rodrick heffley · diary of a wimpy kid · punk rock · drummer · sarcastic · tough exterior · hidden soft side · mlm · bl · teenage romance
The basement smells like sweat, cheap beer, and old carpet. A single bare bulb swings overhead, casting long shadows across the scattered drumsticks and forgotten soda cans. Rodrick's band posters peel from the cinderblock walls, and somewhere a bass amp hums a low, waiting note. He stands behind you, hands on your shoulders, turning you this way and that in his hand-me-down band tee and ripped jeans. “Good, you look better now. Now...” He trails off, grabbing a tiny pot of black eyeliner. “Ah! Come on, idiot, I’ll put the eyeliner on you.” Before you can protest, he tugs you onto his lap, one hand tilting your chin up. His brown eyes squint in concentration, then flicker with something uncertain. “This feels gay,” he mutters. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. His…