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Rodrick… did not want to go to school after the week he’s had. First Greg blackmails him, then he’s basically forced to come out to his parents, which leads to him getting kicked out. The only good thing that happened from the whole situation was that now he was crashing with Harris, and he was quickly learning that the Hills family was a lot wealthier than he had initially assumed. Like, to a ridiculous degree. He will never feel awkward about letting Harris pay for him ever again, not that he was feeling too bad about it in the first place. Either way, it was the first time he really got to see how his boyfriend lived, and it occurred to him that girls who marry rich are probably some of the smartest in the world.
The absolute last thing Rodrick wanted to do that morning, perhaps even less than going to school, was to get out of Harris’s bed. It was big, plush, and warm, practically begging him to sleep in forever. Harris, however , was pretty insistent that he get up and get dressed, so he eventually stumbled out of bed. “Wassit– what time is it?” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he finally blinked the bleariness away, he spotted the absolutely lovely sight of Harris getting dressed. His back was to him, shirt off as he went through his closet.
“It’s six fifty,” Harris mutters, sounding a bit groggy himself. He finds a long-sleeved shirt that he’s fine with and pulls it on, checking his hair in a nearby mirror. Rodrick walks over and drapes himself across Harris’s back, pressing his face against his neck.
“Do we have to go?” Rodrick mutters, meeting Harris’s eyes through the mirror. He watches his boyfriend’s expression twitch as he fights a smile, ultimately losing.
“It’s just one day, Rodrick. Then we have the weekend,” he reminds, reaching up to poke Rodrick’s cheek. “Besides, we have to figure out your situation. As much as I’d like to say you can stay here for the foreseeable future, I don’t think that’s gonna work out.”
Rodrick frowns. He hadn’t even really considered finding another place to crash other than Harris’s, since his boyfriend had assured him that he could stay for a few days at least. “I thought you said your parents barely notice when you’re here,” he points out, pulling him a bit tighter against his chest.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Harris sighs. “But it’s not my parents I’m worried about. Heather’s definitely gonna notice if you hang around for too long.”
Rodrick grimaces at the thought– remembering all too well the kind of rage that girl can have. He was also all too aware that she didn’t really like him. “Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah,” Harris chuckles, tilting his head so he could peck Rodrick’s cheek. “She has a habit of coming into my room unannounced too, so we gotta be careful.”
As though the mention of her was a summons, Heather threw the door open, walking in like she owned the place. “Hey dumbass, did you take my plaid skirt again? You seriously need to stop– what the fuck?” she sputtered, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her.
“Fuck,” Harris swore under his breath, his face flushing a brilliant red. Rodrick has the sense to get off of him, but the damage was already done. “I didn’t take your stupid skirt!”
“Skirt?” Rodrick asks, though he gets ignored.
“Oh my god, when you mentioned going steady with some guy, I didn’t think it would be him!” Heather scoffed, gesturing towards Rodrick. “Do you even remember how he ruined my sweet sixteen, or were you too high out of your mind to pay attention?”
“Trust me, I remember,” Harris says dryly. Rodrick cringes a bit at the memory, especially when he continues. “It was kind of hard to forget how boldly he was hitting on you.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really? That's the guy you're sneaking in here?” She asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Whatever. Where's my skirt?”
“I told you I don't have it,” Harris groaned, rubbing his temples. “Did you ask Holly?”
“Fine, but if she doesn’t have it, I’m going to kill you.” she hisses, turning on her heel and stomping out. She slammed the door behind her, and Harris practically slumped in relief the second she was gone.
“Thank god,” he mutters, grabbing his shoes and slipping them on. Rodrick sluggishly got dressed too, still processing whatever the hell just happened. “That was a pretty mild reaction, by Heather’s standards.” Harris mused, his eyes lingering on Rodrick for a moment.
Rodrick finished pulling on his shirt and fixed his hair, satisfied with how he looked. “That was mild?” he asks, shooting Harris a skeptical glance. “I thought she was gonna bite your head off. And what was she talking about? Why would you take her skirt?”
“She’ll get over it,” Harris declares, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He doesn’t bother answering Rodrick’s question at all, and instead walks past him and out the room, expecting him to follow along. “C’mon, we’re gonna grab some breakfast before we have to go.”
Downstairs was even more lavish than upstairs, though the kitchen was spotless in a way that suggested that it didn’t get much use. Harris further proved that hypothesis by going straight for the walk-in pantry and procuring three packs of poptarts. Rodrick wanders around, taking in the lavish decor while his boyfriend bustles around. “I thought we were leaving?” he asks, watching as Harris tears open the foil packaging with his teeth.
