Hi, everyone, MarcellusMiro66 here! This is a Loud House short story and an extended AU version of Bouken Dutch 2.0's "Long Lost Loud" from Ronnie Anne's POV. The first part owes a lot to that story, but it later takes on a distinctive style as it progresses. Plagiarism is not permitted, but nobody said anything about homages, right? Also, a few narrative plot points may or not be adjusted here, so you can consider it a standalone sequel if you want.

Enjoy! If you can...

Part 1: "The Pointless Prologue"

It is now 22:45. I should probably get some sleep (my husband's already getting shuteye with the girl), but I can't. I know I have to, but I just...can't. Tomorrow is my 44th birthday and I expect my extended family to throw me a great big celebration in spite of their efforts to keep it secret and under wraps. This birthday celebration will allow me to live up to my maiden name: Santiago. For the first time in almost eight years, members of the family (excluding my deceased grandparents) will be in the same place again. Yes, even my mother and her new husband are traveling from their California condo. They practically insisted on being there to see their only daughter turn 44 even though they were in their 60's. Along with everyone's husbands and children, we expect close to 45 or even 55 people...yes, even the family who caused mine pain for almost three decades.

They're also the reason for no sleep kicking in high gear for me right now. Not on a particular moment like this. These moments are the ones my mind can linger on the one person who won't be there, no exceptions whatsoever. My best friend. My only friend. My only love. Lincoln Loud. So here I am, sitting in my living room holding one of the rare pictures left of him: a picture of the both of us from when we were 11. It was at the age when he vanished from our hometown, his family, and my life forever.

You want to know the story? Well, get settled; this one spans a total of 33 years. Mostly...

Lincoln Loud was your typical preteen with your typical male-dominated interests such as video games, online games, comic books and manga. However, he was actually pretty unique. First, he was the only boy out of the 11 sisters he had (whether or not it was just a coincidence, it remains a mystery to this day). Second, he had hair white as snow; it was an unusual condition that affected many men on his mom's side of the family. Third, his primary talent was unclear. While all of his sisters had our own individual skills and won several prizes because of them, Lincoln was a more complex case complicated to crack; he helped us with everything we did, but it was never good enough to win a prize of his own, let alone a trophy. I remembered how he would talk about the family trophy case, but he would always assert that he was just happy for his sisters.

And they believed him.

I believed him.

It was because of this that, for being basically the only family member with time on his hands, Lincoln was pretty much dragged into all of their activities. It gradually got worse, and the poor boy had barely any time for himself anymore as a result; the drastic increase in his sister's recreational activities didn't help matters. Of course, the ultimate and most infamous breaking point arrived in March 2017, where – after one too many days of family activity attendances – he attempted to avoid going to a baseball game of Lynn's, but she caught him in the act and basically forced him into coming. With a fucking baseball bat.

And that was where things went downhill real fast.

It pains me to this very day when I think of it. I was completely unable to help and comfort Lincoln in his time of need. Worse still, I never even knew the full story until it was too late. The short version? Lynn lost and, superstitious as she was, blamed it on Lincoln being bad luck. The long version? Lynn lost, blamed Lincoln for being bad luck, and unknowingly instigated a series of unfortunate events that led to my one friend reported missing (more on that latter). He must've saw an opportunity right there to get some free time because he virtually assisted in spreading the rumor, even going so far as to break one of Lori's golf clubs. Of course, in her fairness, she knew right away that this bad luck ruse was nothing but a sham and only went along with it to teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, the rumor soon spread like wildfire and his family began to eschew Lincoln as a whole. From the family activities that he really wanted to attend to the dinner table and, finally, the house itself. Yes, you heard that right. Lincoln's parents, a kind couple who ironically swore never to kick out any of their own kin, actually forced their one and only son to sleep outside like a homeless hobo. Making things worse was the fact they even sold pretty much all of his belongings, fearing they were affected with his bad luck.

The cherry on the sundae? I could do nothing but watch.

Watch as his entire life fall apart before my very eyes.

The following day, Lynn had yet another game, but this time Lincoln secretly attended in a squirrel mascot costume in an effort to dispel the lie of him being bad luck. Lynn won, Lincoln's plan worked, and knowingly began to think of him as good luck. As did the entire family, but only if he wore the suit.

