The hard part about living with someone is that they’re just there the whole time, even during your worst moments. While you moult, while you pupate, while you digest your food externally.
When you lived alone, if you felt anxious or depressed or had an infected tubule or something, you’d stay inside and no one ever knew how terrible you really were or how infected that tubule really was. Even you didn’t know how terrible you were, because no one was around to be terrible to, or to bump into your swollen tubules.
But now you know, and it’s pretty gross.
Maybe the difference between monsters who live alone and monsters who live together is that monsters who live together know they are monsters.