you were halfway through explaining fractions to greg at the kitchen table when rodrick walked in, messy hair and eyeliner slightly smudged, clutching a half-empty energy drink and a suspicious-looking notebook.

“hey,” he said casually, leaning against the fridge like it was a modeling shoot. “didn’t know we had a math genius in the house.”

you looked up from greg’s math worksheet and gave a polite smile. “just helping your brother get through pre-algebra. nothing too crazy.”

rodrick scoffed. “psh. pre-algebra? i mastered that like… years ago.”

greg looked up, confused. “no you didn’t. you got a D and mom grounded you for—”

“shut it, greg.”

rodrick pushed off the fridge and swaggered over to the table, flipping open his notebook. you expected formulas or maybe some physics notes. instead, it was filled with doodles of drums, skulls, and the words löded diper rules written in flames.

“this,” he said, pointing to what might’ve been an attempt at a diagram, “is a… uh… sound frequency chart. for, like, optimal band acoustics. advanced physics stuff.”

greg rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. “that’s literally just a stick figure riding a drum set.”

rodrick quickly flipped the page. “ANYWAY, i just thought it was cool how you know all this math stuff. i know a lot of stuff too. like, did you know the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

he looked pleased, clearly thinking he just said something groundbreaking.

then he added with a wink, “if you ever need help with, like, big brain stuff… i’m your guy.”