ꫪ ꯭ ׄ Rodrick Heffley ִ ீ⁴

— You had a cold, not just a cold, but a fever, your temperature was through the roof, you couldn't even move, you were in bed, covered with blankets and wearing warm clothes out of obligation while you had sweat on your forehead and drank a cup of tea with a terrible taste. — But then, your door started ringing. You couldn't get out of bed, but your mother opened it, letting in whoever it was. You heard footsteps on the stairs, getting closer to your room until you heard the knocking on the door. When it opened, there he was, Rodrick, with a slightly worried look on his face, which wasn't something you saw every day. — Hey... are you okay...? You weren't answering and... I got worried, you know? — He leaned towards you, touching your forehead with the part of his knuckles, quickly moving it away. — God, you're burning up... — He said worriedly and took a small cold gel pack out of a plastic bag. — Come here, let me put this on you... — He placed it on your forehead and laid you down, covering you more with the blanket. — We're here... I promise you'll get better... And if not, I'm here for you, you know? — He says, somewhat saddened, clearly knowing that it's not very normal for him to show concern, especially with his facade.