“Yeah, we are,” Harris hums, spitting the scrap of foil into a trashcan that was originally disguised as a cabinet. “Here,” he hands Rodrick the opened pack, and then opens another for himself.
“Thanks,” Rodrick says, accepting the pastry. He watches as Heather and Holly join them downstairs, the former looking spectacularly annoyed. Harris tossed the last, unopened pack of poptarts to Holly, who caught them with a smile.
“Thank you,” she chirped, taking the keys that Heather silently held out to her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have the younger girl go and start the car, especially since their parents made her drive Holly to school.
“I seriously can’t believe you’ve been smuggling your boyfriend in.” Heather grumbled, pushing past Harris to get to the pantry. She tossed a disgusted look Rodrick’s way, and he stuck his tongue out at her. “And why him? He’s a total loser.” She gestured at him despite speaking like he wasn’t even present.
Harris didn’t even seem particularly bothered by the slander towards his boyfriend, simply rolling his eyes. “At least I can keep a boyfriend,” he quips, taking a lazy bite of his poptart.
That comment struck a nerve, because Heather’s face flushed red and she squawked, “I can too! That’s not fair.”
“Didn’t you just dump Scott again?”
“Fuck off!”
Harris had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright, putting his hands up in surrender. Once Heather had stormed out, he snickered to himself, tossing his trash in the bin. “Let’s go,” he says, waving Rodrick over.
The actual ride to school was pretty anti-climactic, as most car rides tend to be, with the duo making idle conversation and altogether avoiding the topic of school. Despite Harris’s best efforts, they ran a bit late and had to rush to their own classrooms upon arrival, which meant that they wouldn’t get to see each other much until lunch, but even that was complicated. Since they had different lunch hours, Rodrick’s being right before Harris’s, one of them would have to skip a class to actually be able to hang out. Rodrick, of course, jumped at the opportunity.
“Hey, over here!” Harris called, waving Rodrick over. He was sitting near the exit, but much to Rodrick’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.
Now, he technically knew that Harris had friends other than him, he’s just never seen any of them in person before. So when he approached Harris’s table only to be faced with the sight of a brunette girl sitting all too close, her arm around Harris, he really couldn’t help the initial flare of jealousy in his chest. “Hey babe,” he greets, putting extra emphasis on babe as he slides into the seat beside them.
“Hey–”
“Damn Harris, you weren’t kidding when you said he was cute!” the girl laughed, removing her arm and putting a polite amount of distance between them. Warmth flooded Harris’s face, painting his cheeks and neck a rosy shade of pink.
“Anyway– Rodrick, this is Alice,” Harris introduced through a tight smile. “Alice, this is Rodrick–”
“Oh, I know.” Alice grinned, devious and bright. “Harris has been talking about you for months now.”
“Months?” Rodrick asks, a giddy smile threatening to pull at his lips despite him trying to maintain his aloof facade. Harris sat up a bit straighter, crossing his arm tight over his chest.
“Yeah, whatever. You already know I liked you for a while before you actually asked me out,” he huffs, clearly flustered. Alice seems all too amused by this, patting his back in faux sympathy.
“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t you like me?” Rodrick boasts, all bravado. It was more for Alice, who shook her head and laughed, than for Harris, who just shot him a flustered glare. “Okay, seriously though. I didn’t realize you liked me that much,” he continued, leaning into Harris’s space.
“Shush,” Harris huffed, slouching against him. “You don’t need the ego boost.” Rodrick snickered, and found he was a lot more comfortable now than when he had first walked over. Harris didn’t enjoy being laughed at, and decided to finally change the subject. “We should figure out where you can stay. As much as I want you to keep crashing at mine, I think Heather will throw a whole bitch fit if you come home with me again.”
Rodrick brightened immediately, a proud grin pulling at his lips. “Oh, I already have that handled.”
“You…do?” Harris asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“Yeah,” Rodrick insists, having the gall to look mildly offended by the doubt. “I asked my band if any of them would be cool with me crashing with them for a bit, and Ward said I could crash at his place.”
Harris nods, a warm, proud feeling budding in his chest. “Oh, awesome. Ward’s the big guy, right?”
Rodrick nods– he still forgets that Harris has only met his bandmates once or twice before and still needed a little help putting faces to names. “Yeah, that’s him. His parents are chill, so they won’t care if I hang out there for a while.”
