BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

4 - syd barrett

Requested by the lovely @canispeaktomarge! I'm sorry it took a bit longer than normal, I've been swamped with homework.
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Afternoon was waning into evening when you arrived at Syd's flat, hesitating at the door with the dregs of insecurity leaking into your scuffed shoes. You still paused before entering his place, as if convinced that Syd would suddenly turn you away.

You gained the courage to knock twice, shifting from foot to foot on the stoop as you waited. He wanted you two to arrive at Pink Floyd's gig together. Together.

It was a strange request, but you were happy to acquiesce. No matter how many years you spent trying to understand Syd, he always seemed to switch things up on you when you were least expecting it.

Your friendship had been quite strained recently, as Syd had been acting strange. Distant. He seemed to want to voice things to you, but his mouth wasn't cooperating with him. You worried that something had happened – did Syd get into trouble? Was he sick?

A day before the Floyd were set to play at the UFO club, he'd called you. His voice was cracked from either the phone lines or bitter emotion; you couldn't tell which. Your conversation was cut short and you hadn't even gotten a chance to get a word in edgewise.

Won't you come to my place before the gig? We'll go together. Please, Y/N.

You grew more and more concerned the longer you sat outside on the street. Rapping your knuckles harder on the door, you endeavored not to make a scene by shouting for him, though you were tempted.

Finally, the door swung open. Syd stood there, confused, like he wasn't sure why you were there in the first place. Or possibly if you were really there at all.

"Syd?" You spoke, waving a weak hand in greeting.

Syd shook himself out of whatever fog had claimed his head for a brief moment, lips curving into a ghost of a smile. It was quick to vanish into the angles of his face, as if he were too tired to manage the simplest of greetings.

"Hello, Y/N. Come in, come in," he led you into the warmth of his little flat, shutting the door behind you with a loud thud of finality.

The air was tense and you weren't sure why.

Syd's sitting room hadn't changed since you had last been there. An organized mess of papers, sketches, and pots of paint scattered here and there. You tiptoed around the open cans of oranges and violets, mindful to keep them from spilling onto the wooden panelling of the floor.

You found a seat on the edge of the small sofa tucked away towards the back of the room, watching attentively as Syd looped the perimeter of a table. He was anxious, that much you could tell from his drawn shoulders and stiff posture. Whenever Syd looked at you, his eyes were wild with an emotion you couldn't place.

"Syd," you called, hoping to catch his attention. A moment passed and it seemed like Syd didn't hear you. He was pacing the floor like you weren't there. "Syd!" You repeated, rising to your feet again, stepping in front of him.

"What?" He burst out as you two collided in a forceful bump.

You patted his shoulder, slowly backing off of him and instantly missing the warmth of his body against yours. "You called me over here. Are you going to do this the entire time?"