In the three weeks that followed, a squirrel suit-donning Lincoln was treated as nothing more than a good luck charm. Every day and every night, the costume was worn, even if it was beginning to show its age and smell. The only time he didn't was during school, but that meant they would avoid him in school out of fear for his bad luck. For the rest, he was required to attend every single big event me or my sisters participated in again (Lynn's games, Lola's pageants, Lisa's lectures, etc.) under the repeated warning that it was back outside for him should he ever dare to take the suit off at the given opportunity. As time went on, however, Lincoln had quite visibly changed for the worst. No smiles, no words, and no empathy. He only spoke when spoken to. The three sisters who actually gave a shit (Leni, Luna, and Lana) voiced their concerns on multiple occasions, but they continuously brushed them aside. Now they wished that they had listened to them then, and they hate themselves for taking part in it at all. They might have been able to prevent what happened at the end of the third week. Third time's the charm, right?

Honestly, after everything that's happened...who wouldn't hate them?

Anyway, the third week was when his family planned to go on a Dairy Land daytrip. The evening before the day they left, Lincoln suddenly showed up in the living room, carrying the suit but not wearing it. Lynn, his dad and some of our sisters (Luan and Lucy included) immediately demanded he put the suit back on, but this time Lincoln refused.

"This has gone on long enough. I'm not bad luck or good luck, and you know it." Lori could remember him saying, after which he basically begged if we could stop this madness. Before his parents could even get a word out, Lynn leaped forward, shoved Lincoln back towards the stairs, and screamed at him the two options he had: "Put the suit on now...or don't come tomorrow." Gritting his teeth and reddening his cheeks, Lincoln took a third option instead. He took a deep breath, turned towards them and asked one last time if he could please come without having to wear the suit. When Mom reluctantly said no, Lincoln picked up the suit and walked up the stairs with it. Halfway through, he glanced over his shoulder and spoke only three last words.

"Have fun tomorrow."

He seemed...resigned.

Something in his voice indicated something wrong, and the look in his eyes should've them off. It was the look he always got when he had come up with one of his schemes. Then, after marching up to his room, he slammed the door behind him. And for them, it was the last time any of them saw Lincoln...even if they didn't realize it then.

How do I know all of this? Well, it's simple.

"Whori" told me the entire story from scratch.

(~****~)

The entire day I secluded myself in my room, avoiding my concerned brother and mother. Bobby was the one person besides her (my mother) and Lincoln who knew me better than anyone else, so naturally his big brother instinct came into play. When asked what was troubling me, the white-haired boy's name was the first thing that left my mouth. Clearly confused, he asked again, this time to elaborate. I explained that from what I knew, Lincoln was clearly not on good terms with his family as of the moment, all because of something involving him being a good luck or bad luck charm...or something like that. Bobby's own reactions to the reason for my issues were mixed at best, but concerns grew from the assumption that Lori may be in on the scam. Worried for me (as any older brother would or should), he promised to look into this, but not now; he had work to do.

As for myself, I was pretty much tired at this point, so I decided to take a nap and sleep the hours away. Little did I know (until I woke up, at least), I actually slept until dinner time. In the hours that passed, Bobby had actually discovered something: neither the family nor Lincoln himself were home, but so wasn't any memorabilia of the boy whom he considered a brother. He took me to the current empty house so I could investigate myself. Unlocking the front door with my decent paperclip techniques, I pushed it open and sprinted upstairs to the second floor. What I found shocked me almost to my very core.

The door to Lincoln's room was boarded up and bound with hazard tape. In the center was a note that read, quote: "Sorry, Lincoln, but you can't sleep here tonight. We can't just risk it." Amazingly enough, it was as if the rising anger allowed me to literally tear off the restraints that prevented me from entering, because that's just what happened. Of course, what I found inside didn't help matters.

The room was utterly empty. True to Bobby's words, not only was Lincoln not there, but what little remained of his personal belongings was completely gone as well. It was nothing but just a bare closet. Did Lincoln actually sleep in here? I heard my own gasp of shock escape my very mouth as I raced downstairs. At the same time, I noticed the trophy cabinet that Lincoln had repeatedly mentioned before had likewise been tampered with, namely the section which was reserved for his trophies. The small "Most Improved Brother" trophy his sisters made for him was gone, and so was Lincoln's name tag. It was now replaced with a nametag labeled "Rita and Lynn, Sr." and contained some of his dad's cooking prizes and his mom's writing awards.

