As Stuart Bloom In TBBT Chapter 38: The Gratitude Theory

Novel: As Stuart Bloom In TBBT Author: WhatIf4132 Updated: Jun 03, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 38: The Gratitude Theory from As Stuart Bloom In TBBT, a Adventure novel by WhatIf4132.

Sheldon's holding index cards again.

"I need to make an announcent."

Leonard freezes mid-Halo shot. "Oh no."

"This isn't bad. It's—" Sheldon consults his cards. "—positive. Affirmative. A statent of appreciation."

"Are you dying?" Howard asks.

"No."

"Having a stroke?"

"My neurological function is optimal. However, I've been calculating Stuart's impact on group dynamics over the past fourteen months, and the data requires acknowledgnt."

We're at apartnt 4A for ga night—alternating with my penthouse now per Sheldon's schedule. Everyone's here except lissa, who's having dinner with her parents (telling them about Seattle probably).

"Sheldon, just say it," Raj encourages.

He clears his throat formally. "Stuart, when you opened your comic book store, I calculated its failure probability at ninety-three percent. Small businesses have poor survival rates, and your initial ordering decisions seed—"

"Sheldon."

"—catastrophic. However, against statistical likelihood, you succeeded. Moreover, your success created positive externalities affecting our entire social group."

Leonard stage-whispers: "He's saying you did good and we're better for it."

"I can translate my own statents." Sheldon continues. "Your shop beca our gathering place. Your consulting work expanded into legitimate industry connections. Your investnt advice, while initially suspect, has proven financially beneficial. Most significantly, your presence elevated group cohesion and individual confidence levels."

He extends his hand.

"Therefore, I wish to express gratitude. Thank you for improving our collective situation through your statistically improbable achievents."

I shake his hand, throat tight.

"That's—Sheldon, that's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said."

"It's rely accurate data assessnt."

"Still."

Howard sets down his controller. "Okay, if Sheldon's doing feelings, I'm doing feelings. Stuart—you taught how to actually talk to won. Not creepy pickup shit, but genuine conversation. Bernadette exists because you made better."

"You did the work, Howard."

"After you showed how. That counts."

Raj's already tearing up. "You created space where I could be myself. The first place I talked to won without alcohol was your shop. Because you made it safe. Because you never judged."

"Raj—"

"Let finish! You're my spirit brother. You changed my life. I'm grateful every day."

He hugs before I can protest. Naturally, he cries.

Leonard's quiet, fiddling with his controller. Finally: "You gave consulting work when I was feeling worthless. Included in your business decisions. Treated my opinions like they mattered." He looks up. "But more than that—watching you succeed made want to succeed too. You inspired to stop settling."

"Leonard, you're a brilliant physicist—"

"Who was coasting. Playing it safe. You took risks, built sothing real, and now you're opening a second location. That's courage I didn't have. Still trying to find." He raises his beer. "So thank you. For being the friend who shows the rest of us what's possible."

The silence stretches.

These guys—my friends, my community, my found family—are sitting here thanking for improving their lives.

And they don't know any of it is built on supernatural cheating.

"You're all making this sound like I did sothing special," I say carefully. "I just—I opened a shop. Made so lucky guesses. Tried to be a decent friend."

"Statistically improbable lucky guesses," Sheldon corrects.

"Still luck."

"At what point does consistent luck beco skill?"

Never. It's always cheating. Just supernatural cheating you can't detect.

"You guys saved ," I deflect. "Fourteen months ago, I was failing at everything. Alone. Depressed. You showed up. Supported the shop. Made it yours. Turned a business into a community. I didn't do that alone."

"We helped," Leonard acknowledges. "But it was your vision. Your work."

"Our work. All of us." I grab my beer, raise it. "To the gang. For making my success actually an sothing."

"To the gang," they echo.

We drink. Sheldon returns to his index cards, probably has three more speeches prepared. Howard restarts Halo. Raj's still wiping tears.

Leonard catches my eye across the room.

He knows sothing's off. Can't identify what, but he knows.

The pattern's too perfect. The guesses too accurate. The transformation too complete.

Need to be more careful. Success is drawing attention. Sheldon's docunting patterns. Leonard's questioning. Can't give them more data.

"New rule," I announce. "No more emotional speeches. Sheldon exceeded his annual quota."

"I have data prepared for—"

"No, Sheldon."

"But the statistical analysis—"

"No."

He deflates slightly. "Fine. I'll save it for next year."

Later, walking ho from 4A, I think about what they said.

Improved their lives. Made them better. Inspired them.

All because I'm cheating reality with powers they can't detect.

The guilt never fully leaves. Just becos background noise. White noise of moral compromise.

But then I think about Howard, actually confident with Bernadette. Raj, talking to won without chemical courage. Leonard, taking risks on investnts and career. Sheldon, expanding his social tolerance.

They're all growing. Improving. Becoming better versions of themselves.

Maybe that's enough.

Maybe using stolen advantages to help people is better than keeping them locked away out of guilt.

Maybe being good with supernatural powers is enough.

My phone buzzes.

lissa: Parents didn't take Seattle news well. Can I co over?

: Always. I'm five minutes away.

She's waiting on my penthouse doorstep when I arrive. Red eyes, but not actively crying.

"They think I'm running away," she says.

"Are you?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know." She follows inside. "They asked about us. About you. If we're staying together."

"What'd you say?"

"That you're building an empire here. That I'm starting a career there. That sotis love isn't enough against three thousand miles."

We settle on the futon. She curls against .

"Two months," she says quietly.

"Two months."

"Make them count?"

"Already planning to."

She falls asleep there, exhausted from emotional conversations. I stay awake, holding her, thinking about gratitude and guilt and the difference between earned success and stolen advantages.

The gang thanked tonight.

For improving their lives with powers they don't know I have.

For being soone I'm not.

For building success on foundations they can't see.

And I accepted their gratitude knowing it's all based on lies.

That's the price of supernatural advantages.

Not the power itself.

But the isolation of keeping it secret.

The loneliness of being thanked for things you didn't really earn.

Success tastes sweet.

But it goes down easier when shared honestly.

And I can never be fully honest.