Chapter Text
The van hummed softly as the rain began again, slow and delicate against the windshield. Streetlights stretched into thin orange lines across the wet pavement, fading in and out of focus with every rhythmic sweep of the wipers.
Greg sat in the middle seat, small head leaning against the window, watching the water trace trembling paths down the glass. His eyelids fluttered with each bump in the road, but he refused to close them completely.
Rodrick glanced at him in the rearview mirror and smiled - quietly, to himself. “You can sleep, y’know,” he murmured.
Greg shook his head, still stubborn, though his voice came out thick and tired. “Not yet. like the sound.”
“The rain?”
Greg nodded, barely. “And you driving.”
That one hit deeper than Rodrick expected. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just drove slower, quieter, letting the sound of the rain fill the empty spaces between them.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Greg had finally lost the fight. His small body slumped sideways, his cheek pressed against the seatbelt strap. One arm hung loosely by his side, hand still clutching the edge of his little frog cup.
Rodrick sat there for a second after cutting the engine, staring through the fogged-up windshield. The house looked asleep - dark windows, no movement behind the curtains. It always did.
“Figures,” he muttered.
He unbuckled, stepped out into the drizzle, and opened the back door as quietly as he could. “Hey,” he whispered. “C’mon, sleepyhead.”
Greg mumbled something that sounded like ‘five more minutes’ but didn’t move. So Rodrick just chuckled under his breath, slid his arms under the boy, and lifted him up carefully. Greg stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to mumble, “’m not tired.”
“Sure you’re not,” Rodrick said, balancing him against his chest, Greg’s head falling instantly to his shoulder.
The house smelled faintly of fabric softener and silence. The kind of silence that had weight. Rodrick hated it - the way it made everything feel smaller, like the walls were listening.
He carried Greg down the stairs, the familiar creak on the third step muffled by the boy’s soft breathing. The basement lights were dim now, just the warm fairy lights still glowing faintly along the wall. Greg’s corner looked exactly as they’d left it: the blanket slightly rumpled, toy cars scattered near the drum kit, crayons on the floor.
Rodrick lowered him gently onto the small foam mattress, tucking the tiny blanket over his chest. Greg blinked up sleepily, his curls a messy halo against the pillow.
“Wotwick?” he mumbled, voice barely there.
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Can you stay?”
Rodrick hesitated, the question soft but too heavy to ignore. He looked at the wall - at the childish drawings Greg had made earlier, still taped beside the drums. Five stick figures smiling in crooked hearts. His band. His family. And in the middle of them, a small figure with the biggest heart drawn around him.
“Yeah,” Rodrick said finally. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”
He sat down on the floor beside the mattress, legs crossed, back against the wall. The hum of the amp in the corner was low and steady - almost like a heartbeat.
Greg’s fingers reached out from under the blanket, blindly searching until they found Rodrick’s sleeve. He held on tight, not in fear, just in quiet assurance - like he needed to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Rodrick’s hand came to rest over the small one, his thumb tracing slow circles across Greg’s knuckles.
“’Night, bud,” he whispered.
Greg’s voice was already slipping into sleep. “’Night… love you.”
The words were muffled, half lost to exhaustion, but they landed with the kind of weight only honesty could carry.
Rodrick froze. He’d heard those words from plenty of people - drunk friends, flirty girls, even his mom sometimes, quick and mechanical like a script. But not like this. Not from someone who meant it with everything they had.
He swallowed hard. “Love you too, little man.”
Outside, thunder rolled softly in the distance. Inside, the fairy lights flickered once, then steadied.
Rodrick stayed there long after Greg had fallen asleep. His head rested against the cold wall, eyes unfocused, listening to the rhythm of Greg’s breathing - slow, steady, safe.
For the first time in a long while, he let himself think. About how unfair it was that a kid that small already knew what loneliness felt like. About how no one else noticed how often Greg looked for attention and foun
He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.
He wasn’t good at much - school sucked, his band was barely hanging on, and his parents never seemed to look at him unless it was to yell. But this? Keeping Greg safe? Making sure he never had to feel as invisible as Rodrick did?
That, he could do.
He pulled the blanket up once more, brushing a strand of hair out of Greg’s face.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, voice thick with something between a promise and a prayer. “As long as I’m here… you’re gonna be okay.”
The rain kept falling. The house kept sleeping.
And for the first time that night, Rodrick didn’t feel completely alone.