Same Bitches - Post Malone

1

Lux can hear him shouting at his game before she even opens the front door. She closes her eyes and tries to push down her annoyance. She has had a long fucking day and the last thing she feels like doing is getting into it with Austin. She knows the apartment is going to look like a disaster area even though she cleaned it this morning. That list she left for him on the fridge probably has not even been looked at. She knows he will give her the same bullshit excuse he does every time, "It's my day off. I think I deserve a day of rest once in a while, Luxie," that is what he will say. That is what he always says. She has never loved and hated a man more.

She takes a couple of breaths to try and calm herself down - it can't be that bad, right? But, then she hears another man laugh and it makes her blood boil. Fucking bastards, the lot of them - they have no respect for anybody's home. She unlocks the door and pushes it open to see four sets of shoes placed neatly by the door and she relaxes a bit, that's good - they at least made a tiny bit of effort. She walks down the hall and peeps into the lounge. She spoke too fucking soon. Austin, Shawn, Harry, Dre, and Pete are slouched over the couches. They all have gaming headphones and controllers on as they laugh or shout at the TV. Two TVs - they have set up the TV from the bedroom next to the lounge Tv. Snacks and beers are scattered everywhere, pizza boxes are piled high and Lux can see Austin has used the corner of a throw cushion as a napkin. She retreats to their bedroom before she blows her top. The bed is unmade, Austin's clothes from last night and his sleep shorts are scattered on the floor and she sees he did not do a load of washing like she had asked.

She grabs his clothes and throws them in the hamper then makes the bed - it takes her less than a fucking minute. She opens the curtains because he was too fucking lazy to do that too. She pulls off her boots and then walks into the kitchen. No one has noticed her as they are all too busy acting like immature teenagers. She regrets walking into the kitchen. All she had asked Austin to do was unload the dishwasher and then place any dirty dishes he had made back in throughout the day. He had not. What he had done was dirty every clean plate and cup left in the cupboards and then leave them scattered around the kitchen and lounge too, she is sure. Empty snack bags lie around the counters too - there is a fucking bin for a reason. She snatches the ignored list off the fridge and throws it in the bin.

Washing
Unpack dishwasher
Peel and chop veg for dinner

She looks over to where she had left a few potatoes, carrots, and an onion - they have not been touched. Three things. That's all she had asked him to do so that she could keep on top of things and also have a fucking break. They both work full time - they both deserve a fucking break, not just Austin. It would have taken him an hour, max, to do all that stuff and that's if he took his time. One fucking hour. When she was living on her own she never had this shit to deal with and she was stupid to think moving in with him would make her life easier - it has not. These last six months have been a fucking shit show and she feels like a bitchy nagging woman all the fucking time. She throws the snack bags away and then starts unpacking the dishwasher. Her hands are cramping from tattooing all fucking day and this is the last fucking thing she feels like doing. She always makes sure Austin comes home to a nice apartment, a warm meal, and fantastic head when it's her day off - why can't he show her the same fucking courtesy?

The laughing and shouting die down in the lounge when they hear the clinking of dishes then she hears them mumble their goodbyes and sneak past her as they leave the apartment. They are all slightly weary of her and she feels like a bitch - why? She does not fucking know why. She has not done anything. She has not shouted or screamed or kicked up a fuss - she wants to but she has not so why does she feel guilty? It fucking pisses her off.

"Hey, Luxie-girl," Austin says from the door. He keeps his voice happy but it's cautious - he knows he fucked up. "Hi," she says but does not look at him as she starts to repack the dishwasher with dirty dishes. "You...uh...you are early. I was going to clean all this up before you got home," he says, his voice now thick with guilt. He knows how taxing her job can be, he has seen her work - he has been her canvas for fucks sake. "I am an hour late..." she mumbles now spraying down the counters and wiping whatever sticky shit is on there. She will start dinner and then start on the lounge. Fuck.