A/N: Hello from the other siiiiiiiide!

I couldn't resist making that joke. That's probably the only joke that will be in this story. This is not your usual romantic comedy (or action comedy, or straight-up comedy) that you might expect from me. This is a sad story.

It's also a vaguely clichéd story; the Luan-is-depressed trope is rather overused. But I still wanted to write it, regardless.

So here you go: a sad, clichéd story.

Note: This story takes place three years in the future. Luan is 17, and the other characters have been similarly aged up.

DISCLAIMER: The Loud House, all related characters, and any other media that I reference don't belong to me.

Enjoy! Or don't.

Luan gripped the trophy tightly in her hands as she walked home from where the school bus had dropped her off. She squinted to read the label yet again in the fading light: "Improv Group Competition: Southeast Michigan District Event Winners".

She still couldn't believe that her team, The Chuckle-Monkeys, had won, and that they had qualified for the district championships. It was bananas, come to think of it.

Luan allowed herself a small grin and a giggle at the thought of that pun.

The expression of mirth didn't come to her as naturally as it usually would.

Luan chalked it up to her having to keep a straight face for eight hours straight.

She didn't even smile at that pun.

As she turned down the driveway leading towards her residence, she recalled that laughter just hadn't been coming quite so easily to her over the past couple of days.

Maybe it was her stressing over midterms. Her grades had been suffering as of late, thanks to a wonderfully addictive website called TVTropes.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Luan really had to do something about her procrastination problem.

But first, she had to get inside.

Clutching the team's trophy under her left arm, Luan fumbled in her pocket for her house key. She finally found it and unlocked the front door, stepping inside, only to see her entire immediate family (sans Lori, Leni, and Luna) waiting for her. At her entry, they all exclaimed, "Congratulations!", and somebody blew on a noisemaker.

Luan blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Thanks so much, guys!"

Lynn walked over to her and inspected the trophy. "Ooh, that's a beauty. You gonna put that in the case?"

"No, it's not for me to keep. Mr. Williams said I could have it for the night, since I did so much in helping train the team."

"Neat. You wanna drink champagne out of it, like the Stanley Cup winners do?"

Both Mr. and Mrs. Loud replied, "Absolutely not," coupling the command with stern expressions.

Lynn shrugged and clarified, "I meant in a manner of speaking."

Lily ran over to her big sister and tugged on her skirt. "You did a good job! Can I hold it?"

With a faint smile, Luan shifted the trophy to one arm and ruffled her baby (well, not a baby any longer) sister's hair. "Sorry, Lils, but not right now."

Lola exclaimed, "We gotta take a picture of you with the trophy!"

Luan started to sidle towards the stairs, not wanting any more attention at the present time. "Uh... nothanksIwannagotobedrightnow-"

She was promptly caught by her sisters and dragged in front of the door.

All Luan wanted was some time alone, at peace, and now her family was going to fuss over her.

She pulled away from her siblings' grasp (not an easy task, considering the quantity of siblings that she had, even with three in college) and started to dart towards the stairs.

Lincoln blocked her path and said, his voice cracking from puberty, "Oh, come on! It's not every day that you get to pose with your own trophy!" He turned aside and added under his breath, "Of all people, I should know."

Luan harrumphed and gritted her teeth, relenting. It should be over soon enough, anyway, she assumed. And she did want to make her family happy.

Mrs. Loud took out her camera and snapped a couple of quick pictures of Luan holding the trophy, smiling.

Luan hoped that no one could tell how painful her smile was.

As soon as the photo shoot ended, Luan turned around and headed up the stairs, saying, "Uh, I'm tired. Gonna go to bed now. 'Bye!"

She darted around the corner and into her room before she could hear anyone's responses. Frankly, she didn't care to hear them.

Luan set the trophy down on her dresser and changed into her pajamas. Once she had finished, she collapsed onto her twin bed. (Her old bunk bed had been moved into Lana and Lola's room.) She allowed her thoughts to race through her head.

Oh man, the look on Jack's face was priceless when Mr. Wil-

Ugh. She had to stop calling him that. It had been four years already.

...when Rob gave her the trophy. He was so ticked off.

Well, frankly, Jack had done a lot for the team. He deserved it as much as, if not more than she did.

More than, honestly.

Jack worked long nights to write the skits. He was there every single night until midnight, planning and preparing.

And what did Luan do?

Not quite as much.

She went home around ten, because she wanted to finish her homework.

Fat lot of good that did, thanks to TVTropes.

She had to miss some practices because she wanted to watch her siblings' events. Luan truly enjoyed watching Lynn's hockey games (well, until she got a serious concussion) and Lisa's "Science Is Fun!" lectures and Lola's Junior Miss Royal Woods pageants (well, not really, but she could fake it pretty well) and Lincoln's occasional LARPing tournaments.