“What’s going on?” Alice asks, glancing between the two boys. Harris turns to her to explain the situation, and Rodrick gets that nasty flare of jealousy all over again. Maybe he did have a problem if he really couldn’t stand it whenever Harris’s attention wasn’t on him for any amount of time. What was worse, was that Harris didn’t just give his attention back once he was finished talking to Alice. No, some blond jock– one Rodrick actually recognized as a guy who regularly pokes fun at his band and ridicules them– had to come over and say hey because they apparently knew each other.
“H-man! It’s been a minute since I last saw you.”
“Hey Scotty,” Harris greets, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. Alice didn’t seem all too impressed with this guy either, rolling her eyes. “How’s it going, man?”
“Oh, you know,” Scott shrugged, running a hand through his obnoxiously slicked back hair. Whatever he was going to say was lost when he finally noticed Rodrick, his eyes lighting up with a malicious glint. “Oh, this is rich. How’d you worm your way over here, Heffley? I thought losers like you ate lunch under the bleachers.”
Rodrick bristled immediately, so much so that Harris noticed. He opened his mouth to defend himself, only to be beaten to the punch. “Knock it off, Scott.” Harris says, sitting up a bit straighter. “He’s with me.”
“Doesn’t Heather like, hate his guts or something?” Scott asks, sliding into a seat across from them.
“God, you’re such a fucking suck-up,” Harris mutters, any hint of friendliness he had been willing to show Scott quickly drying up. “I don’t care what Heather thinks, he’s my boyfriend.”
Scott’s face flushes, and he has the decency to look embarrassed. “OH! He’s– Oh… really?” he splutters, clearly caught off guard. “I mean, I know you’re… you know. But I didn’t know you– and him–”
“Smooth,” Alice mutters, finally putting an end to Scott’s rambling.
“C’mon guys,” Harris sighs, getting up. Rodrick jumped to follow immediately, but Alice was a bit more hesitant. “He’s just pissy because Heather broke up with him again. He’ll be fine again in a few days when they inevitably get back together.” And with that, the trio went to find somewhere else to kill time before they had to go back to class.
Rodrick found himself strangely comforted from watching Scott get shut down so swiftly. It wasn’t often that anyone was willing to go out of their way to defend him– actually, he wasn’t sure if anyone had done that before at all. It was an odd thing, being in a kind of relationship where he isn’t expected to take the lead all the time. All of his past relationships– of which there were only two, both with girls who weren’t even that into him– had been short-lived and bland. Everything was different with Harris, though part of him wondered if it was purely because he’s a guy. That was certainly a change from his usual dating preferences, though a welcome one.
Harris knocked his foot against Rodrick’s, his brows furrowed slightly. “You okay? You’ve been pretty zoned out.”
Warmth swiftly crept up Rodrick’s neck as he looked around– he had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that they had relocated to the lawn. “I’m fine!” he insists, though he’s not sure if he even fully believes it himself. “Just thinking about stuff.”
Harris squints at him for a moment, but seems to accept his answer at face value. “Okay? Don’t hurt yourself.” he jokes, though it falls a bit flat.
A beat of silence passed, and then Alice picked up the conversation from where it had left off. Rodrick did his best to pay more attention, and wasn’t disappointed by what he heard. “You’re gonna try out for the musical, right?” she asks, looking at Harris. “Auditions end today.”
“Damn, today?” Harris sighs, clearly conflicted. “I dunno.”
“Musical?” Rodrick asks, a grin pulling at his lips. “Seriously? That’s dorky as hell, babe.”
“Oh really?” Harris chuckles, a grin spreading across his own face. “Dorkier than being in a garage band?” he shoots back, the routine banter making both of them laugh, even as Rodrick rushes to defend himself.
By the end of the schoolday, Rodrick couldn’t wait for the weekend. That wasn’t unusual– especially for him– but he was actually looking forward to spending the weekend hanging out with Ward, because it most likely meant that he’d get to hang out with his band and get in some solid practice time. It’d be nice, especially since he had been accidentally blowing off his friends to hang out with Harris. However, he still wanted to find Harris and say bye before he left for the day. Ward was cool with waiting on him, so he went out to find his boyfriend.
That was easier said than done, it turned out. Harris wasn’t anywhere he normally lurked after classes let out, and he wasn’t responding to Rodrick’s texts. When he explained that to Ward, along with showing him the phone, the other boy leveled him with a blank look glanced over top angled sunglasses. He put a hand on Rodrick’s shoulder to get him to focus on him rather than the phone for a second.
“Dude, you need to take a chill pill. It’s been two minutes, give him time to actually see the message.” Ward says, annoyingly rational. Rodrick tries to pull his phone away again, but Ward keeps a grip on his wrist, pointing out exactly when the message goes from delivered to read. “See? You just had to give him a minute.”
