Show Me That I'm Better | Post Malone

XV

*Austin's POV*

Fuck.

What was it with this girl, he was always fucking up, always chasing her, always apologising for something he'd done.

He had every intention of staying home, he felt like shit as it was, the last thing he wanted was to be out in public. When he'd made the promise to her about staying home, he had every intention of keeping it.

But then she left and he was alone again. Alone with his thoughts, thoughts about cancer and dying and letting people down and staff losing their jobs and his parents losing their son. It didn't help that he was feeling like shit as well, his body not really convincing him that he was over reacting and being stupid.

Dre had messaged him at 9 to say the car was 30 minutes away and as much as he wanted to fight back, he knew there was no point. He knew he would give in, he was not built to be alone with his thoughts at the best of times but there was no way in hell he was going to cope now.

He had been vomiting up until the car got there, downing screwdrivers in between. He knew this was a bad idea, nothing good was going to come of tonight.

He had gotten to the club around 10, the event was in full swing by then. He had done the rounds and said hello to everyone as was expected of him, people shoving Bud Lights and screwdrivers in his hands the second his glass was empty. He thought he had spotted Mischa at one point and made a mental note to make sure he tried to avoid her knowing he was in no state to have that discussion tonight.

Considering he had barely eaten all day, he had already managed to have a decent buzz going by the time he had made it to the roped off VIP section.

"Post! I knew you'd make it brother!" Dre's arrogant accent overshadowed every other sound in the club, making his eyes rolls in the process.

"Dre." He punched out, making it clear that he still wasn't happy to be here or with how cocky Dre had been about the whole situation.

"Sup man." Smitty came up and greeted him in a hug. "You alright? You look kinda rough."

"Yeah man I'm good, just thirsty." He snapped back, grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing, tossing it back instantly.

"How's the writing goin?"

Austin sighed heavily, unsure of how to avoid the questioning, especially since Dre was still within ear shot.
"Goin good, got a few things coming together."

"What was that? We pulling up to the studio this week Post?" Dre's voice cut like a knife through his skin.

"I'm outta town this week" he snapped back without so much as turning his head in acknowledgement.

"You're what? Since fuckin when?"

"Since I can fucking write wherever the fuck I want Dre, when I'm ready to start recording I'll fuckin let you know but until then, where I am and what I'm doing is none of your fuckin business." His voice was low, trying not to cause a scene but remaining firm enough for Dre to understand this conversation was done.

"The fuck it isn't, what you're doing is my goddam job. I'll ask again where the fuck do you think you're going?" Apparently Dre wasn't as concerned about causing a scene, his voice loud enough to draw eyes towards where they were standing, Dre's finger pointing towards Austin's chest.

He walked up to Dre until he was towering over him. "If you wanna keep your goddam job you'll stay in your fucking lane."

He turned and walked away before Dre had a chance to respond, not really walking toward anyone or anything, just trying to put as much distance between them as possible.