Watercolour Eyes

SANITY TOGETHER

FEBRUARY 1ST 1979

The flat where Sid was staying in London was a dismal reflection of his current state. The once vibrant energy of the punk icon had dwindled into a hollow shell, the walls of the room closing in like the creeping darkness of his addiction. The smell of stale smoke and unwashed clothes hung heavily in the air, mingling with the faint, sickly-sweet scent of heroin.

Tiffany stood at the door, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly. The door creaked open, revealing Sid's gaunt figure. His eyes were sunken, and his clothes hung loosely on his frail frame. Despite his condition, a flicker of recognition crossed his face when he saw Tiffany.

"Tiff," he mumbled, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Didn't expect to see you."

Tiffany stepped inside, her heart aching at the sight of him. He'd become like a brother to her and honestly she'd missed seeing him. "Hey, Sid. Thought I'd come by and see how you're holding up."

Sid shrugged, shuffling back into the dimly lit living room. He collapsed onto the couch, which was covered in crumpled clothes and old newspapers. Tiffany followed, her eyes scanning the room with a mixture of sadness and determination. "it's not much." Sid stated "But it's all i've got at the moment" 

"Mind if I tidy up a bit?" she asked, not waiting for a response. She began picking up the clutter, stacking the newspapers and folding the clothes. Sid watched her with a distant expression, his fingers twitching slightly.

"You don't have to do that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to," Tiffany replied softly. She moved with a quiet efficiency, her actions deliberate and calm, trying to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. After a few minutes of picking up old clothes and discarded beer cans along with a few heroin needles which had been used one two many times, she sat down beside him, her hand gently resting on his.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice full of genuine concern. Sid looked away, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. "Not great," he admitted. "It's... it's hard, you know?"

Tiffany nodded, squeezing his hand. "I know. But you're strong, Sid. You've been through so much already. It'd be a shame to give up now...don't you think?" She tried to encourage him, that just maybe he had more to live for and he'd be okay. And from her the words sounded almost believable 

Sid's lips quivered, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "I miss her, Tiff. I miss Vanity so much."

Tiffany's heart broke at the raw pain in his voice. She reached out, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "I miss her too," she whispered, her own tears falling silently. "She was such a beautiful person."

They sat like that for a while, the silence filled with shared grief. Tiffany knew she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth about Mickey, not now, not when he was so fragile. Instead, she focused on being there for him, offering the comfort and support he so desperately needed.

"I brought you something," she said after a while, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a small, framed photograph of Vanity, taken during happier times, she was smiling and it was a lovely hot summers day. She wasn't alone in the photo as Sid was also there, he was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders as he kissed her temple with a smirk on his face.  "I thought you might like to have this."

Sid took the photo with trembling hands, a small, bittersweet smile forming on his lips as he looked at it. "Thank you," he murmured. "It means a lot."

Tiffany nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Take care of yourself, Sid. Promise me you'll try."