Lincoln Loud groaned. His head hurt, his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going to puke. He tried to open his eyes, but they were gummed shut. He tried to sit, but his head spun, and he flopped back against the pillow. What happened? He tried to remember the previous night, but nothing came. Did he get beat up?

He ran the tip of his tongue along his cracked bottom lip and forced his eyes open: Warm morning sunshine fell through the window, stinging when it touched his tired orbs. He rolled onto his side, and started when he was met with a face.

Luna. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. She was dressed in her clothes from the night before, her jacket spread across her legs like a blanket. Her hands were folded between her cheek and the pillow; she looked like an angel.

Lincoln licked his lips. His heart was starting to pound the way it always did when he was around Luna. He tried to shove the rush of emotions away, but they came regardless, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her face.

Her soft, brown eyes fluttered open, and his breath caught. She smiled and stirred. "Hey, bro, how you feeling?"

"Uh...not so hot. What happened? What are you doing here?"

Her smile widened. "You got shitfaced last night."

Lincoln blinked. "I what?"

"You got drunk as a skunk." She stretched. "Someone gave you juice but it wasn't juice."

Wow...so this is what being drunk is like? Feeling sick and achy and not remembering what you did the night before? He didn't see the appeal.

"I crashed in here to make sure you were okay. I mean...we were just at an AC/DC concert, and you know how Bon Scott died."

Bon Scott, AC/DC's original lead singer, got drunk one night and passed out in the back seat of a friend's car. The friend left him overnight, and when he returned in the morning, Bon was dead...choked to death on his own vomit. Lincoln shuddered.

Luna sat up and looked down at him with a lazy smile. When she reached out and laid her warm palm on his cheek, Lincoln tensed. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She ran her fingers through his hair. "You want something to drink?" she asked tenderly.

"Y-Yes, please."

"Alright." She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she got up and left. When she was gone, Lincoln let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, guilt washing through him like dirty water. He knew it was wrong, but he was hopelessly in love with Luna, and had been for as long as he could remember. It's not uncommon, he had read, for a very young child to be 'in love' with a parent or a sibling, since children don't understand the difference between familial love and romantic love. When Lincoln was little, he loved Luna. When he was older, he loved Luna. Today, he loved Luna. He had always loved Luna, and he always would.

And it made him feel so dirty, because being in love with your sister is wrong, and every day that he didn't tell her, every day that he pretended just to be her brother and nothing more, was a lie. Their entire relationship was a lie. She had no idea how he really felt...all she saw was the lie, all she knew was the lie.

He would tell her...but what if she hated him for it? She didn't have to love him back...a part of him fully believed that she wouldn't...and he could deal with that, he thought. He could not deal with her hating him, or being distant, or awkward.

Momentarily, Luna returned with a glass of water and a couple aspirin. "Here," she said, handing them to him.

"Thanks," he replied. He tossed the pills into his mouth and then chased them with a big gulp. Luna watched him worriedly.

"Linc?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you...not tell anyone what happened?"

He chuckled. "Luna...I don't even remember what happened." Her eyes were anxious, and he offered her a smile. "I won't say anything."

"Thanks, bro."

"Did I have fun at least?"

A fond grin parted her lips. "I think so. You got up on your seat and started dancing."

"Oh, God," Lincoln groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He made a complete fool of himself...in front of the girl he loved. Smooth move, Ex-Lax. "I didn't piss myself, did I?"

"No, but you threw up in a urinal."

Lincoln bowed his head, his cheeks turning hot and red. Luna sensed his distress, and sat. "It was kind of fun," she said. She reached out to touch his arm, but thought better of it and drew her hand back. "On the walk back to the bus station you were singing AC/DC songs and fucking all the lyrics up." She surprised herself by giggling at the memory. Lincoln looked up at her, and she covered her hand with her mouth; she tried to stop but couldn't. What's wrong with me?

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, man, it's fine."

"No," he said, "I sound like I made an ass of myself and was probably a pain in the neck."

"You were fine...really." She reached out, stopped herself, then said screw it and patted his arm. Lincoln noticed her hesitation. She looked away. "Breakfast is almost ready if you're hungry."

The thought of food turned Lincoln's stomach.

Luna nodded. "Alright. I'll, uh, see you later then."

She got up and hurried out of the room.

Why was she acting so weird?

Luna Loud sat alone in her room, her guitar lying across her lap and a book of rock tabs open on the bed next to her: It was open to Shoot to Thrill. She chose it at random, and not because it was Lincoln's favorite song...or so she told herself.

She had been sitting there for nearly two hours. She would pluck the strings then lose track of what she was doing and woolgather. Her thoughts centered mainly on Lincoln and his confession of the previous night. When they got home and she helped him to bed, she stretched out next to him and stayed awake long into the small hours of the morning, trying to identify and name the conflicting emotions in her heart. She loved her brother, she really did – that hadn't changed and never would – but she wasn't in love with him. God, he was her brother! She watched him sleep, his face bathed in the silvery light of the moon, and her heart skipped a beat. She raked a hand through her hair and rolled onto her back with a sigh. No boy had ever said something like that to her, and she couldn't lie: It flattered her. It even made her a little...tingly in her stomach.

