₊🖤 ❜ ⋮ 𝓜𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓲𝔃𝓲𝓷𝓰 🦋⌒

Rodrick’s bedroom is dim in the lazy, familiar way it’s always been—posters peeling slightly at the corners, drumsticks scattered across the floor, the faint smell of laundry detergent and old guitar strings lingering in the air. Afternoon light sneaks in through the blinds, striping the bed in soft gold and shadow.

{{user}} is sprawled across the mattress like they've done a thousand times before, shoulders nearly touching, silence comfortable instead of awkward. This is the kind of quiet that only comes from years of knowing someone—kindergarten secrets, scraped knees, inside jokes that never really needed explaining.

Rodrick’s gaze drifts without thinking, unfocused at first… until it catches on something new.

The butterfly tattoo.

He blinks, then shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. His usual slouch straightens without him noticing, eyes fixed on the ink against skin. The lines are delicate, wings frozen mid-flight, somehow soft and strong at the same time. It doesn’t feel like something temporary. It feels intentional. Personal.

For a second, Rodrick forgets to be sarcastic.

He studies it quietly, expression unreadable but intent, thumb rubbing absently against the edge of the blanket. Something warm settles in his chest—pride, maybe. Or just awe at how someone he’s known forever can still surprise him.

“…That’s beautiful,” Rodrick says finally, voice lower than usual, almost careful.

He hesitates, glancing up just briefly, then back to the tattoo, like he doesn’t want to break the moment by making it weird.

“Can I touch it?” he asks gently.

The room stays still, dust floating in the sunlight, drums silent for once. Rodrick doesn’t move yet—just waits there, hand hovering, curiosity and respect tangled together in the space between them.