seventeen ✰ rodrick heffley x reader

✰ chapter six

You've been staring at a tiny bug crawling through the grooves of your math classroom's brick wall instead of taking your test for what feels like hours. Every time you check the clock, though, only seconds have passed.

After a while, you alternate between the bug and the back of Rodrick's head.

He won't talk to you. He barely even looks at you anymore.

Ben won't stop giving you concerned looks in the hallway. You're sure he knows about what happened. Rodrick tells him everything.

You tap your pen absentmindedly on the desk. Class is over in seven minutes and you've only written your name on the top of your paper. You don't intend on writing anything else. Fuck calculus, anyway.

You shove your hands into your pockets and sling your backpack over your shoulder as the bell rings, the first one to leave the class. When you look back, you pretend it's because you left something in the classroom, and not because you're doubling back to see Rodrick.

Not that he's there. Not that he would talk to you if he was.

It's been almost three weeks since the kiss, and you've got nothing in return but the cold shoulder from both Rodrick and Ben. You've never regretted anything more in your entire life. It's almost cruel how you've managed to fuck things up even worse than they were before.

The second bell rings, signaling the beginning of lunch. Your sister's old NYU hoodie as your armor, you march into the cafeteria, expecting the same as usual—blank, cold stares from everyone who never bothered to learn your name, Rodrick acting like you don't exist, probably to save you the embarrassment of rejection, and Ben giving you small waves when Rodrick isn't looking.

It's different, though, when you walk in. Ben's standing in line with a tray of... something in his hands when he sees you. He smiles weakly.

You raise your eyebrows at him as he walks up to you. "What, you're done giving me the silent treatment?"

Ben looks confused and a little sheepish as he sets his tray down at the nearest table. "Yeah. Sorry about that," he mumbles uncomfortably.

You shake your head shamefully. "I figured you and Rodrick were in on it together."

"Hey, just 'cause Rodrick's being an asshole doesn't mean I have to be. You're my friend too, (Y/N)."

"Is it too much for me to ask if I'm still in the band, then?" You ask wryly. Ben's smile drops off his face and he chuckles nervously.

"I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one," he mutters. You can't blame him.

You're about to head find a secluded place to eat when Ben grabs your arm. "Why don't you just ask Rodrick yourself?"

You turn back to look at him. "Because he's pissed at me."

Ben frowns, dropping your arm. "I'm sick of the two of you acting like children. Besides, if you're out of the band we need to find another bassist, and I'm not emotionally prepared to go through that."

You laugh. You've missed Ben.

So you follow him over to where Rodrick is sitting. He looks a little dejected. You can't help but think it's your fault, and it withers your confidence a little. Ben sees you falter and motions you forward.

You slide into the seat next to Rodrick. He doesn't look up. You knock your leg into his.

"Hi," you say softly. "I'm sorry."

The corner of his mouth twitches. You've learned your lesson, but you want to touch it. You let your hands fall into your lap instead, drumming your fingertips against your thighs. Across the table, Ben motions for you to ask the question that brought you over in the first place. You nod, eyes widening, and take a deep, shaky breath.