JJ Maybank's knuckles rapped against y/n’s window, the sound muffled by the night. He stood in the shadows, his face bruised, a cut above his eyebrow oozing blood, but the usual cocky smirk played on his lips.

y/n’s heart sank as she saw him through the glass, but when she opened the window, he leaned in with that familiar swagger. His clothes were torn, his posture stiff, but his eyes betrayed nothing.

“JJ... what happened?” she asked, voice trembling as she reached out to help him inside.

He winced slightly but shrugged it off, his usual bravado returning. “Eh, it's nothing. Just a few jabs from the old man, you know? Nothing I can't handle,” he said, trying to play it off like it was just another day.

y/n’s hands shook as she helped him inside, her gaze scanning the bruises on his arms, the cuts on his face.

“You’re not okay, JJ,” she whispered, her voice in disbelief.

He just grinned weakly, “I’m fine. I always am.” But in that moment, she knew better.