Show Me That I'm Better | Post Malone

XXXXIII

* Austin's POV *

His eyes shot open to the sound of his phone on the table.

Dre.

"What?" He sighed heavily as he answered, not even bothering to try and hide the frustration in his voice.

"That's a nice way to greet your best friend." Dre's loud English accent came through the line, Austin's eyes slamming closed at the sound.

"I was asleep... and you're not my best friend." He replied, his hand coming to rest over his eyes in anticipation of the headache he was sure the phone call would result in.

"I fucking should be, the amount of shit I do for your arse."

"What do you want Dre." He sat up on his couch, even more irritation tinting his voice.

"A few things, firstly, where the fuck is your new album?" He could hear different voices in the back ground, it sounded like Dre had called him to discuss business while he was at a party or at least had company over. He appreciated that he was Dre's biggest artist but fuck he hated being used as a fucking bragging right to potential clients.

"Working on it, what's next?" He still didn't have it in him to bother trying to sound enthused or even slightly interested in having this conversation.

"Secondly..." Dre's voice changed, he could hear him walking further from the back ground noises. "There's been some shit going around about you, about you being sick. Someone's come out claiming they've seen you on the oncology ward of LAC a couple of times."

His breath caught in his throat, time freezing for a minute as thoughts quickly started rushing through him as to what excuses he could use for being there.

"It hasn't been reported or anything, someone reached out to me for a comment but I shut it down, said you had been there because of your pneumonia. Is there something you need to tell me Post?"

Now was his chance, if he was going to tell him this was the time. His mind was replaying the past few visits to the hospital, wondering what he'd done, where they'd gone wrong and not been careful enough that they were spotted.

He only had a couple more treatments to go and he was done, in four weeks time this whole thing would be a distant fucking memory. He didn't want to discuss it, he didn't want the judgement or the tears or the 'you should have known better's that he knew would be thrown at him as if he were under attack. He also knew that even if he told Dre in complete confidence, it would be common fucking knowledge within minutes.

"There's nothing I need to tell you Dre." He lied through his teeth, trying to ignore the guilt that was starting to tug at his chest.

"Alright well then we got work to do. Next week we've gotta discuss getting you back out for the world to see, show em that Post Malone's fine and recovered from his cold." He could hear the back ground noises getting louder again, Dre obviously on his way back to the party he'd so kindly stepped away from. "I'm gonna get a few more shows booked for ya, the sooner you can get at least one fucking song finished that we can start promoting the better."

"Dre..." he tried to interrupt, not quite sure what reason he could use to get out of Dre's master plan.

"I also got a new girl that I'm signing, she's very interested in meeting you. I've given her your number. A few public appearances and whatever else you two get up to in public wouldn't hurt your image at the moment, would distract from this cancer bull shit. And Post, that's not a suggestion."

He wanted to be sick, he could feel the nausea climbing his body from his toes. His cheeks started tingling and burning. He needed to get out of this conversation, he needed all of it to stop.