#this can be also seen as platonic sydger riiight

[chucklepea-hotpot]

That fluffy Sydger kiss or When will I stop being so paranoid about my writing

Roger can’t remember any moment in his life where he needed this more than now. Sleep. His eyes are heavy, he can basically feel them sliding over his eyeballs by themselves. But still his brain is awake and the energic sound of the rain drops crashing aggressively against the windows is not gonna change it.

It’s just a thunderstorm, you can deal with this, he says to himself as he tightens his grip around his pillow. He had already tried several times to cover his ears with it. Unsuccessful, of course. Maybe it is just so loud in his own head, Syd seems to sleep like a log. Or at least that is what Roger thinks according to the quiet snoring he hears through the loud sounds of the rain.

And then he heard it.

A thunder growl.

Again, he closes his eyes and tries to focus on other things. Usually he would run into his mother’s bedroom at moments like this, cuddle next to her and she would caress his hair soothingly. Bad thing for Roger that his mother is out of reach. But goddamn, he’s 21, can’t he be able to fall asleep without his mother by his side? A loud thunder and the sound of the rain banging angry against the window is the answer to this question.

He doesn’t even really know why thunderstorms scare him so much. It just had always been like this. The loud crashing and growling… Immediately he would wanna roll together like a cat and burst into tears.

Another thunder, louder this time. Roger’s chest grows tighter, breathing seems to be impossible for him. Is this a panic attack? He has to do something.

Breathing would be a good idea for first. Yes, breathing. Carefully he takes one deep breath after another, every time he inhales his eyes go shut, every time he exhales he opens them. The heart racing is still there just less present, unlike the ache that fills his whole body. He grabs his legs, pulls them close to his torso and hides his head under the covers.

Please stop, he begs. He doesn’t even know to whom.

But it doesn’t stop and the next thing Roger can remember is a lighting filling the room, a bellowing thunder, deep and belling, like hundreds of cymbals being crashed together, and louder than the others before and much more scaring, that draws a bloodcurdling scream from him and then…

Roger feels the soft carpet underneath him. His breath is quicker now and he feels tears forming in his eyes. Suddenly, steps of bare feet touching the ground.

A thin silhouette appears in front of him, but in the darkness of the room and through Roger’s blurred sight it’s impossible to recognise. The deep but yet so soft voice that whispers through the is too familiar to Roger to be not recognised.

“Roger? Rog, you alright?”

It’s Syd. And as much as Roger loves Syd being with Syd, he wishes that he wouldn’t be here now. Now, while he’s rolled up on the carpet literally balling his eyes out and that just because A STUPID THUNDERSTORM. What must Syd think of him? How pathetic he looks? How childish and hilarious he’s being? Roger digs his tear streamed face in the fluffy carpet. Maybe if he doesn’t move Syd’ll think he’s still asleep and just fell out of bed…

Next to him he feels Syd going down on his knees and stroking Roger’s hair, accidentally touching his moist cheek. What is he gonna do? Roger thinks, waiting for a reaction. Is he gonna laugh? Or rant about him, tell him that he should pull himself together and just go back to sleep? Roger isn’t sure if he would do that. It seems pretty un-Syd-ish.

He feels Syd placing gently kisses on his face. First all over his forehead, then down his nose and over his cheeks. Where Syd’s lips touched his skin, Roger feels heat coming up. Roger remembers that Syd’s mother used to do exactly the same with her son whenever he came home.

Roger also remembers that he always wanted someone to do that to him.

It isn’t like his own mother never showed her sons any affection, but compared to Mrs. Barrett’s ways, Mrs. Waters are more passive. She is the kind of mother who would make a sleeping bag out of the blanket of her son’s when they were already asleep, the one who would prepare them their favourite snack when she noticed that they were feeling downcast.

Anyway, Roger always wanted to be kissed like that.

And now, Syd’s lips kissing along his jawline, his hands with the long fingers caressing his hair, it feels like being a child again. Syd’s arms around him are making the tight feeling in his chest go away, being replaces by a warmer one. And at the latest as Syd’s lips meet Roger’s by accident - it was by accident, was it? - and Roger can hear both or their hearts taking the same rhythm, he knows that he is safe.