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Their hands were placed in front of them, each heel to each jean covered knee.
“What are you thinking about, Syd?” David spoke, carefully dancing around the gentle words he truly wanted to speak. The man lifted his gaze from their callouses and watched full lashes flutter and shake until wide; like the black holes he’d read of, consuming all rays of light in its dark, prisming sphere until no more than colossal energy burst had engulfed all of which was in its proximity, shielding it in a constant darkness.
Was that the answer to his own question? That all of which was in that complicated, genius mind was an all-consuming darkness, lingering at times, and in worse cases eating away at his psyche.
His thoughts were cut short as the beautiful boy answered. It surprised him, he hadn’t expected Syd to be in a talking mood during the quiet, lonesome moments they shared.
“I can’t think, David. It’s eating at me, I fear much more than I did not long ago.”
A pang of something close to helplessness engulfed the heart of the spoken man, but he did not- could not let it show on his features. And so, he schooled them, compressing them enough to fit into the box he usually stored those feelings in when it came to Syd, and let a small but ever-trying-to-be reassuring smile graze his lips, gaze still on the man with the wild tresses.
“What, Syd? What is torturing you? You should know you can tell me… I can’t stand seeing you in this state…” He said, knowing his word were all in vain, an intimacy he knows he should not offer a man he should see as something close to a brother, a friend.
Syd wouldn’t answer now, David could see how his eyes glazed over, foggy and incoherent, like those riffs he practiced, trying with all his might to get right, for Pink, for Syd. His dominant hand slowly left Syd’s, raising with the slowness of someone terrified of messing up, terrified of setting something off. His hand was cupped, like one might do whilst attempting to preserve the fleeting memory of sand in their hands, most of it, if not all slipping through the cracks of one’s fingers, left to rejoin the vast sea of past once more. He placed said hand against the back of the opposite man’s curly head of hair, not pushing, simply letting himself be know.
David breathed out a sigh of relief, a breath he had no knowledge of holding in being wrung from his lungs as soon as he felt Syd relax into him, letting his neck arch and his forehead rest on David’s shoulder, the ends of his soft, near-straight, locks tickling the boy’s nose, and yet he made no sign of moving, contrary to that he raised his own hand, much more careless when he grabbed David’s hand once more, intertwining their fingers, grounded.
He pressed his guitar-calloused fingertips into the other man’s knuckles, tighter than before, and David couldn’t help but to let his mind slip, focusing on the softness of the nimble hands in his; how, despite his callouses he still felt nicer than anything that he’d ever held before.
The side of his face, shrouded in shadow, turned to Syd’s, his eyes closing as he let his body relax fully into this single moment of quiet, cheek placed to the top of the boy’s curly head. Syd’s face was shadowed by his, not that he minded it, he never did, he embraced it.
He let his lashes flutter closed, lips parting as if to sing a song lacking words, fingertips drumming at the back of David’s hands.
The beat felt familiar, he swore he’d heard it played by Syd during their sessions. But no, soon enough he realized, as he became more aware of his own state of mind, that it had been his heartbeat the whole time, playing on repeat in that complicated mind of his. David could feel his cheeks heat up a touch, but he didn’t let it bother him, so instead he did nothing. Nothing except for letting it happen, of course.
-
In the doorway stood Roger, having just come back from an errand, nothing of importance, truly. The pair hadn’t noticed him yet, something that was better kept that way considering Syd barely got any time to spend outside of his mind, a little while in David’s wouldn’t do him any wrong.
No emotion grazed Rogers features as he watched them, breathing in each other’s presence. On the inside, on the contrary, he was close to bursting. He didn’t know why, had no clue or reason actually, except for a feeling of longing. Longing to replace David’s body with his own, be the one to bring Syd comfort and care, and yet his body forbade him from moving… all he could do was to stand and stare, fists opening and closing mindlessly, fingertips tingling with the need to feel what David was feeling in that moment, see the darkness that had fallen over the man he swore he was so close to.
Only after a few moments did he snap out of it, realizing how utterly pathetic it was for a man of his stature to wish for such things, to wish for the comfort of another man.
How desperate.
Roger turned, not quite understanding why but making sure he made no sound whilst he left, perhaps to give Syd the quiet his mind sought for…
But just as he turned around to leave, walking through the threshold that seemed to bring him lightyears away from his bandmates, circling in on the nothingness before him a voice shook him back to earth, 384400 kilometres and one couch ledge closer than he’d been just a second before.