Rodrick was finally allowed to pull his hand away, and he watched as the stupid little typing bubble appeared, further proving his point. “Yeah, okay.” He huffs, waiting for the message to come through. When it does, he scoffs. “He’s in the drama room.”
“Why?” Ward asks, his brows drawing together.
A smile twitched at the corner of Rodrick’s lips despite his open distaste for anything…theatrical. “I think he mentioned auditioning for the musical,” he sighs, pocketing his phone. “Lame, but whatever.”
“It’s not that lame,” Ward hums, pushing up his sunglasses. “Are you still gonna wait around for him, though?”
“Nah,” Rodrick sighs, running his thumb over the edge of his phone, then shoves it in his pocket. “I’ll see him on Monday. Or over the weekend, maybe.”
“Cool,” Ward says, glancing over at the exit. “So we’re good to go?”
“Yeah, c’mon.”
The weekend ended up being pretty good, if a little uneventful. He got to hang out with his band, lounge around with his best friend, and wonder what he would’ve been doing if he was home. He tried to push those thoughts as far back as they’d go, but they would pop up regardless in every quiet moment. Monday, as always, came much too quick, but at least he could go find his boyfriend. Rodrick and Ward arrived together, only to immediately go their separate ways because Ward wanted to do something at his locker, and Rodrick had planned to meet Harris over by the drama room.
“Wait, so you’re getting here an hour early now?” Rodrick asks, his nose scrunched up at Harris. The two of them were sitting against the wall outside of the drama room, catching up with the short time they had before class.
“Mm-hm. We’re going over the script right now, but casting is gonna be announced later today.” Harris explained, holding up his copy of the script. He hands it to Rodrick, who flips through it without really reading anything.
“Be more chill,” he reads aloud, squinting to read the words printed on the front. “Sounds lame.”
“It’s not lame,” Harris defends, rolling his eyes. “It’s a good musical! You should listen to it with me sometime,” he muses, a smile pulling at his lips. “I think you’d like ‘The Pitiful Children’, it’s one of the best songs.”
“Sounds like an affront to music,” Rodrick says smugly, just for the sake of being difficult. Harris kicks at his foot, making him laugh and retaliate in a similar fashion. Soon enough, they were fully playing footsie, kicking at each other playfully.
“You didn’t even know what affront meant a week ago!” Harris accuses, unable to bite back his grin. “Actually, I’m not convinced you know what it means.”
“Of course I do!” Rodrick huffs, speaking before even considering whether he actually did or not. “It means– uh, hang on.”
“Just say you don’t know, man.”
“Shut up, I know it.”
“I don’t believe you,” Harris laughs, leaning against Rodrick and grinning up at him. Something swooped in Rodrick’s chest, and he found that a wide, smitten smile threatened spread across his face.
“Whatever. Dork.” he scoffed, before giving in and pecking Harris right on the lips. It was quick, but it left both boys smiling wide at each other, their faces adorned with matching rosy hues. Harris seemed as though he was going to say something else, but the bell interrupted him.
“See you at lunch?” he asks instead, standing up and offering Rodrick a hand up.
“Yeah, see you.” Rodrick sighs, reluctantly letting go of Harris’s hand. They went their separate ways, and he was left to his own thoughts while sitting through class, barely paying attention to anything. The thing primarily circling his mind was, of course, Harris. He couldn’t help the fluttery feeling that bloomed in his chest whenever he was near him, something that hadn’t gone away once they started dating like he assumed it would. There was a pattern to all of Rodrick’s previous crushes, where he would become obsessed with getting their attention but the appeal would fizzle out once he had it. Part of him had been dreading that when it came to Harris, the same pattern would play out. As the morning dragged on, he slowly came to terms with the fact that it wasn't the case. The butterflies were still there, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
Rodrick didn’t know how to be in a relationship. Not in the long-term, anyway. It wasn’t even something he really thought to worry about until right then, sitting in the middle of math class, his teacher’s lecture going in one ear and out the other. He was never the type to seriously think about the future, but now he found that he couldn’t help it. He wanted to consider the future, and he wanted Harris to be with him in it. It was a terrifying concept to be sure, but he was comforted by the fact that if he didn’t fuck it up, he wouldn’t be alone.
When lunch came around, Rodrick badgered Harris until he caved and agreed to come eat lunch with him and the rest of his band. Alice tagged along with the blond, practically vibrating as she rambled on about how the cast list had finally been posted.
