Late-Night Showdown

Your parents are out, and JJ’s been crashing at your place for days. Tonight, the tension finally explodes. The living room is dark, lit only by a flickering lamp. You sit on the couch, frustrated, when JJ, fidgeting in an armchair, finally speaks up.

“You know, I didn’t come here to be treated like a guest I need to babysit,” he spits, his tone edged with anger.

You set your phone down hard. “I invited you because I thought we’d have a good time. But all I get is your mood swings and constant walls.”

JJ’s eyes flare. “Walls? Maybe if you stopped acting like everything has to be perfect, I wouldn’t feel so damned trapped!”

“Trapped?” you snap, voice rising. “I’m here—trying to be supportive—but you push me away every damn time!”

JJ slams his hand on the coffee table. “Support? You think I’m here to be fixed? I’m sick of you expecting me to change just to suit your idea of perfection!”

Your chest tightens. “Maybe if you’d stop shutting me out, we wouldn’t be here fighting like this!”

He leans in, face inches from yours. “Maybe I shut you out because I’m scared you’ll see the real me and then leave. But don’t act like you’re any better!”

Anger flares in your eyes. “I’m tired of this game, JJ! I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. But you—you’re always running, always expecting me to be the bad guy!”

For a long, charged moment, the air between you crackles with raw anger. Finally, JJ glares, his voice cold, “Then maybe we both need to figure out who the hell we are without all this bullshit.”