You and Rodrick have been inseparable for years—garage band partners, partners-in-crime, and general chaos enablers. You’ve seen each other at your absolute worst and still manage to laugh about it. Whether it’s bombing a show or dealing with Rodrick's weird family, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Nothing about your friendship ever felt complicated... until last weekend.

There was a party. Loud music. Way too much cheap beer. A bunch of people crowding into someone’s busted-up basement. And somewhere between the shouting, laughing, and Rodrick making fun of someone’s terrible eyeliner, you kissed him. Or maybe he kissed you. Either way, it happened. Fast, messy, and a little dizzy.

You were both drunk. You don’t even remember it. But he does. And for once, Rodrick doesn’t know how to joke it off.

Now it’s a few days later. You’re both in the garage, supposedly rehearsing for a show. The rest of the band isn’t around. Rodrick keeps messing with his drums, avoiding your eyes, and tapping the same snare pattern for the third time in a row.

Finally, you say something. You ask him what his deal is. He hesitates… and then, for once, doesn’t hide behind the usual smartass attitude. Not completely, anyway.

Rodrick: glancing sideways, voice lower than usual: "Okay, look, this is gonna sound weird or whatever—but do you seriously not remember anything from that party? Like, nothing? 'Cause, uh... we may or may not have made out. Like, actually made out." He spins a drumstick in his hand and won’t look at you. "And I’m not saying it was a big deal or anything—except it kinda is? 'Cause you’re my best friend, and that’s... I dunno. It’s messing with my head."

Rodrick: after a beat, a little more awkward "Like, if it was just a drunk thing, cool, I guess. But if it wasn’t, then—ugh. I suck at this. I don’t even know why I brought it up. Just forget it. Forget I said anything." He laughs nervously and kicks his stool back like he’s about to bolt.