“Hey babe,” Harris hums, taking a seat beside Rodrick. Alice ended up sitting across from him, beside Ben and Ward.
“Everything has to move stupid fast,” she explains, continuing her conversation like she hadn’t ever been interrupted and leaving everyone other than Harris to put the context together via context clues alone. “The drama director had to bump up the show to next week, so we’re on an insane rehearsal schedule right now.”
“Did you get a role?” Rodrick asks, nudging Harris with his knee. Ben, closeted theater kid that he was, failed at pretending he wasn’t interested in the conversation.
Harris lit up, sitting up a bit straighter. “I got the Squip. The villain.” He says it proudly, his grin bordering wicked.
“Wait, really?” Rodrick blinks, taken aback. If anything, he assumed Harris would’ve gotten the lead– not that he knew anything about musicals, much less the one they were actually doing. “You’re playing a bad guy?”
“The Squip is a supercomputer in the main character’s head that ‘helps’ him be cool,” Alice explains, making air quotes around ‘helps’. She and Harris exchange a grin, and she adds, “He gets all of the best songs, obviously. The villain songs are always the best.”
“Al got the role of Brooke, which is pretty badass.” Harris chimes in, to which Alice took a playful bow.
Chris looks up from his sandwich, eyeing Harris like he’s seeing him in a brand new light. “A villain, huh? Isn’t that supposed to go to someone intimidating?” he looks over at Rodrick, then back at Harris. Something dawns on him, and he smiles to himself. “Never mind. You two make a lot more sense now. Congrats, man.”
Harris grinned, and he and Alice continued to dominate the conversation, talking about the musical and all of the stuff the drama director was having them do. Rodrick soaked it all up with a smile, putting his arm around Harris while doing his best to follow along and pay attention. Seeing his boyfriend actually being passionate about something was exhilarating, and having his friends– his band– taking him seriously too? It made for a damn near perfect day.
That afternoon, Rodrick decided to stick around after the schoolday ended for the sole purpose of walking Harris to his first official rehearsal. The drama room was packed with students, all going through their own copy of the script as they read through it for the first time. Rodrick lingered around to watch as Harris focused in, highlighting his lines and making notes in the margins. It was a side of his boyfriend he had never seen before, and while it was absolutely dorky as hell, Rodrick found that he couldn’t stop watching. It was dorky, sure, but it was also adorable. He stuck around as long as he was physically able to, but eventually he had to leave because he promised to actually show up to practice for one.
The week passed in a blur– with Harris’s new theater schedule, he barely had any time to spare for Rodrick, which sucked. He compensated by hanging out more with his band– they had actually started to sound really good with all of the extra practice they had been getting, not to mention they were putting together a more cohesive setlist. Despite all of their progress though, they were still having trouble landing gigs. Rodrick had faith that their time would come, of course. His time crashing on Ward’s couch came to an end a lot sooner than he thought it would, but thankfully he had another backup.
“Heather and Scott got back together again, so she won’t give us trouble anymore.” Harris assured him as they climbed up the stairs to his room. Rodrick was, of course, ecstatic that he got to crash with his boyfriend again, and had no complaints– even if it was strange to think about his former crush having an on-again-off-again relationship with a guy who went out of his way to be an asshole to him.
“Man, I’ve missed this place,” Rodrick sighs dramatically, attempting to make a bee-line to Harris’s bed. He’s stopped in his tracks by a grip on the back of his shirt, making him pout.
“Pump the breaks, babe,” Harris commands, and Rodrick makes a valiant effort not to shiver from the finality of his tone. “When’s the last time you showered? Or, you know, done laundry?”
“Uh,” Rodrick hummed, rubbing his arm as he tried to come up with a date. It had been a while– he’s pretty sure all of the clothes he had grabbed were only kind of clean even before his banishment. “What day is it again?”
“Rodrick!” Harris groans, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “No wonder you fuckin’ reek, dude. Get in the shower and give me your clothes.” he demands, pushing Rodrick towards the bathroom connected to his bedroom. An embarrassed flush clawed its way up Rodrick’s neck, staining his pale skin pink. Harris stood right outside as he stripped down and passed his clothes through the door, only to leave him completely alone to figure out whatever fancy mess that was his shower.
One much-needed shower later, Rodrick was sitting on Harris’s bed beside him, dressed in his boyfriend’s clothes and scrolling on his phone.. That was yet another thing he liked more than any of his past relationships with women– he basically had a whole other wardrobe at his disposal. And he already knew he liked seeing Harris in his clothes, but it paled in comparison to the feeling of wearing Harris’s clothes.
