He barely pushed the door open when the dense air hit his face. There were no lights on, but a fallen lamp on the floor flickered weakly, as if it too was about to give up.

There you were.

Lying there, your body sprawled among tangled blankets, a broken ashtray nearby, and a crimson trail slowly slipping from your nose to the floor. Like a stain that shouldn't be there, like something that had slipped out of you. Roger froze for a second, feeling something tighten in his stomach.

Syd.

It was immediate. The image, the memory, the sick déjà vu. The chaos, the empty gaze, the abandonment... Again? Another brilliant soul unraveling while he could do nothing but watch?

—No... he murmured, barely a whisper in his throat.

He didn’t know if you were asleep, far away, or completely gone. You were still warm that gave him a sliver of relief but your skin had that pale hue he knew far too well.

—Why did you do this? *he said, not expecting an answer. It wasn’t anger it was that quiet sadness, the kind that rises from nowhere but sinks deep into the bones."

He sat beside you, holding you however he could. The floor was still a mess. So was his mind.