LUNA'S POV

Vanzilla comes to a jerking halt outside Sam's house, and my eyes train over the building that I feel I entered only yesterday.

"I hope I'm not intruding on anything." I state dazedly, almost to myself. Lively light seeps from the windows of the house, bathing the lawn in delightful colors.

"I'm sure it's fine." Lori states. "But I'll be here if anything happens." I smile at my sister. "Thanks, Sis." I state as I exit the vehicle.

I stride purposefully down the front lawn and to the front door before I have second thoughts. I return my gaze to Lori, who makes a knocking gesture from inside Vanzilla.

Gulping, I once again turn towards the door, giving it a tentative rap. I stand there… and stand there... When it seems as if nobody heard me, I consider turning away, defeated. However, the muffled sound of approaching footsteps is heard on the other side of the door. The door swings open, and I come face to face with Mrs. Sharp. Her eyes light up upon seeing me, and she sweeps out her arms to accept an embrace.

I happily walk into the hug, relishing in the gentle rocking and cooing of Mrs. Sharp as she holds me. "Here, honey, come in, please." She says, moving aside to omit me.

I turn to Lori, flashing her a thumbs up in confirmation. She returns it, pulling out of the driveway and departing.

"Was that your sister?" Mrs. Sharp asks, placing a hand behind my back as she guides me into the house.

"Yes." I snort with amusement. "One of many." Mrs. Sharp chuckles before sighing exaggeratedly. "I look up to your mom." She states. "To birth that many children and then raise them." Mrs. Sharp exhales through her teeth. "She's very strong."

I nod moments before I hear the voice of my girlfriend from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, Luna, you're here. I was wondering who you were talking to, Mom."

As Sam descends the stairs slowly and purposefully, my heart flutters meekly in my chest. She's gorgeous. Yes, her outfit is the exact same as when I had seen her a half hour ago, as is her makeup. It finally comes clear to me; Sam has undergone no apparent change since I last saw her, but I allow myself to take in just how gorgeous she is.

I take a small step as I gaze thoughtfully into Sam's beautiful face. I watch as her features shift into… concern?

"Luna… you've been crying." Sam states upon meeting me at the foot of the stairs. I chuckle meekly, waving a dismissive hand. "How'd you guess?"

"I can just tell." Sam states, walking ever closer to me. She places her hands on my cheeks, gazing into my eyes. "Are you ok?" She whispers, and I nod.

"I'm fine, Sam. Don't worry about me." I say, much to Sam's evident concern. She hesitates briefly before removing her hands from my cheeks. "Alright… I won't." She states, clearly bottling down her concern.

"What are you doing here?" She then asks sweetly. "Did something happen?" I shake my head, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder in hopes of quelling her anxiety.

"Nothing to be concerned about. Just thought it'd be good to see you." I murmur, knowing that there's more to the story than what I just stated. Sam seems to understand my intention, for she nods her head before taking my hand and guiding me. "Here, let's go upstairs." She says.

It's my first time entering Sam's room, and I notice that-like my room-many rock posters adorn the walls. The walls are painted a baby blue, and a plush bed is located with its back against the wall. The made sheets and jumble of pillows invite me, and I sit down, sighing as I sink into the bedding. Sam throws me an exceptionally soft pillow that I hug to my chest gratefully. I quickly abandon the pillow, however, once Sam takes a seat beside me. Wrapping our arms around one another, we find solitude in the momentary silence.

"Talk to me." Sam finally whispers, though we're not at a risk of being heard. For a moment I'm silent; at a loss for words.

"I don't know what to say, Sam." Is what I reply. "Their return isn't the end of the world, but… they're advocating the exact opposite of what the Royal Rumble stands for… originality." I state, gesticulating to emphasize my point.

Sam nods in understanding, and I nestle all the more into her warm embrace. "I just feel like…" I sigh. "The reputation of the Royal Rumble falls into my hands, you know?"

For a moment, Sam doesn't speak, then she's slowly shaking her head. "No, Luna, our hands. You're not alone in this."

I gaze up into Sam's face. I feel the urge to cry, to laugh, to leap further into her embrace and tell her just how much I love her. I nuzzle up closer to her, relishing in the way she rocks the both of us gently.

"I love you so much, Sam. Remember that for another 70 years." I whisper, resting my head on her shoulder. "We'll be 87, in retirement after performing our entire lives. We'll be living in a small house with our five cats and three dogs."

Sam snorts at my statement, and I smile cheekily up at her. "What?" I ask, feigning innocence. Sam shakes her head, bottling down a laugh. "Oh, it's nothing. I just love you so much." She murmurs.