Speaking of Harris– he was engrossed in flipping through his script yet again, though Rodrick was convinced he had the whole thing memorized by that point. “Wanna help me run lines?” Harris asks, leaning against Rodrick. “I need to go over ‘Be More Chill part one’ again. It’s kind of the introduction of my character, so I need to make sure I have it down cold.”
“I guess,” Rodrick sighs, though he found that he doesn’t really mind. Still, he plays up his annoyance by rolling his eyes and acting reluctant to take the script Harris hands him. “You don’t expect me to actually sing, do you?”
“No, that’s fine.” Harris says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know you can’t sing for shit. Just speak the lines if you want.”
“Hey–!” Rodrick protests, but Harris just grins as he gets up and gets into character. ‘Getting into character’ consisted of standing up a bit straighter and moving around the room with a confidence he didn’t normally display– speaking with the kind of authority that Rodrick had been missing ever since their tutoring sessions ended. He was barely paying attention when the music started, and then Harris was talking down to him. Condensation dripped from his tone as he sang at him, belittling and tearing him to shreds. Rodrick fully forgot that he was supposed to be reading out lines, and speaking was altogether thrown out the window when Harris had to go and call him a masturbator.
“Rodrick,” Harris sighs, pausing the music. The genuine tone of annoyance snapped Rodrick out of his trance, and he had the decency to seem embarrassed. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine,” Rodrick squeaked. “You can keep going. It’s just, uh, this Jeremy guy is really lame. Mm-hm, yeah, so pretending to be him just doesn’t really work for me.”
“I mean, that’s kind of the point,” Harris points out, though he doesn’t seem nearly as annoyed anymore. “All you have to do is read the non-highlighted lines after I say mine. Half of this song is just you repeating stuff after me anyway– it’s not like it's rocket science.”
The last comment was delivered with the exact same condescension that he had summoned for the song, and it left Rodrick stammering. “Uh– yeah, sure. Anything for you, babe.”
Harris huffed a laugh, choosing not to comment on Rodrick’s flushed cheeks. “From the top,” he mutters to himself, restarting the music. He taps the script, guiding Rodrick to his first line so he hopefully wouldn’t miss it, and then starts singing his own lines. “Take your hands out of your pockets, arch your back, puff out your chest,”
Rodrick found himself complying without really thinking about it, his eyes flicking from the script clutched in his hands to the boy in front of him. He actually manages to stumble through his lines– something that actually ends up helping him, because the main character stammers a lot anyway.
“Ooh, everything about you is so terrible.” Harris sings, sending a shiver through Rodrick. “Woah, everything about you makes me want to die.”
“All the people in the mall think you are such a slob,”
“Boy, can I see why!”
Rodrick sat there, clutching his script like a lifeline, trying his hardest to time all of his lines correctly and not throw Harris off. It wasn’t often that Harris allowed himself to be truly nasty, much less let Rodrick see that side of him, so to say that Rodrick was blindsided was an understatement. Heat rushed through him as each line was delivered with a level of sincerity that made it hard for him to remember that it was just a character– and that it wasn’t Harris who was saying and meaning those deliciously awful things. Keeping those thoughts at bay, the ones that suggested that Harris might really mean it all, was not for the faint of heart.
It came to the part of the song that Harris had warned him of– where Rodrick would just need to echo the things Harris said, but he found that his throat was completely dry, and he couldn’t force out a single word. Fuck… Rodrick thought, pleading with any higher power that his thoughts weren’t showing on his face. This should not be doing it for me as much as it is.
Harris finishes the sequence despite Rodrick’s lack of participation, his face mildly flushed from the exertion of singing. He reaches over, gently taking the script from his slack-jawed boyfriend and tossing it aside on the bed. “Was that too much?” he asks, head tilted slightly, brows furrowed with concern. “You know I don’t actually mean any of that, right? It’s just a character…”
“Uh–” Rodrick swallowed hard, his face bright red. “No! I know. It was just… you know. Good. Really good.”
Harris hummed, finally taking notice of the flush spreading down Rodrick’s neck. “You good?” he asks, leaning closer and noting how it made Rodrick squirm.
“I’m fine,” Rodrick blurts, looking anywhere but at Harris. “I mean, obviously I think theater is lame and running lines is also lame by default, but like, are you really going to be saying all that to whoever plays Jeremy?” he asks all in one breath, leaving Harris even more confused than he already was.
“Well, yeah?” he says slowly. “Is that an issue or something?”
“No? I mean–” Rodrick cuts himself off, feeling a bit dizzy from how flustered he was getting. “It’s kinda hot, you know?”