The next few minutes were a doozy of a daze. I was wondering if this wasn't some cruel nightmare. As I stumbled downstairs, on the wall was a family photo for his parent's wedding anniversary earlier that year. Nothing seemed to be wrong...at first glance. The second glance was one I really took notice: a hole in the shape of Lincoln was where he used to be, carefully cut out of the picture.

As far as I can tell...every and any piece of evidence that Lincoln lived in the house had vanished.

My nose suddenly wrinkled at the smell of a presumed barbeque taking place right outside in the backyard. Heading in that direction to inspect it, I found a huge scorch mark and a pile of grey ash in the center of it all. A pair of cracked glass eyes stared right back at me in the pit of ashes. I knew they looked familiar the moment I plucked them out of the fireplace. They were undoubtedly the empty eyes of the squirrel suit.

Suddenly, a Pitbull Terrier dog with small ears, a small nose, a black spot over his left eye, freckles and a black concentric circle on his back ran out of his doghouse carrying a burnt yet intact journal in his mouth. I recognized the dog as Charles, but what was the notebook he had? Placing it down at my feet, I picked up and opened it, identifying the logbook as Lincoln's own. Marching over to the stairs of the back porch with Charles in tow, I began to read.

I suddenly got to see a whole different side of the boy I loved and cared for as the surviving pages of the fire were read. The happy carefree brother/son of the Loud Family who also served as the go-to man with a plan turned out to have been suffering from depression and a severe case of the inferiority complex for approximately two years now. What finally pushed him over the edge had to be this bad luck/good luck fiasco, but it was just the tip of the iceberg overall. Unsurprisingly (to me, at least), being the only boy in the family made him feel like an outsider, a reject, and a social pariah coupled with the drastically growing feelings of inadequacy. There was also a page about something called a sister fight protocol, which involved confiscating his room, forcing him to sleep under dirty laundry, telling him that he solved everything by leaving the house, and most of all us ignoring him for a total of two weeks afterwards because he accidentally reignited the fight. I didn't like that so-called policy. Not one bit. The word "SISTER" should've rang warning bells in their thick heads.

I can recall the final page's quote even after all those years:

This is it. I just gave them their last chance to accept me back in the family, and they refused. Guess they indeed finally realized what I myself have known for a long time; that I'm a burden to this family, and they are all better off without me. Well, if I'm going to be evicted from this family, then it better be on my own terms. Tomorrow morning, after they leave for Dairy land, I will put operation 'permanently-erase-myself-from-this-house-and-this-family-and-disappear-for-good-and-also-think-of-a-shorter-name-for-this-operation' into action.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this down, since I'm going to burn this book along with the rest. Force of habit, I guess. But it doesn't matter, because after tomorrow, Lincoln Loud no longer exists!

Knowing what must be done, I bid Charles goodbye (I don't know, probably out of pity) and met with Bobby outside. I told him to immediately call the police after explaining everything I found: from the boarded-up door and the missing piece of the family photo to the incinerated squirrel suit and the journal that belonged to Lincoln. Following a moment's notice of hesitation, Bobby did just that as we both entered the car. All of a sudden, my eyes began to water up, and the cramping feeling boiling in my stomach for some time was one of despair and worry. It was a feeling that didn't go unnoticed by my brother, who – upon parking in the driveway of our house – pulled me into a hug. Being only a child at the time, I embraced him.

The next day, my mother visited the police station with her father (our grandfather) in attendance. We spent two hours there and the detectives in charge concluded that – judging by the way Lincoln had the decency to actively prepare and think out his runaway situation – this would be no other case, as most children were ill-prepared in the heat of the moment. As a result, they didn't get that far with no leads whatsoever; they could only assume that he was no longer in Royal Woods, or even in the state of Michigan. All we could do now – as the AMBER Alert was sent out to every corner of the state – was sit, hope, and...pray.

I doubted God would answer our prayers or even mine, for Lincoln never came back.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

Months become years.

No trace was detected.

I stood, doubted, and...cursed.

Lincoln was gone. Gone and never to be found.

Not that the others cared anyway (at first).