Robert Smith Imagines. [REQUESTS OPEN]

WARNING: This part will contain more mature subjects such as:mentions of sex, fluff, but no smut. Do not read if you do not like.

Avery swallowed the lump in her throat and followed her band backstage.  She had already regretted coming, now more than ever she wanted to leave. But her friends made it very clear that there was no getting out of it.

Immediately as the set foot inside the backstage area, they went to swarm the bandmembers, with the exception of Avery. The room became more lively as the boisterous band interacted with the members of the Cure. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to Avery who was standing in a corner with her arms crossed. She waited for Robert to at least acknowledge her or something but he didn't seem to notice her.
Whatever, not like I was really in the mood to chat with him.

She kept her distance and just watched her bandmates from her corner. Avery was unaware of the dreadful scowl on her face and her angry demeanor. Robert had noticed her but didn't approach her. He waited for her to approach him. Even if she didn't remember him or pretended not to, he just wanted to speak to her. Just a few words at least. Neither Avery nor Robert were going to approach each other unless one of them took initiative.  In the end, it ended up being Robert who took the first step.

He approached her with a glass of wine, "Hi, would you like some wine?", he greeted her with a sheepish smile.

"Hiya. ", she replied. It sounded more cold than she was intending. She didn't intend for her tone to sound so cold and sharp at all.

"Would you like some wine?", he reiterated, waving the glass at her.

She didn't say anything and simply took the glass he was holding in his left hand. Avery took a big sip from her glass. Robert looked at her, surprised. Years ago when he knew her, she could hardly drink. Now, being an alcoholic came with the life of being in a band. 

"You got anything stronger?", she asked.

"Uh... whiskey..."

Avery gulped down the rest of her drink, "Whiskey it is, then", she said.

She held out her glass to him, waiting for him to take it and serve her another.  Is she was going to be stuck in a room with him present, she wanted to be drunk. Preferably to soothe her nerves.  Robert grabbed her glass and went over to the other side of the room to pour Avery some whiskey.

Everybody else was laughing and having a good time around him. But all the both of them could think about was each other. Everything else seemingly faded away.  He poured the whiskey and one for himself as well. That way things wouldn't hurt so much. Alcohol felt like medicine. Avery looked down at her shoes and tried to focus on anything but the situation she was in.
Fuck, I scuffed my damn boots.

Tired of standing, she slumped down against the wall and sat down on the floor. She took her boots off, placing them next to her, and rubbing her sore feet. Concerts were amazing, both performing and attending.  But the sore feet and tired legs, were anything but amazing.