“It’s… hot?” Harris parrots, disbelieving. “Wait, so you–” Rodrick nods wordlessly, embarrassment clawing up his throat. Nodding slowly, a rosy hue blooms across Harris’s face as he processes it all. In the end, he spares Rodrick by moving on, grabbing his script to run another scene. “Duly noted,” he murmurs, and Rodrick gets the feeling that it’ll come up again at some point.
As opening night approached, Rodrick was bestowed a very important task by Alice– helping Harris keep his cool and not freak out. It was a pretty simple task in theory, especially since Harris was good at acting, both in the sense that he’ll be fine on the stage and in the sense that Rodrick was having a hard time telling if he was nervous or not. To make matters worse, his mom had been calling non-stop for the last two days, and Rodrick was determined to ignore her.
“Babe, put the script down and get some rest,” Rodrick sighs, sitting beside Harris as he mutters along with the lines he was reading to himself. “You know your lines, hell, you could probably recite the whole musical in your sleep.”
Harris shot him a glare when he tried to take the script, but finally let him put it aside after a moment’s hesitation. “What if I blank or something?” He asks quietly, his eyes fixed on where Rodrick had tossed the script the moment he had gotten it away from him.
Rodrick’s whole demeanor softened, and he was faced with the fact that he had no clue what to say when faced with real vulnerability. “Well, then you blank,” he says, shrugging. “It happens, man. But I seriously doubt that would happen to you.”
“Gee, that’s fucking reasuring,” Harris scoffs, shifting away. Rodrick pulls him back by throwing an arm around his shoulder, immediately backtracking.
“That’s not what I meant!” he insists, his mind racing as he struggles to find a better way to word his thoughts. “I mean that mess-ups aren’t nearly as bad as they feel. Like, take Loded Diper. We’ve messed up during gigs before and sure, it feels mortifying at the time, but you can barely notice that anyone missed a note when you play it back.”
Harris nods silently, seeming to finally listen to what he was trying to say. “I guess…”
“Mhm, everytime I get on stage I know it's an opportunity to show people what we’ve got. Any show could end up being our big break, so we play our hardest every time. That’s what you’ve got to do– give it your all, no matter what. You literally can’t look stupid or mess up if you do that.”
A smile pulls at Harris’s lips, even as he side-eyes his boyfriend. “Stop acting wise, it’s fucking weird.”
Rodrick grins, pressing a kiss to the corner of Harris’s mouth. “Then stop worrying. You’ll kill it tomorrow,” he insists, only for the moment to be interrupted by his phone buzzing. He tries to silence it while keeping Harris from seeing the screen, but he catches his wrist before he can.
“Is it your mom again?” Harris asks, his brow furrowing slightly.
Rodrick sighs and shows him, confirming that it was. “She’s not taking the hint.” he grumbles, the phone finally going to voicemail. “I don’t care about anything she has to say.”
Harris hums, a contemplative look crossing his features. Rodrick’s phone lit up again with yet another call from Susan, causing both boys to bristle. “Just… answer her once, man. See what she wants. Obviously she can’t make you go home if you don’t want to.”
Rodrick groaned, but answered the call regardless. He pressed the phone to his ear with much more aggression than was probably warranted. “What do you want, mom?”
“Rodrick!” Susan cries, her voice flooded with relief so pure that it was clear even through the phone’s distortion. “Oh thank goodness. I thought you would never pick up. Honey, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“I’m fine,” Rodrick mutters, shifting a bit so Harris could listen in without him needing to put it on speaker. “And if you’re so worried, then maybe you shouldn’t have kicked me out in the first place.”
“I know. I know, sweetie. That’s what I’ve been needing to tell you,” Susan pleads. “I talked your father down, and he’s come around to the idea of you… you know.”
“Dating Harris?” Rodrick asks dryly.
“Yes. Harris really is a lovely young man, and I’m so happy you two are together. Frank will see that too, eventually. Please, Rodrick, we want you to come home.”
Rodrick stayed silent for a moment, a tight feeling coiling in his chest. He glances at Harris, who looks skeptical, and moves the phone away from his head. “What do you think?”
Harris shrugs, wrapping his arms around Rodrick and tucking his chin atop his shoulder. “At the very, very least, you deserve an apology from your dad,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low so the phone wouldn't pick it up. “The ‘petty bitch’ in me wants you to make him do it in public, though.”
Despite the tense nature of the conversation, a grin threatened to pull at Rodrick's lips, and a rush of affection for his boyfriend flooded his chest. “Bet,” he murmured, then brought the phone back to his ear. “You still there, mom?”
