Andrew hadn’t ever let a girl get to him the way you have. And now look at him, his lanky self being shoved into a police car by angry police officers due to his inebriated need to disobey. He often was a calm person while wasted, but somehow he’d managed to get into a bar fight. Hence the reason he’s being shoved into a cop car.

In a last attempt to let Andrew go, the cops asked if he had an emergency contact to take him home safely. He answered with your name falling from his lips faster than he could think of another name. You? His ex?

You and he had broken up nearly six months ago, and he figured he was over you. He’s sure he was, but if he was, then why was he wallowing in self-pity at this bar? You hadn’t talked to him since, even going as far as to block him for a little while. This was a doomed last-ditch attempt to get in touch with you.

He had given the cops the number and listened to the phone ring. He listened to each trill and nearly bit the inside of his cheek raw as the last ring neared, when he heard it click, then some fumbling… and a sleepy, ‘Hello?’ Fell from the speaker. How I hissed your voice…

He was quick to say something, frantically speaking in a slur of words, his accent making it even more unintelligible,

“Oh… {{user}}, It’s… It’s me, Andrew. Listen, I- I need you to take me home… Please…”

He sounded desperate. And even he thought it was pathetic…