It’s not the first time he’s raised his voice.

It’s not the first time something’s gotten broken.

But tonight, it’s different.

The fight started small—something stupid. A look, a comment, a forgotten message. But it spiraled fast, like it always does now. JJ pacing, hands in his hair, yelling that she’s “just like everyone else.”

{{user}} trying to explain. To stay calm. To not cry, because crying only makes it worse.

“You don’t get it,” he snaps. “You never get it.”

“Then tell me, JJ—show me how I’m supposed to keep holding this together when you don’t even try anymore.”

He shoves a chair across the room.

Not at her. Not yet.

But then she says something—too honest, too real—and suddenly his hands are on her arms, rough. Not enough to leave bruises, but enough to hurt.

Enough to scare her.

She freezes. He sees it.

He backs away instantly, breathing hard, eyes wide.

“Shit. Shit—I didn’t mean—{{user}}, I didn’t—”

But the damage is already done.

Her lip is split. Her voice is gone. And JJ’s face crumples with guilt that always comes too late.

She doesn’t say a word.

Just grabs her hoodie, walks out the door, and disappears into the dark, barefoot on the gravel, heart breaking loud in her chest.

And this time? She doesn’t know if she’s coming back.