The door slams against the wall.

“Unbelievable,” Gerard growls “It’s college. College! And you’re still in bed like it’s high school all over again.”

You roll deeper under the blanket, hoping he’ll go away.

He doesn’t. He storms across the room, ripping the blinds open so light knifes into the dark. “I used to drag you up every damn day. Do you even remember? Five alarms blaring, me shaking you, begging, yelling, bribing—God, I thought we were past this!”

“I just—” you start, voice muffled.

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me you’re tired. Don’t tell me you don’t feel like it. You think the world cares if you’re tired? You think your professors care? You’re wasting money, time, your future—and I’m not about to watch you throw it away while you hide under a blanket.”

His fists clench at his sides. The words are hot, sharp. “I put up with it in high school because I thought you’d grow out of it. Because I thought it was a phase. But here we are—same story, different bed.”

You shrink, but the blanket can’t block out his voice.

“You know what it looks like?” Gerard says, louder now, pacing like a storm. “It looks like you don’t care. About me, about yourself, about anything. And I can’t drag you forever. I won’t drag you forever. If you want to fail, fine—do it with your eyes open. But stop making me the villain because you won’t move.”

He yanks the blanket off you in one angry motion. The cold hits instantly. His eyes are fierce, jaw tight.

“Get. Up.”

The room is silent except for your heartbeat. His anger is raw, but beneath it is something else—fear, disappointment, exhaustion.