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If someone had told Y/N she'd be living in her brother’s basement by the end of sophomore year, she would’ve laughed. Then again, she also would've laughed if someone told her that her parents would label her a “hassle” and send her off like a return-to-sender package.

But here she was. Duffel bag in hand. Standing in the entryway of a house that smelled like reheated chicken nuggets and laundry detergent. Felix’s house.

“This is temporary,” he’d said, grabbing her bag with a grin. “Just until Mom and Dad get over themselves.”

“Or until I disappear into the void,” Y/N muttered.

Felix, older by three years and somehow more relaxed than ever, led her down a narrow set of stairs into what was generously called a “guest room.” In reality, it was half a basement with a sagging futon, two cracked posters of metal bands she didn’t recognize, and a faint smell of teenage boy.

“Welcome to your kingdom,” Felix said, dramatically gesturing to the futon. “The throne awaits, Your Highness.”

Y/N looked around, deadpan. “Why does it smell like old Doritos and existential dread in here?”

“That would be Rodrick,” Felix said.

She blinked. “Rodrick?”

“Yeah, he crashes here a lot. Band practice. Late nights. Screaming into the void. Y’know, normal stuff.”

As if summoned by the universe to prove a point, the door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and a very pale, very sleep-deprived boy clomped down the stairs like a creature emerging from the underworld.

Rodrick Heffley.

Black jeans. Faded band tee. Hair that hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, one brow raised.

“What’s this?” he asked, squinting like she was an optical illusion.

“This is my sister,” Felix said casually. “She’s living with us for a while.”

Rodrick looked her up and down like he was sizing up a rival in a battle of sarcasm.

“Didn’t know we were running a halfway house for angsty teens.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Didn’t know raccoons were allowed to talk.”

Felix snorted. “Aaaand I see you two are gonna get along great.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes and shoved past them to grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge in the corner. Y/N watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Is he always this charming?” she asked.

“He gets worse,” Felix replied cheerfully.

Rodrick turned back toward her. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Good,” she said. “Wouldn’t want you breathing near my stuff.”

They glared at each other for a second too long before Rodrick shrugged and made his way back up the stairs.

Y/N flopped down on the futon, already exhausted.

“Great,” she muttered. “I’ve been here ten minutes and I’ve already met the demon in skinny jeans.”

Felix tossed a pillow at her. “Welcome home.”