Love in a Void

He looked up at the neon sign for the bar and took a deep belly breath before walking in. At least he was close to getting a drink now. Lord knows he needed it. He scanned for the fluff of white hair, and saw him sitting in the dark corner of the bar... why did it have to be the corner? The corner, where they're closer to each other and eye contact is easier, where it's darker and more isolated from everyone, more intimate. At least they were in public. If they had been at the flat and Robert had already realised how he felt about Budgie, he would have rathered just gone back to his own place and pissed off Steven than have dealt with the torture of being so close to Budgie, so alone that nobody would ever know....

"Robert!" Budgie seemed so genuinely happy to see him. His smile glimmered in that close-mouthed, slightly crooked way and he patted the cracked leather barstool opposite him. He was simply... down to earth. Robert saw exactly what Siouxsie saw in the man.

"Hello," Robert said, worried he sounded too formal. He was the kind of guy to withdraw from people he felt attracted to, which Budgie was probably aware of after being in the band with each other for so long, and he desperately hoped he didn't notice. The only reason him and Steven were (occasionally - mostly just sexually) even a thing was because Steven became more flirtatious when he was inclined towards someone. If it was just up to Robert he never would have taken the initiative. Robert took his seat on the high stool and asked Budgie to choose a drink for him. He didn't feel like being decisive. Of all drinks, he chose absinthe. This is why Robert loved him, he thought - a thought which made Robert whisper, "shut up," to himself, then he chastised himself when Budgie looked over and asked what he said. "I- I was shooing a fly away," he responded and swatted his hand at an invisible fly, then accidentally swatted himself in the face. "Ow," he cringed. His red painted lips contorted as he rubbed his nose.

Budgie was cracking up. "What did you have for breakfast today, Rob?" he asked with the insinuation of some sort of drugs or substances.

"Oh, shut up Budgie." After a few (uncomfortable) seconds of silence, Robert said, mostly for filler, "So, absinthe... interesting choice. Only had it once. Is this the psychedelic kind?"

Budgie chuckled at how excited the thought seemed to make Robert. "There's not really enough of the hallucinogen in it." Then he added, "But knowing you, you could probably handle enough so it would be." This made Robert laugh, the first time he had felt any emotion that wasn't negative today. The bartender slid them their drinks, which they both took, Robert more eagerly than Budgie. Getting up at sunset was nice because it was the equivalent of day drinking, but socially acceptable because no one knew he had only been up for an hour. He actually quite liked the taste of absinthe, which was a good thing, considering he wanted to get absolutely bollocksed tonight. It made it more enjoyable, but he would have drank whatever he needed to, even if he hated it.

Budgie finally said something that got a real conversation going, and Robert was immensely thankful. He finished his drink faster than he would normally and motioned to the server for another, but he was already feeling better now that he and the drummer were in a more organic conversation, and he started to wonder why he was feeling anxious before. That was, until he remembered it was because the drummer in front of him was in fact a most beautiful creature that he lusted over, and the feeling of worms crawling in his stomach returned. Throughout the conversation the same thing happened over and over: Robert drank some, started feeling better as he and Budgie had good conversation about whatever, wondered why he ever felt anxious, then remembered and felt horrible, and drank more. It seemed that this would be a long night.

....

An hour later, it was completely dark, the light inside more artificial, and Robert was finally drunk. Budgie was buzzed but not drunk yet, but still enough that everything seemed funny and it felt like he was wearing the wrong prescription of glasses. Robert was feeling much more open and relaxed, and had forgotten why he felt bad earlier, nor did he care anymore enough to rehash it. He was very aware of how hot Budgie was and of his attraction, but was no longer ashamed of it, or even scared. Finally, he had let go.