You are an obsession
I cannot sleep
I am your possession
Unopened at your feet
There's no balance
No equality
Be still I will not accept defeat

- Animotion

Heart beats silly like a big bass drum
Losing all equilibrium
It's so hard in the middle of the week
Maybe this woman's just all I need

- Rod Stewart

He was cracking up.

That's what happened when you put pressure on something for too long, it started to crack. That was him. Clyde McBride. Hiya. Pleased to meet ya.

When the murky morning light crept into his room on December 15, he was awake, his eyes wide open. He was sure he fell asleep last night, but he couldn't remember doing so, and, come to think of it, he couldn't remember waking up. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn't. He never could when he was up with the dawn.

Resigned, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was already beginning to race. Great. He reached under his mattress and slipped the Polaroid out. He sat it in his lap, upside down, and took a deep breath. He did this every morning. It was a game. See how long he could last before turning it over. His best time was five minutes, fifty-eight seconds. The date was July 7, 2017.

Closing his eyes, he began counting.

1...

Lori appeared in his mind, a smile on her face.

2...

Now she was standing over him, her arms crossed, a look of annoyance on her face. God, she was beautiful when she was irritated.

3...

He heard her voice, and opened his eyes.

Not real. Just imagination. He had a very vivid imagination. You had to when you were alone and loved a woman who didn't love you. Lincoln was lucky. He had ten sisters to keep him company. Aside from his parents, Clyde McBride was alone. The house was quiet, like a library, perfectly posed, like a museum. Sometimes he sat on the posh leather sofa and looked around himself, willing the place to feel like home, but it rarely did. It wasn't his parents' fault. They did the best they could by him. He realized that. That didn't alleviate his crushing loneliness, however. Nothing did. Except for staying the night at the Loud house.

He liked it there, and not just because Lori lived there. He liked the noise, the chaos, the very presence of other kids. He could feel it as soon as he walked in. It was an energy in the air. It invigorated him. Here, with his fathers, he was sedated. He was in bed by eight and during the day he dragged as though his bones were made of concrete. Sometimes he fell asleep sitting on the couch after school. He'd bound through the door, crackling with electricity, but as soon as he stepped through the threshold, the house drained it away like a vampire. He'd sit down, and within moments he'd nod off.

His dads worried, and that bothered him. He tried to be the best son he could; he wanted to make them see how much he appreciated them adopting him...he wanted to make them happy so they'd never take him back to the orphanage. But day in and day out, he failed them. He was surprised they hadn't taken him back already. He wouldn't blame them if they did, just like he didn't blame his mother for giving him up in the first place.

25...

Dr. Lopez said he had abandonment issues. Well, yeah. When you can't trust the woman who gave birth to you, who can you trust?

Your fathers, Dr. Lopez said once.

No, he replied, not even them. He wasn't their flesh and blood, and when someone isn't your flesh and blood, can you love them unconditionally? Really love them?

28...

His heart was beginning to race. His palms were sweaty. He expected the hammer to drop at any time. All day, every day, he scurried along, shoulders hunched, ducking at every sound, certain that when he turned, his fathers would be there with his bags, ready to take him back to the orphanage. How he would beg and plead. No, don't take me back, I'll do better, I swear. I'll stop being weird and having issues. Just don't make me go back. Please.

30...

He flipped the photo over, his hands trembling. Lori Loud stared back at him, a smile on her face and a light in her eyes. Clyde's heartbeat slowed, and his stomach ached. Looking at Lori...it made everything better. Sure, it made him feel hollow on the inside (after a while) because he knew he would never have her, but he'd rather be empty than filled with gnawing worry.

Sighing, he traced his finger along her face. What he wouldn't give to have her, though.

He looked up from the picture and glanced out the window. The sky was gray and leaden. He got up, went to the window, and stared out. It was a mile and a half from his house to hers. He couldn't see it from here, but sometimes, he thought, if he squinted, he would see her. He never did. But every day was a new day.

What time is it? He checked his phone. 6:30. He'd text Lincoln at eight and see if he could come over. He wanted to see Lori, true, but he also wanted to see Lincoln. Lincoln hadn't had much time for him over the past couple of months, which didn't entirely surprise Clyde; everyone got sick of him eventually. Still, it hurt. Lincoln was his best friend. Or had been. Now he had no one.

What's new there?

He turned away from the window and took a deep breath.

Hey, Lori.

Oh, hi. Clyde.

How you doing?

*Giggle* Good, you?

He blinked and tried to steady his mind.

McBride! What did the five fingers say to the face?

I don't know, what?

SLAP!

Oh, and they laughed. Every single one of them. A massive group of orphans standing around him, faces blank and eyes dead, pointing. He got to his knees and whipped around. They were everywhere. He pressed his hands against his head and screamed. Stop! Stop laughing at me!

McBride!

It was Sister Michelle. He was back in the little classroom that haunted his dreams. The nun loomed over him, her face hard and her arms crossed.

"I'm sorry," Clyde muttered in the here and now.

Unmoved, the phantom lifted a ruler and brought it down on his knuckles.

Whack!

