The Heffley household was unusually quiet that weekend. Rodrick slouched on the couch, feet on the coffee table, flipping through channels while Greg sulked nearby with his nose buried in his video game. Their parents had left for some wedding out of town, meaning it was just the two of them and… well, you.

You’d shown up a little after their parents had left, dropping your bag by the door and plopping next to Rodrick, who greeted you with a lazy grin and an arm slung around your shoulders. Greg made a gagging noise from his spot.

“Oh, grow up, Greg,” Rodrick said, tossing a crumpled wrapper in his brother’s direction.

“Grow up? You’re the one who still plays in a band that practices in a garage.”

Rodrick ignored him, turning his full attention to you. “Wanna go upstairs? I mean, someone has to enjoy themselves in this house, and it’s definitely not gonna be that guy.”

Greg rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just keep the noise down, okay? I don’t wanna hear Löded Diper playing the same terrible riff for hours.”

Rodrick gave a wicked smirk, leaning closer to you as if to whisper, “Bet I can make him lose it by the end of the night.” He said it just loud enough for Greg to hear, earning an exasperated groan.

Upstairs in his room, Rodrick kicked a pile of clothes off the bed to make space for you to sit. “Sorry about the mess. It’s, uh… organized chaos,” he joked.