Robert Smith imagines...?

2:1

You're nervous for your audition. You haven't been this nervous since high school band contests. Auditioning for The Cure, they're in need of a new percussionist, and you could fill the job, if you actually win him over.

Shivering, you walk into the apartment.

"Hello?" 

The room is silent and dreary. The desolate hum of a heater in the back of the room is the only thing giving it life.

Finally, a man runs into the room. It's Robert Smith. You'd never imagine having an audition to him like this, ever, but dreams do come true.. sometimes.

"Hello ma'am, my apologies for this awkward set up. You're Y/N, right? My name is Robert."

"Yeah.. I know. I love your works. Hopefully you like mine," you respond amid walking there.

Entering the studio you're surrounded by keyboards and guitars and other like instruments. Robert groans and sits down in a chair across the room.

"So love, how long have you been playing the drums? Can you play any other instruments other than drumset?"

"Yes actually! I know how to play the keyboard and xylophone too, if need be. Been playing drums since grade 6, and keyboard and xylo since grade 10." 

Dear God I hope he likes me.

He nods. "Okay, show me what you can do love."

You get onto the Ludwig drumkit, busting out in different drum styles, starting out bossa nova, ending with metal. You play a few samples of their hit songs of what you learned.

Robert looks over your playing in deep thought throughout the entire audition.

"Okay, that looks quite well. You are a great contenter. Talented musician."

"Yeah.. I've made great way around instruments, to say the least." You continue, looking him dead in the face. "...Mostly cylindrical objects."

Robert's face goes red immediately after you say that. 

"What??" You're mildly scared about that reaction, but you remain calm, with the slight tinge of playfulness.

He adjusts his collar looser. "Well, I... I don't know."

"Robert, you know."

"Please leave the flat. I'm done with this audition."

Robert sees you out of the flat and closes the door behind you.

I really fucked up didn't I?

Whatever.

Walking home you think over the entire audition, and how you completely messed up your one chance at being close to such a being, getting mad at yourself. You walk into your apartment and take a nap because you were so unhappy.

About 2 hours later, you wake up to the ring of the landline telephone going off, which you got up immediately to answer. You recognize the voice on the other end. 

"Hello? Is this Y/N?"

"Y- Yes?"

"My apologies, you sound like you just woke up. I just wanted to let you know that your audition was surveyed over, and I've determined that you're our next percussionist of the Cure. Welcome to the band, Y/N."

Your heart drops, and the room becomes eerily still. Your head becomes more fuzzy the longer you think about it.

"You're sure about that, Mr. Smith?"