Should she...talk to him? Sound him out and see if he was telling the truth? Probably not; she really didn't want him to know she knew. She'll think I'm a pervert and hate me and I don't want that. It would kill me. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. Nah, man, I wouldn't hate you...I'd think you were confused, that's all. Seeing and being around pretty girls and feeling...something for them is normal, even if they are your sisters...just like it's normal to feel tingly after being told you're beautiful and perfect by a boy, even if he is your brother.

Right?

Of course. His feelings were misplaced, that's all. He thought he was in love with her when he really wasn't, he was just...I dunno...coming into his own as a boy. He liked girls and he was always around his sisters, so it would make sense that he would kind of think he liked one of them.

As for her...being told you're perfect by a boy is bound to make you feel something, especially when that boy is as sweet, kind, caring, intelligent, sensitive, giving, considerate, and handsome as Lincoln.

She blinked. Handsome?

Well...sure. Nothing wrong with thinking you're brother's handsome, is there? She thought Leni was pretty, so what? It didn't mean anything. And Lincoln was...well...perfect. He was everything she herself would want in a guy. Everything except his DNA...since it was the same as hers...

She needed to take a walk or something to clear her head. She got up and went out into the hall, her eyes instantly flicking to Lincoln's door. It was closed. Maybe she should check on him before she left...just to make sure he was okay. She started toward his room, but stopped herself. That probably wasn't the best idea in the world right now. Instead, she sighed and went downstairs. Lori and Leni were sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Lynn ran in backwards from the kitchen and pretended to catch a ball. Her feet tangled and, with wide eyes, she went down.

"And she wonders why her team keeps losing," Lori sighed without looking up from her phone.

"Hey, screw you," Lynn said, jumping to her feet. "I'm not the reason we keep losing. I'm the best player that team has."

"If that helps you sleep at night."

Lynn flashed Lori a middle finger and stormed out of the room in a huff.

Outside, the day was warm and sunny; the sky was clear and birds sang happily from full, green treetops. Luna took a deep breath that smelled like flowers and earth, and let it out slowly. Where should she go? The park? The river?

No particular place to go, she thought as she set off.

Just away from the thoughts...and the feelings they might create.

After making an appearance downstairs so no one would worry, Lincoln went back upstairs and stretched out on his bed. He still felt sick and headachy; he was hoping to fall back asleep for an hour or so, but his mind raced and his chest throbbed. He was thinking of Luna, naturally, more specifically, her face when he woke up that morning. There was something immensely satisfying about waking up next to the woman he loved. He ached with loss because she didn't love him back and probably never would, but the memory of her sunlit face, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted, made him smile nonetheless.

He should really do something to get her off his mind, because if he kept thinking of her, he was going to wind up not being able to think of anything else, and he would go through a rollercoaster of emotions: Happiness, sadness, joy, sorrow. Maybe he'd call Clyde and they could ride bikes or something. Or maybe Lucy needed help with a poem. Hey, Lincoln, what rhymes with "Cold, dead, black heart?"

He smiled at the thought. That Lucy...she was a character, alright. Just like Luna.

Ugh.

You're not supposed to be thinking about her, remember?

Right. Think about something else.

Like the fact you missed that AC/DC concert.

Yeah, that kind of made him mad. He was really looking forward to it. Did they play Shoot to Thrill? He bet they did...probably the best version ever...and he missed it because someone gave him juice that wasn't juice at all. Who does that? Here, kid, here's some booze. You'd have to be pretty sick to get off on getting little kids drunk and making them miss Shoot to Thrill. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to call up a memory of the night before – any memory – and, after some figurative straining and grunting, one came: Him falling off his seat and Luna catching him in her arms, her eyes wide with fear. Whoa, dude, take it easy! He smiled at the memory of being in her arms.

Aaaaaaand we're back to Luna. Perfect.

No other place I'd rather be.

Tears came to his eyes and he blotted them away with the heels of his palms. This was his every day: Thinking about Luna, trying to think about something else, and then linking it back to Luna like some sick game of Three Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Hey, that cat's name is Prince, like the singer. Prince wore purple. Like Luna. Wow, this new fabric softener made my undies really soft. Like Luna's eyes. Is this what hell felt like? Aching desperately for something you could never have? It had to be, and if it was...this was his hell. No need to die, buddy; you're already there.

He drew a cumbersome breath and let it out in a rush. She'd hate me if I told her...but I don't think I can go on like this...every day I die a little more...every day I see her face and hear her voice and it takes everything I have to pretend that I don't want to kiss her and hold her hand...and everything I have is getting less and less all the time. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at a golden shaft of sunshine streaming across the ceiling. He couldn't lose her, and if he told her how he felt, he might...he just might...and how could he survive after losing her? If he died a little bit every day now, he'd die all at once if he lost her, and he'd be dead for the rest of his life...dead in heart and soul...until one day he died in body, too. That thought scared him. He didn't want to die inside...slowly or quickly. He wanted to live...and to love...and to walk in the sun...with Luna by his side.