It was her obligation, even more so than it was for her to attend The Chuckle-Monkeys' sessions. Family was important to Luan.

But at the same time, she didn't deserve the trophy.

She didn't deserve any of her trophies, frankly.

What had Luan done to earn the regional win from a few years back? She hardly did anything, compared to some.

In another part of her brain, Luan knew that that wasn't true. She was there almost every day, working her tail off, trying to help her team. She practiced at home all the time, trying to come up with more puns.

But that didn't matter. To her, she wasn't trying her hardest.

And, while that might not have shown on the effort which she put into her English essays, Luan was a bit of a perfectionist.

It made her feel terrible almost all the time.

But it was normally more of a mental anxiety than a physical ailment. Right now, she had a knot in her stomach, a lump in her throat.

What use was she to anyone?

Luan simply lay on her side, staring at the window.

She was useless.

A thought suddenly made itself apparent in her head. It was one that had been there for a while but had been overlooked or ignored.

Maybe she should kill herself.

Luan mentally shook her head. No; she had already decided that it would be more of a punishment to continue living than it would be to simply die and alleviate all of her earthly pain.

But...

What if she hurt herself, instead?

Immediately, a counter-proposal popped up.

She wanted to talk to Luna.

She needed to talk to Luna.

She had to tell her about this.

Luna had been Luan's confidant since time immemorial. She had been the person whom Luan went to in order to divulge her secret crush on Benny. Luan explained to her how long it had been since it had begun and how she feared admitting it. Luan confided in her about how she wanted to give up her hopes of ever talking to him again. Luna was the only person in the world whom Luan trusted.

But now, when she needed her most, Luna wasn't there; she was studying mechanical engineering (and minoring in music theory) at Purdue University: the chicken school.

The desire to talk to Luna continued to pulse in the back of her mind, but other thoughts took the forefront.

It was actually a better alternative to committing suicide, in her mind.

How would she go about it?

She had a Swiss Army card in her desk. It had a small knife in it.

Step by step, Luan planned out exactly what she would do, Sherlock Holmes-style.

She couldn't cut her wrists. The scar would be too easily visible.

Her legs?

It was getting warmer. She couldn't wear pants all the time.

Her side?

Perfect.

But what about if she happened to go swimming?

She had a one-piece bathing suit. She'd be fine.

Luan slowly hoisted herself up from the bed and stood in the middle of the floor. She hesitated there for a few moments.

Just like she'd planned.

At the same time, she was in part stopping because of nerves.

But since when did she allow nerves to get in the way when she was committed to something?

She'd just have to get it over with.

Anyways, how much could it hurt?

Luan crossed the room to her door. She checked to make sure it was closed, then locked it for good measure.

She calmly walked to her desk. She reached into a compartment and pulled out her Swiss Army card. She took out the knife and laid the card on the desk surface.

Luan sat on her bed, knife in hand, and hesitated again.

Should she do it?

She wanted to.

But should she?

The desire to talk to Luna came back, pulsing more strongly than ever.

Luan pushed it aside and lifted up the hem of her shirt, exposing the skin above her left hip. She took the knife and laid it against her skin. It felt cool and not the slightest bit dangerous.

She dragged the knife across half an inch of skin, leaving a faint mark akin to that of a papercut.

Luan removed the knife and looked at her handiwork.

She didn't feel any pain.

She hadn't drawn blood.

She wanted to draw blood.

Luan pressed the knife to her skin again, where she thought she had started the cut, and dragged it again.

She did it again.

And again.

And again.

She didn't draw any blood, but she felt a weak yet invigorating pain.

She felt vaguely elated.

Luan set down her knife and looked at the wound again.

She squeezed it slightly.

The edges of the multiple layered incisions were red, but they didn't bleed.

She was slightly disappointed.

She hadn't pressed hard enough.

But it was enough. It made her hurt.

Luan carefully wiped the blade of the knife off on her shirt and covered up the mark. She got up and put the knife back in the Swiss Army card and put it back in her desk. She unlocked the door and got under the covers.

It was over now.

She could relax and be a little less displeased by her uselessness.

For once, she felt... what was the word? Content.

Luan wanted to try again.

Maybe she could make herself bleed next time.

The desire to talk to Luna came back, even stronger than before.

How Luan wished she could talk to her. Sometimes, she genuinely missed her sister and former roommate, no matter how obnoxious she got.

Luan felt scared.

Why did she feel so content?

Before she could contemplate the issue further, she fell asleep. She'd had a long day. The improv competition felt a million lifetimes ago.

I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to update, what with working on my other stories and having scheduling struggles. I'll try to update as quickly as possible.

See you soon!