“Yes, Syd?” Roger’s voice was eager, if anything, his position quickly crouching at the side of the two men, on the floor, yet his gaze was fixed solely on one of them. “What did you want?” he asked the question like a mantra, the thought circling in his mind, desperate for an answer. When his heart calmed down and his head cooled after having been tangled in the thoughts of his bandmate, he noticed he wasn’t quite speaking to him… more so through him. Syd hadn’t moved from his position, leant up against David, and David hadn’t even noticed Roger walking into the room until Syd had called for him, his back having faced the brown-haired vixen by the threshold.
Syd did not speak again now that he knew he’d garnered the bassists attention, instead, he separated the fingers of one of his and David’s hands, blindly guiding it towards Roger -he knew the distance between them, could hear how far away the soft voice had been mere moments ago, make up how the lanky body had leaned forward as soon as he crouched next to the couch.
Syd let his hand just barely graze, or perhaps grace? Roger’s cheek, feeling how his skin would heat up in the palm of his hand, become pliant and soft. The hand used his body as a lead, a stick for blindmen, and quickly found the large, warm and undeniably clammy hand he’d been searching for, intertwining their fingers.
“Now, you.” Syd spoke, and yet it was undeniably spoken to David this time, that thought made Roger’s chest ache with forlorn, having to actively keep his features from twisting into a scowl. How come he hadn’t spoken to him yet? How come those soft lips hadn’t commanded him to please?
David tensed for a span of two seconds before forcing himself into a calm, wanting not to keep Syd waiting. He opened his eyes, looking down at the man with the curly forehead and squeezed his hand for a few seconds before raising his free hand, unsure of what to do with it now.
It felt so foreign without something to occupy it, his Stratocaster, or Syd’s hands. He ignored it, for now, something else would occupy it soon, anyways.
His gaze would swing between focus and haze for a few seconds until he finally let it meet Roger’s, jaw clenching. He held out his hand, palm up like one might do when the action is optional, voluntary, and yet the trio all knew it wasn’t, not when Syd was the one asking for it, so Roger did as he’d been indirectly told and placed his hand in David’s, hissing ever so slightly through his teeth.
David didn’t know if he enjoyed the proximity to the bassist. His own hands were warm but smooth, Rogers were large, clammy, perhaps even bulky, in his eyes. Syd did not seem to mind, though, and so he ignored it in favour of focusing on Syd instead, placing the side of his head back towards the top of the poets’ head, sighing out a breath.
Minutes ago, the lamp at their side had cast a shadow across one half of his face, now, Rogers tall yet broad frame obscured the little light that reached him, leaving all of it shrouded, the man himself was placed with his back to the light, gazing upon the intimate pair with a dark, shadowed complexion, and yet his eyes held that of an even sharper haze.
Roger couldn’t help it, he felt like he was being pushed away, and so he disturbed the peace by attempting to place himself on the couch ledge alongside his bandmates, letting go of a long breath as he craned his tall neck, burying his fleshy nose against Syd’s cheek, and in that, his head was place in the crook of David’s neck.
He couldn’t force himself to pretend to be dissatisfied by David’s presence, even if he preferred to be alone with Syd, the feeling of Davids soft waves against his skin was undeniably nice, but it was not like he’d voice those thoughts aloud.
He smiled, one of those toothy, almost manic smiles he could give were the corners of his lips curled and all his teeth showed, eyes squinty and sharp. He looked at Syd, smile faltering at the sight of his closed eyes before he quickly hid his irritability, though his lips did purse in slight annoyance, he could never act truly unaffected when it came to him.
“Syd. Won’t you look at me?” He murmured quietly, squeezing the hand he was linked to, a bit tighter than necessary.
Syd didn’t answer, he was lost in his own world right now, far away from Roger and David. That only annoyed Roger further, not being able to get an answer from his dearest friend, all the while he’d speak with David so clearly just a few minutes ago.
“You don’t have to answer me, Syd. Just know I’m also here for you… you know that, right?” he hummed, letting go of the man’s hand and raising his own, dragging his calloused knuckles over his soft cheek, a crude attempt at closure.
Roger huffed, letting go of David’s hand now too and standing up.
“I’ll be in my room.” He said coolly, flashing his teeth in what could only be described as a near threatening sneer, concealing itself in the guise of a smile. He then turned, waltzing out with heavy steps, hands shoved in his pockets.
David shot his back a glare as he left, picking up Syd’s hand in his own, lacing together their fingers once more and closing his eyes, sighing.
“Don’t mind him, Syd.”