Like the song says, though, you can't always get what you want, and sometimes you have to not worry about what you want and worry about what's best. What he wanted was Luna to be his girlfriend...but what was best...

He didn't know...he just didn't know. He was so confused he could barely tell which way was up. He loved Luna as both a sister and something more...he wanted her heart and her hand...but he needed her period. He needed her light and her warmth and her love – in whatever form it came – he needed her as a friend and a mentor and...

And he needed her as a lover.

He sat up and ran his hand across his forehead. Had anyone seen him, they would have seen into the mouth of dejection.: The corners of his mouth were turned down in a frown, his eyes were misty, and his face was a sallow shade of misery. He hugged himself and sighed deeply. What should he do? Tell her? Not tell her? She was his sister...would she really hate him? And not only that...she was Luna, the most easygoing person in the whole world. She was unflappable.

Your little brother professing his love for you is enough to flap anyone, though, even his Luna.

That's a really heavy burden, knowing that your brother is hopelessly in love with you...knowing that every time you step out of your room he might be there...his shoulders slumped in defeat because you don't love him back, and it would kill you because you love him but not in that way...he couldn't do that to her.

That's if she didn't hate him and think he was a pervert. Her hating him was the best case scenario, because at least then her heart wouldn't be ripped to shreds every single day the way his was.

Maybe...

A knock sounded at the door, and he jumped. "W - ?"

The door opened and Luan popped her head in. "Hey, Linc can I – whoa, you okay? You look like shit." Her brows knitted with concern.

Ugh. He did not feel like socializing right now. "I'm fine," he moaned.

"You sure?" she asked, softening her tone. Before he could reply, she slipped into the room, shut the door, and came over to the bed. She sat and laid a worried hand on his knee. "If you need to talk, I'm here for you, Linc. Just say the word."

The earnestness in her voice and the tenderness in her eyes broke him, and he drew a watery breath. "I have a problem...and I need your help as a sister."

"Anything," she vowed.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. How much should he tell her? Certainly not all of it. He didn't feel the same way about Luan that he did Luna, but he did love her as a sister, and the thought of her hating him and thinking he was a pervert bothered him only marginally less than the thought of Luna hating him and thinking he was a pervert did.

"I...there's this girl I like..."

He half-expected her to smile or laugh or something, anything, instead she simply watched him. Then nodded for him to continue. "Well...she's older, and we're pretty, you know, cool with one another. I wanna tell her that I like her but I'm afraid she won't like me back and our friendship will suffer."

She waited a moment, then nodded slowly. "That's a tough one. If she doesn't like you back, it might change things between you...but let me ask you this: How much do you like her?"

"A lot."

"Do you find yourself thinking about her constantly?"

He couldn't meet her eyes as he nodded.

"Does every thought you have wind up going back to her?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"And does your tummy always feel kind of...achy?"

"Every waking moment. You've been here before, haven't you?"

Luna squeezed his knee. "Yes, I have."

He looked up at her. "And what did you do?"

Her eyes flicked down. "Nothing."

"Why?" he asked.

Luan sighed. "I don't know if you've noticed, Linc, but I'm ugly and I have a sense of humor that few people get. Maybe if it was one or the other, I'd be okay, but I have two strikes against me and who would want me?"

Lincoln gaped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're not ugly! And your sense of humor is great. It's..." he trailed off and tried to find the right word. "Charming. You're great."

She smiled warmly. "Thanks, Linc. I just...I don't have a lot of confidence in myself when it comes to boys, but I'll tell you what: The boy I liked...he moved away, and I regret not telling him how I felt every single day. We wouldn't be together, but...some things you have to get off your chest no matter what."

He let her words sink in, turning them over and over in his mind. He looked into her eyes and did indeed see a flicker of what might have been regret. "You're an amazing guy and she's luckier than she'll ever know that you like her. I say go for it."

"What if...what if she doesn't and our relationship changes?"

"Is she worth it?"

Lincoln blinked. "Worth it?"

"Is having her as your girlfriend worth it to you?"

"I'd do anything to be her boyfriend," Lincoln blurted.

Luan nodded. "Then she's worth it."

Lincoln called up a vision of Luna's face, her smile bright and her eyes warm, and he grinned. Was the possibility of having her worth the possibility of losing her, though? Part of him said that it was, but another part said that it wasn't, and right now, neither was winning out. He sorely wished he could tell Luan the truth...then maybe she could really help him.

Or sneer at him in disgust and storm off.

I'd do anything to be her boyfriend.

Was that the truth?

Yes, he thought, it was. He wanted her so badly it ached, but...

Sigh.

There was always a but. More buts than a Sir Mix-A-Lot video.

He had a lot to think about; if nothing else, Luan had at least helped him get his thoughts in order, and for that he was grateful.

"You good now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I'm good. Thank you for listening."

"Any time," she said, and drew him into a hug, "that's what big sisters are for."