::01:28:08::

::: Time :::

“You know what’s funny?” he asked, twirling the cigarette between his fingers and admiring it with an almost bittersweet expression.
“I give up,” the other man replied, pushing off slightly on the heels of his hands to lie himself on his back under the moon.
“They always go... everyone goes. But you stay.” The last words floated from his lips in a whisper as he took another quick puff of the cigarette before joining the bassist on his back in the grass.

By now he was used to this; used to this kind of talk from Syd. He did nothing but glance over to him, regarding him with a soft smile. The moonlight cast its warm glow over the guitarist’s body, illuminating his silohuette in the dark field.
He didn’t bother to ask what he meant, and silenced the urge to reply by taking another deep breath of the nicotine. It took a few more moments of soothing silence before one of them spoke again.

“Roger?” He asked timidly, his voice barely audible now. A warm breeze combed through their hair and the bassist closed his eyes, absorbing the surrounding sensations.
“Hm?” The taller man pressed his body against the surface of the earth; wanting to feel every inch of it cradling him. His fingers wandered through the grass, grazing over the moisture that was starting to gather there.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m not going to go, Syd.”
“Good. Don’t fly like the rest.”
“I won’t.” Suddenly he felt the hairs on the back of his hand prick up as Syd’s frail fingers encircled his own. His eyes still closed, Roger wove his fingers between the guitarist’s, giving his hand a soft but reassuring squeeze.

After a long moment, the bassist opened his eyes; just enough to peer directly up at the sliver of moon that was still peeking out from behind the thick dark clouds. Lolling his head slowly to the side, he caught another glimpse of Syd’s glowing figure on the grass.
“I won’t leave.” he repeated, calmly stroking the back of Syd’s hand with the side of his thumb.
Just then, Syd slithered very fluidly up beside Roger and nestled his head into the crook of the bassist’s neck, their hands still intertwined. Roger turned his head slightly and pressed his nose into the mass of unruly curls, breathing in the scent of day-old smoke and faded peppermint.

Syd’s other arm reached up and slid around Roger’s hip, shakily hugging him closer. Before fading off to sleep, Syd whispered that he loved him. Roger protectively cradled the madcap’s shivering frame and took one last long drag from his cigarette. He sighed quietly and gazed out at the fading midnight. The bottom of the sky was now a deep vibrant purple.
It was almost morning.

Written by: ~ Lynsey Moon