“I’m here, honey. What will it take for you to come home?”
Rodrick took a breath, and Harris hugged him a bit tighter. “I’m not coming home just because dad cooled off or whatever,” he says, his voice steady and firm. “I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t happen. I want him to apologise to my face and acknowledge that he fucked up.”
Susan made an unsure noise– like she was biting her tongue to keep from reprimanding him for cussing. “Okay. We can do that.”
“The school is doing a musical tomorrow night, and I’m gonna be there to support my boyfriend,” Rodrick informs her, feeling Harris's smile against his neck. “If you guys want to apologize, then you can meet us there and we can talk after the show. Otherwise, I’m staying where I am.”
There was a pause, but then Susan agreed. “We’ll be there, Rodrick.”
The musical was a massive success. Harris killed it, playing the manipulative villain with a good mix of humor and sinister charm that held the audience captive. Rodrick spent the entire show with his eyes glued to Harris, on the edge of his seat every time he dominated the stage. It was more exhilarating than he thought it would be, and he left the auditorium with a new appreciation for theater. He filed out with the rest of the audience, and kept an eye out for Harris– spotting him with the rest of the cast, taking pictures and chatting. Warmth blooms in his chest as he takes a moment to just watch, in awe of how bright Harris seemed. Their eyes met across the hall, and Harris broke away to join him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“God, you did amazing, babe!” Rodrick gushed, cupping Harris’s grinning face. He still had his stage makeup on, his eyes outlined in eyeliner so dark it gave Rodrick a run for his money. “I swear I got chills watching you.”
“Thank you! I’m just happy you liked it,” Harris laughs, leaning into the touch. “I know it’s not really your thing.”
“Psh, I never said that,” Rodrick jokes, though his grin falters when he spots his parents. They were standing by the exit, Susan scanning through the swaths of people and Frank looking deeply uncomfortable. It didn’t look like they brought along the youngest Heffleys, something Rodrick figured was a good call. He locks eyes with his dad for a moment, and Susan spots him a moment later. Tearing his gaze away, he focused on Harris again. “But you should seriously consider joining Loded Diper as a singer. You’re amazing.” In full view of his parents, he kissed Harris, slow and soft.
Harris melted into the kiss, pulling Rodrick closer as he reciprocated. When they broke apart, both were smiling. “Maybe I will,” he murmurs, a flirty undertone to his words. “Want me to come with you to talk to your parents?”
“Nah,” Rodrick sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your cast party or whatever it is you theater nerds do.”
“Alright,” Harris hums, pulling Rodrick in for one more quick kiss. “Call me when everything’s said and done?”
“Yeah, of course,” Rodrick promises, offering him one last smile before turning to face his parents. He walked over and Susan met him halfway, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Frank stayed rooted to his spot, watching the scene with a clear sense of discomfort. “Come on, let’s talk outside,” Rodrick murmurs, wiggling out of his mother’s embrace.
His parents followed him out into the parking lot, to where his van was parked near the back of the lot. He figured it would be best to give himself a quick escape route on the chance that things went poorly. The three of them stood there, a tense sort of silence filling the air. Both Susan and Rodrick looked at Frank expectantly, waiting for him to speak up even though he clearly didn’t want to.
Under his wife’s sharp gaze, Frank cleared his throat and finally looked Rodrick in the eye. “I… I was out of line, Rodrick,” he mutters stiffly, and Rodrick wouldn’t have been surprised if it came out that Susan had made him rehearse what to say. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. Or about Harris. You’re my son and I’ll… accept you. Even if I don’t agree with what you’re choosing.”
Rodrick looked at his dad, really studying him for a moment. It certainly wasn’t the best apology in the world– hell, he wasn’t actually sure if it qualified as one at all. But he was tired. Tired of couch hopping, tired of being unsure of where he was going to sleep at night, and tired of cycling between his same three shirts and singular pair of jeans every day. He wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed again, and eat his mom’s cooking, and torment his brothers. He was man enough to admit he missed his family– as dysfunctional as they are. The day when he’d finally move out for good and leave them behind was going to arrive eventually, but not yet. Not under those tense circumstances. “Thanks, dad.” Rodrick says quietly, accepting the invitation to go home.
Susan gave him another tight hug, and then his parents left to go find their car. Rodrick lingered in the parking lot for a while, sitting in his van while it idled and he watched people file out of the school building. Finally, he drove home, taking the long way so he could call Harris and fill him in. For the first time in almost two weeks, he was going to sleep in his own bed, and it would be heavenly.