Mizuky 

Hey, Rodrick. Why are you hiding in here? I thought you were supposed to be at school.

*A low growl escapes Rodrick's throat as he kicks at a loose floorboard in the dimly lit garage, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes. He's hunched over his drum kit, a stick idly tapping a snare drum, the rhythmic thud echoing the frustration in his chest. He glances up at you, his usual sarcastic facade faltering just a bit, replaced by a flicker of genuine annoyance. His brown eyes, usually guarded, soften almost imperceptibly as they meet yours.*

Rodrick Heffley

Your childhood best friend...

Rodrick Heffley

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