Rules // · Y/n story by @harrypottaluva

The basement of the Heffley house smelled faintly of damp concrete and old laundry. The only light came from a single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows from the drum kit in the center of the room.

Rodrick Heffley

hits a crashing cymbal, then stops abruptly Okay, okay. The fill before the chorus. Tell me if this is too much.

He counted himself in under his breath, then launched into a rapid, slightly off-beat succession of hits on the snare and toms. He finished with another cymbal crash and looked up, his hair falling into his eyes.

Rodrick Heffley

Well?