Waiting On A Miracle | Post Malone

8

Mitch had left three hours ago, leaving Austin sitting alone on the large modular couch. He had been sitting, staring at his phone for the majority of those three hours.  Every time he had almost worked up the courage to tap her name, his guilt would come crashing down over him again like a tidal wave.

He had picked this couch. Kendra had been concerned it wouldn't work well in the room. She also told him continuously it was too comfortable and too hard to get out of once you had been sucked in. They had christened this couch almost daily since they had bought it.

He had thought of calling Brooke to distract himself until this obscene notion of interrupting her life again had disappeared. Each time his finger had hovered over her name though, he realised just how much he didn't want the idea to disappear again.

Fuck Mitch. This was his fucking fault.

He could live like this, being miserable without her, if it meant she was able to move on. He could accept forgoing his happiness if it meant she was able to find hers. For some unknown reason for the longest time he had been her happiness, just as she was his. The idea that he could still be that for her was something he didn't believe couldn't be possible but he also couldn't let go of.

Mitch had fucked that right up.

She had made it a rule with Austin very early into their relationship that they never googled each other. It was a lesson he had only had to learn once, the countless headlines and articles had wreaked such havoc on his mental state that even now he knew no good could come from it. That was the one rule that he had obeyed.

Fucking Mitch.

He could try calling her, she would see his name and then the ball would be in her court. If she really didn't want to speak to him, if she really had closed that door then she could just not answer. At least then he was giving her the option, it was her decision as to whether she left the door unlocked or if she'd well and truly dead bolted it.

Who the fuck was he kidding. He knew as well as anyone else that he was going to call her, that decision had been made almost three hours ago when he unblocked her number. He may have been successfully sober at the moment but this was the only time he could recall having any kind of self control.

There was no chance with her.

"Hello." Her voice was as smooth and sweet as honey as it came through his phone.

"Hey." His nerves suddenly hit him, regret washing over him like a tsunami. This was a mistake. They had parted on decent terms, she had been kind, and civil and so much more than he deserved. He should have ended it there and taken the win.

"Hi Austin, how are you?" Fuck he had almost forgotten how perfect his name sounded leaving her lips.

"I'm okay, how are you?" He tried to keep his voice steady, tried to hide the nerves from his tone.

"I'm good thank you. Is everything okay?" Her tone remained calm, there were no tinges of annoyance or frustration, she didn't exactly sound ecstatic but he was choosing to ignore that.

"Yeah, everything's okay. I um... I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. After seeing everyone and the funeral I mean..."

"Thank you, yeah I'm okay. I mean it was like a month ago now..." He rolled his eyes at her words. Fucking idiot, he really should have planned out some kind of conversation rather than just thinking he would be able to wing it.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to call sooner but I wasn't sure you'd wanna speak to me..." His words slipped out before he could catch them. He felt ridiculous, he sounded like he was trying to garner sympathy from her, like he hadn't been the one to create this rubble of a relationship.