I blush at Sam's comment, planting a gentle kiss upon her cheek. "I love you, too."

I spend the remainder of the afternoon in the arms of Sam, the time seeming to whiz by of its own accord. The subject of Michelle and Doug is rarely brought up, much to my relief. Towards the end of my visit, Sam requests that I join her family for dinner, to which my face brightens with delight.

"Dude, I would kill for more of your mom's food. A-and your company, of course." I chuckle meekly, and Sam giggles. She kisses my pink cheeks gently. "We would love to have you." She murmurs thoughtfully.

I smile at the thought and text Lori our plan. Not long after, I get a confirmation text from my sister, followed by a "Dad is sad that you're missing his Wienerschnitzel tonight." I snort sarcastically, typing an equally sarcastic "well, I'm not", before retreating downstairs.

The scent of salty ham and cheese has my mouth watering. I enter the dining room just as Sam's mother does, carrying a large ham.

"Oh, Luna, darling. Make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready." Mrs. Sharp states, setting the dish on the table. I nod slowly, clearly my throat dryly before releasing a "Mrs. Sharp?" Mrs. Sharp turns from the dining room doorway flashing me a pleasant smile.

"Yes, dear?" She asks, and I gaze at the plethora of food on the table. "Do you need me to help? You know, with the preparation?" Mrs. Sharp's eyes crinkle as she smiles at me.

"Aw, honey, there's no need; we've got it covered." Mrs. Sharp coos. "Just have a seat."

I nod curtly, taking a seat at the table. Mrs. Sharp exits the room, and, listening keenly, I hear Mrs. Sharp address her daughter from the kitchen.

"Samantha, do you think Rita would mind if I stole her daughter?"

"Mom!"

I smile at the conversation, releasing a raspy chuckle. No sooner had I laughed than Simon was arriving downstairs. He's clearly taken aback by the dish being served for dinner.

"Ugh, mom, ham again?!" Simon whines, and Mrs. Sharp's voice issues faintly from the kitchen. "I'm sorry, honey. You know leftovers have to be eaten sooner or later."

Mrs. Sharp enters the dining room as she speaks, placing a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the table before dusting her hands on her apron.

"Wow, I've never heard of leftovers before." I chuckle sarcastically, and Mrs. Sharp provides me with a wide smile. Simon's face on the other hand, portrays nothing but sheer confusion.

"You have never heard of leftovers before? That doesn't make any sense." Simon states. "Simon, can't you detect sarcasm when you hear it?" My girlfriend's voice pipes up, and Sam enters the room. Harrumphing, Simon sticks his tongue out at Sam, and Sam returns it.

"Luna over here," Mrs. Sharp quickly pipes up to distract her two children. "Is one of eleven children."

If I thought Simon couldn't get any more amazed, I was so incredibly wrong. The young boy's jaw seems to drop, taken aback at the very idea of having more than one sibling.

"No way! How do you survive with that many siblings?" Simon gasps, and I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. "I'm barely surviving, little dude." I joke, flashing Sam a wink. She giggles.

"In my house," I snort gently with amusement. "There's no such thing as leftovers." More than anything, this is exaggeration. Truthfully, the Loud house still manages to create leftovers, but they quickly diminish within the day. I can't fathom the amount of times we've bickered over the last mac n' cheese bite or leftover minestrone.

"I'll bet." Mrs. Sharp replies, joining the three of us at the table. Dropping the conversation, we begin to eat. I am in no way disappointed with the meal. I even scold myself to chew slower, seeing how I act like a vacuum cleaner with the amount of food I'm inhaling at one time.

I survey the table, smiling at Sam who is seated right beside me. My gaze comes to rest on the head of the table where a vacant seat sits. Having not noticed it before, I remain gazing at it for a moment. It doesn't occur to me that anybody might be missing, if anything, it could just be an extra seat. However, a thought comes to mind that sends the gears turning in my head. Where is Sam's father?

I turn to my girlfriend again. She's laughing heartily at a comment her mother just made, and I smile upon seeing her express such happiness. The family seems content, so I choose not to bring the subject up.

I insist upon clearing the table after the meal, to which Mrs. Sharp politely declines. "Then, the dishes?" I question, already aware of Mrs. Sharp's answer. Of course, she shakes her head, running a hand through my short hair and kissing my forehead lovingly.

"Leave it all to me. You and Sam spend all the time you want together." Mrs. Sharp says. I smile, taking Sam's hand as we depart upstairs.