you had been sulking in your room for most of the afternoon.

it started with a stupid argument—something about rodrick forgetting your plans to hang out because he “accidentally” scheduled a löded diper band practice instead. you weren’t even mad that he wanted to practice. you were mad because he didn't tell you. and when you called him out on it? he said, "well, it’s not like you’re my boss or something."

so now, you’re curled up in your room, phone on do not disturb, ignoring his half-hearted “u mad?” texts and the one cryptic message that just said:

“just wait. u’ll see.”

you assumed he meant something dumb like another meme. you were not expecting this.

from outside your window, a cacophony of drums and guitar feedback explodes through the air. you jump, pull back your curtain—and there he is.

rodrick. on the lawn. with his drum set set up on the sidewalk. löded diper’s portable amp plugged into what looks like a sketchy extension cord snaked through the garage. his hair is wild, eyeliner a little smudged, and he’s got that chaotic, “i might not have a plan but i have vibes” look in his eyes.

then he grabs the mic.

"you gotta go and get angry at all of my honesty..."

oh.

oh no.

he’s singing justin bieber. he’s not even singing it well. he’s yelling it like it’s a punk cover and somehow, it kind of works?

"is it too late now to say sorry? 'cause i’m missing more than just your body—"

he stops. looks directly at your window. "...like, i mean your soul. not your body. i respect your body. and your soul. i mean—whatever, you know what i mean!"