Show Me That I'm Better | Post Malone

XI

*Austin's POV*

Austin had been dreading today. His alarm had woken him from a rough, three hours sleep, if that. He had been dreading today for the past twenty days.

He grabbed his phone to turn off his alarm before slowly dragged himself from his mattress and making his way to his shower. He took his time in the hot water, letting it sooth his tense muscles as it washed over his body.

He hadn't heard from her for a few days, everything had been different between them since their phone conversation. Their messages had changed, hers had come through a lot shorter and his responses had dropped to only a couple of words, if that.

He knew she was home again, the times of her messages had changed, plus as much as he didn't want to, he had been keeping track. He thought about going to speak to her, to try and apologise and explain why their conversation had gone the way it had. But he honestly didn't know what to say to her, he still wasn't sure why those questions had come out the way they had.

He hadn't spoken to Mischa either, hadn't seen her since that night. Part of him had thought about reaching out to her to apologise but he wasn't entirely sure if he owed her one. They weren't together, there was no relationship there, they both knew what this was. He had been careful this time not to hurt her, not physically at least, and she was a more than willing participant.

He had spent longer overthinking and avoiding in the shower than he had meant to, quickly rushing to get dried and dressed before making his way downstairs. He grabbed his phone and wallet and keys and made his way to the front door. He was meant to be there in 45 minutes, he knew the travel would take him between 30 and 40 minutes, then he had to find parking and he really wanted a fucking coffee.

He opened the door in a rush, barely looking before stepping over the thresh-hold, when he saw her. She was standing there, two coffee cups in hand, just as she had done three weeks ago. Only this time she was wearing his singlet.

He was trying to figure out if she was real or he had just been so desperate to see her that he was imagining her. The confusion must have been as evident on his face as her nerves were on hers.

"Three weeks right" she said softly, her right arm reaching one of the takeaway cups towards him in silent offering.

His mouth opened to respond, but once again she had stolen every word from his vocabulary.  She quickly turned, making her way towards her car, opening the passenger door and glancing back at him as she waited for him to follow. It took a minute for the message to connect before his feet finally started moving. He closed the door behind him and took the few large paces to her car. He tried to meet her eyes, to silently thank her for being here, not yet trusting his voice. He could see her try and keep her eyes firmly planted on her coffee cup for as long as possible before finally giving in and meeting his gaze. She looked different today, something about her eyes, maybe the jet lag had hit her.

They drove in silence, flipping repeatedly between comfortable and awkward. He had several things he wanted to say but his mind was so transfixed on his impending treatment that he didn't trust himself to get any of it right. So instead, he sat silently watching the traffic through the window and sneaking the occasional glance over towards her when he felt brave enough.

"How are you feeling?" Her words snapped him out of his train of self pity. "About the treatment, are you nervous?"

"Um... no not nervous... well not for the treatment I guess." He took a sip of his coffee, he usually took it black and unsweetened, but this had cream and sugar and he thought this might be the only way he would take it from now on.