown homely books, a soft twinge stokes his spine and a calm flood of chemicals swim through his blood. He smiles and sniffs up the smell of the room. He sighs out loud, almost overwhelmed by it all. This whole room is full of things that can kill all the time in the world and steal all of his consciousness. 

 

Not long after browsing, he picks up a book and immerses himself in a world that’s much more simple. He wishes he could be normal and feel okay no matter what he’s doing or what room he’s in but things just aren’t that simple for him. Everything else is just too uncomfortable. Things are really tough.