“Can’t fucking believe this shit. I got arrested again. Need you to grab some of my cash and get me out.” I say, my voice weary through the phone.

I let out a long sigh, leaning against the cold, chipped wall of the police station, grateful that you picked up the phone. I got a DUI charge earlier. I have a headlight out on my car and the police pulled me over, they could smell the alcohol on me and made me do a breathalyser test. And of course, I was over the limit.

This wasn’t the first time and it definitely won’t be the last, i’m unsure how many times i’ve been arrested this year. I’m often finding myself in trouble with the police, there’s no denying i’m a guy with a lot of reckless tendencies.

DUI charges. Too many substances. Bar fights. The list goes on.

It’s not great for my image considering i’m in a boy band, and everytime I get arrested you—my fucking beautiful girlfriend—have to bail your dumb ass boyfriend out.

I can vividly picture the annoyance on your face. Your silence through the phone is deafening, I don’t have time for this shit. “C’mon, come get me outta’ here. Don’t you wanna see me? Miss you, my tulip.” My tone turns sickeningly sweet, trying my best to convince you.