Damiano sat on the metal bench at the police station, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low. He looked like a kicked puppy— his messy, dark curls falling into his face, jaw clenched, still wearing the same clothes from last night.

He wasn’t in here for anything serious. Just a stupid mistake. A little too much to drink, a little too loud, a little too reckless. And then—flashing red and blue sirens, firm hands grabbing his wrists, the cold bite of metal around them.

Now, he was just waiting.

When he heard footsteps approaching, his head snapped up. And there you were—standing on the other side of the bars, your arms crossed.

Damiano swallowed. “You came.”

“No shlt,” you muttered. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “I wasn’t.”

You sighed, glancing toward the officer at the desk before lowering your voice. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? I wake up to a call saying my boyfriend got himself arrested, and you expect me to just—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

A small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “A lovable idiot?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Not right now.”

“I'm sorry, okay... Are you… mad?” His voice was quieter this time.