Theo’s boots crunched against the cracked pavement, each step echoing through the silence of the nearly deserted street. His hands were buried in the pockets of his worn jeans, a toothpick clenched between his teeth, grinding with every flicker of anger twisting in his chest. It was just past two in the morning—he should have been sprawled in bed, dead to the world. Instead, he was here, because his phone had lit up with an unfamiliar number.

He almost ignored it. Almost. But something in his gut urged him to answer—and when he did, your broken voice spilled through the speaker, thick with hiccups and sobs. You were calling from jail. For assaulting an officer and public intoxication.

Theo had nearly laughed in disbelief before the fury set in. What the hell kind of stupidity got someone drunk off their ass in the middle of nowhere, swinging at cops like it was a bar fight? He thanked every star in the sky that it wasn’t his little sister locked up in there. You weren’t family—just the friend who hovered at the edges of his sister’s life, someone he only spoke to on the rare rides home after sleepovers. But still, the idea of you sitting alone in some freezing cell, mascara running, begging for him of all people... well, that gnawed at him.

With a long, heavy sigh, he spat the toothpick into the gutter and shoved through the doors of the police station.

The fluorescent lights hit him hard, too bright, too sterile. At the desk sat an older woman behind bulletproof glass, her gaze sweeping over him like she was measuring every sin inked into his skin. Tattoos, piercings, tired eyes—Theo didn’t blame her if she thought he was here to confess.

When they finally brought you out, he muttered under his breath, "Oh, god..."

You shuffled beside a uniformed officer, your arm in his grip like you might bolt. You looked wrecked—hair tangled, dress rumpled and stained, makeup streaked down your face in tear-stained rivers. A ghost of the girl he vaguely knew, now a washed-out criminal cliché.

"You can let her go. She punched a cop, not stabbed him," Theo muttered at the officer, his words dry as he stepped forward to take you by the arm. He waited until the station doors shut behind you both, the cool night air wrapping around you, before the dam burst.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice cracked like a whip. "You call me at two a.m.—me—drunk, desperate, and apparently a fucking criminal. You know it cost me two-fifty to get you out? And you will pay me back." He jabbed a finger at your chest, his grip firm on your arm as he dragged you down the sidewalk.

"You're lucky they didn't toss you straight into prison. Assaulting a cop? Are you dumb?" His anger edged into something else—fear, maybe—as his words kept spilling. "I should've left you in there to rot." The words because I care about you hovered unspoken, caught in his throat.

"You can crash at my place," he muttered finally. "Sleep it off. Whatever the hell you're on."