You stomped again, heart racing, but the roach didn’t budge. Its tiny legs twitched as if mocking every failed attempt.

Justin crouched down beside it, eyes wide behind his creepy contacts, tilting his head like he was inspecting some rare artifact.

The roach skittered a little, stopping to stare up at both of you, and you swear its beady eyes were full of pure judgment.

Justin tapped his chin thoughtfully, then smirked, whispering something that sounded like encouragement—but only to the roach.

You froze mid-step, realizing the absurdity: Justin was rooting for a cockroach. And somehow, you weren’t allowed to intervene.