He jumped and tripped over his feet. He was panting. His heart thundered. He lay there for a long time, trying to catch his breath and willing the voices echoing through his head to leave him alone. Finally, silence reigned. When Harold knocked on his door, he was sitting placidly in bed, staring at the wall, the picture of Lori clutched in his hand. He jerked and shoved it under the covers.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, son, are you up?"

"Yeah, dad!" Clyde called back.

"Okay. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Okay."

His heart was beating fast again. Not this time, but maybe next, or the time after that. One day Harold would come in and sit on the edge of his bed and casually explain that they were taking him back. I'm sorry, Clyde, but it's just not working out. You're too much of a burden.

Clyde could see it so vividly that it might as well have been happening then and there.

I'm sorry. I'll do better.

It's not that easy, Clyde. You're damaged beyond repair. We've already spent so much on your doctor bills. Not to mention your medication. Your anxiety isn't getting any better.

At the dining room table, Clyde picked at his food; the only thing he ate all of was the avocado on toast. He liked that.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Howard asked, shattering the suffocating stillness.

"Okay," Clyde said easily. He had gotten good at lying.

"That's good. No nightmares?"

"Nope, just peaceful, unbroken slumber."

"Good," Howard said, looking pleased.

"Do you have any plans today, Clyde?" Harold asked.

"I was going to see if Lincoln wanted to hang out."

"How is Lincoln?" Howard asked. "I haven't seen much of him lately."

"He's okay, he just has a lot of stuff going on." Clyde hoped his fathers wouldn't press him and make him cover for Lincoln. He also hoped they wouldn't look at him with pity. We know he's sick of you. And frankly, so are we.

After breakfast, he sent a text to Lincoln and sat on his bed. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. He was impatient and on the verge of tears when Lincoln finally got back to him an hour later.

"Sry cant hang out going Christmas shopping."

"Ok. After?"

"Maybe."

Clyde drew a heavy breath and sat the phone down. He wiped a tear away from his eye and steeled his mind against the thoughts that were sure to come.

He doesn't like you anymore. He has a new best friend. He wants you to leave him alone but he's too nice to say so.

When Clyde felt his breath getting short, he pulled out the picture of Lori and looked at it. She was so beautiful, like an angel.

He had to see her. Lincoln...pfft, fuck Lincoln.

He dressed in a heavy coat and pulled his tennis shoes. In the living room, his parents were snuggled on the couch watching daytime TV. "I'm going over to Lincoln's," he said as he headed for the door.

"Okay," Howard said, "have fun."

"And be safe," Harold added.

"I will."

Outside, a cold wind blew, nearly ripping the door from his hands. Frozen grass crunched underfoot. The houses along the sidewalk were dark and shuddered, which made Clyde nervous. By the time he was getting onto his bike, he was sure he was being watched. He fought against growing panic, forcing himself to move slowly, normally. By the time he was riding away, he knew he was being watched, and he started pedaling faster, his heart crashing. He sailed through the December morning, the fridget wind numbing his face. When he reached the Loud house fifteen minutes later, his entire body was frozen, and he was looking forward to going inside and having a cup of cocoa.

There was one problem, though.

The van wasn't in the driveway.

Christmas shopping.

Well, that was a lie. Clyde was certain of that.

He parked his bike along the side of the house and went to the front door, where he rang the bell. He heard it echo through the house.

No one came.

He rang it three more times before giving up and going around back. He knocked on the sliding glass door but, again, no one came.

Frustrated, he walked backwards and looked up at the windows overlooking the backyard. No lights shone. Were they really hiding from him with the lights off?

They're Christmas shopping. And probably grocery shopping for the storm.

Clyde took a deep breath. Lincoln wasn't lying to him. He needed to loosen up.

Shaking his head sadly, he started back around front but froze. Was it his imagination, or did that curtain flutter? He watched it for a long time, but it didn't move again.

He climbed onto his bike and rode away. Later, he texted Luna.

"Hey, where are you guys?"

"The mall," she responded in ten minutes.

"Cool. So am I."

Well, no, he wasn't, but twenty minutes later he was. He parked his bike and went inside, fighting his way through throngs of holiday shoppers. Christmas music seasoned the air.

He saw Lynn outside Sports Locker, then Ronnie Anne (at least he thought it was) walking toward the food court. He didn't see Lori, though, and his heart sank. He had to see her. He had to hear her voice and smell her scent.

"Hey, Clyde!"

Clyde started. Luan was coming toward him through the crowd, waving, a smile on her face.

You're not the Loud I'm looking for.

"H-Hi, Luan."

"Shopping for your dads?"

"Yeah, just a little shopping." He smiled.

Luan raised an eyebrow. "Well...good luck. This place is a madhouse."

Clyde counted to five, then turned around and followed her, hanging back so she wouldn't see him. At the food court, he saw the other Louds. There, by the door, texting, was Lori. His heart stopped in his chest and his stomach bounced. He ducked behind a column and watched her, caressing her soft face with his eyes. Luan turned and saw him, but he didn't care. Lori, Lori, Lori...

She kept staring, and he stepped behind the column.

He counted to fifty and looked again.

They were gone.