Sick. Lincoln thought he already knew what that meant. It meant being affected by an illness, physical or mental. But why? Why had this changed? Why did he feel sick now? He wasn't ill. He knew he wasn't ill.
But deep down he knew why. He had only ever felt sick this way twice in his life: once when his parents kicked him out of the house, and the other when his girlfriend left him with their child to pursue fame. But he never felt it this intensely. Never this intensely.
He called his work about it. He couldn't work for a while. He was sick. At least that's what he told them. He didn't want to go into detail about why or how. It was already enough that he had to know, god forbid he tell other people.
His work accepted it of course, he hardly ever took days off. Three years without so much as a bump in his work ethic. He was in the art business, comic books mostly. Although that's all the information anyone would get from him. He didn't like talking about things much anymore.
Ever since the sickness started, he would sit in his bed thinking. Never about anything in particular. Just stuff. His childhood, what he'd have for dinner, where did he leave his car keys, maybe he should just get up & play Halo.
But he wouldn't get up. Three days and three nights he would lay in bed, never sleeping, at least never any longer than an hour or two at a time, and never getting up for anything other than a drink of water or to use the toilet. By the second night he was already smelling like a sewer.
By the third night he finally got up to make himself some cereal, numb to the fact that the milk had gone bad. He was stunned to see it had been three days. Eventually he felt the tears fall down his face. It didn't even feel like he was crying. His eyes were just leaking. At about halfway through finishing his muesli did he break down.
The funeral was held on a Thursday.
Friends & family had come out from the woodwork to see her off. Her final goodbye. Her final song. Ironically the song being played was a song by SMOOCH. His favorite band. At least his favorite twelve years ago. He'd gotten more into reggae lately, a lot of Bob Marley.
It still didn't change from the fact that it broke his heart.
The entire service was a blur to him. Even his parents were there, although they never said a word to him. The only solace of interaction between them was his father looking at him with a smile & a nod before consoling his wife. His mother had been bawling her eyes out. Lincoln wondered why though. She never loved her, so why was she shedding tears for her?
Every time he looked down to the funeral transcript, he could feel his stomach tying in knots. The writing was in green.
In fucking green.
His angel wouldn't be caught dead with anything to do with green.
Oh.
He wanted to rip the thing to shreds. But every time he looked down, he saw the photo they'd picked out for her. Her beautiful chestnut locks, her adorable brown eyes. He looked down to the writing once again.
'In Loving Memory of Luna Loud'
He wasn't ill, but Lincoln felt sick.
Lemy's mother was a strange woman, but he loved her all the same. She was his hero, his mentor, his loving mother. Although Lyra never seemed to see it that way. His big sister always had a way of ruining things.
The boy was always trying to impress his mother. She would always say he could be anything he wanted to be. But the only thing he wanted to be was like his mother.
A rock-star.
And to Luna, he was always her little rock-star. And Lyra was always her little rockette.
Lyra would say that was sexist.
Lemy didn't know what that meant.
Lyra was a stickler. One of the worst in the world. It was always, 'Don't chew with your mouth open Lem', or 'You have to bathe at least once a day'. And then there was the situation with that stupid book of hers.
She was always quoting that book.
She had this odd habit of checking for it in every motel they stayed in, and at every meal they took she was always talking about this girl named 'Grace'.
'We must say grace before we eat Lem'. Why did he have to talk about this girl before he ate? It wasn't her food, so why don't they say 'Lemy' before they ate? That made more sense than Grace.
Things only got worse with Lyra the night their mother disappeared.
For two days they waited. Two days in the hotel, wondering… worrying… something must have gone wrong.
Something did go wrong.
Lyra didn't say much about it, but he knew that they weren't going to be seeing their mother anymore.
She had gone to a better place, as Lyra put it.
To start with he wondered, what would be a better place than being with your kids or rocking out on stage. But he wasn't totally stupid. He figured it out soon enough. He wished he didn't. The funeral was one of the worst places he had ever been to. He hated it. He hated being up on the podium, talking about how great his mother had been. He didn't like the idea that his mom wasn't listening to him cherish her. He just wanted one more hug. One more tuck in. One more jam session. One more something. It definitely wouldn't be enough time, but at least he could say goodbye properly.
Lyra didn't let a single thing get past to her brother about the fate of their mother. She was emotionally numb after the incident. It was hard enough for her, if Lemy knew the truth it would break his innocence. Ruin his childhood.
Destroy him.
She wouldn't do that. Not to him. Not to Lemy. He didn't deserve this.
Just the thought of it made her angry. Made her angry at herself, at the world. But yet, that was nothing compared to the fury she felt for her mother. She was never the responsible one. It always fell towards her to get things done. To wash their clothes; including her mother's. To eat healthily. To exercise. And Lyra loathed exercise. She assumed she inherited that from her father.
That got her thinking. How was her father? She hadn't seen him for over twelve years, she began to wonder what he'd been doing now. She only remembered two things about her father, one was his quiet nature, the other was his white hair.
Just like her Uncle.
Her uncle was the only real man in their lives, Lyra thought. She would even say that Lemy would agree, & he had the band members on deity status. He was a self-sustaining man. He paid taxes & he was a part of the community.
Their mother's band were more of travelling gypsies than members of a whole.
Until the recent death of their mother, she dreamt of living in a community, going to church, & living with her mother & unknown father. As a normal American family.
Now all she could think of was how much she was going to miss her old life.
Her dream had come true… sort of…
Her mother had always told her & her brother that, should anything happen to her, they would go live with their father. Lemy always got angry at her whenever she spoke so cynically. Now it just felt like a foreboding horror that was always meant to be. The idea of change terrified her.
But for now, all she could do was stare at the casket, holding her brother's hand for comfort. But she kept on telling herself it was for his benefit, that she was comforting him. Even he knew that she was doing it for herself.
They both stared at the casket that held their mother. Lyra could only think that this would have been inevitable. Overdosing usually is when the individual is an addict. It still hurt to think about though.
Her mind only went back. Back to the second day in that confined space that was a motel. Watching the news. Finding out about her poor mother, & switching the TV off as soon as Lemy strolled into the room from the bathroom. Had he heard? She had to tell him if not.
But she would leave out the Heroin.
The bandmates pulled them out of that godforsaken hotel. She prayed day & night that it was all a dream. That she'd wake up.
That her mom was still alive.
She approached the coffin, along with her closest friends & relatives. Her backup singer, bassist & best friend Sam Sharp, the manager & long-time companion, Chester Monk, her sister & favorite comedian Luan Loud, all approaching the coffin as it was lowered.
One last face approached the coffin. Lincoln Loud. Their uncle. She didn't think he was as close as the rest, but she would ask more of it later. He looked her way & had a look of familial love, as melancholy as it appeared. She should probably talk to him, one last time before they were taken to god knows where to meet their father. It baffled her that he hadn't shown up. The only white-haired man she could see in the crowd that showed up was her uncle's. Right now, she'd prefer to live with him.
'And now, we leave Luna to her everlasting peace'
As the coffin lowered, Lincoln was the first of the pack to leave. This tended to be his attitude towards things as of late. He was an introverted geek. Whenever emotion became too much for him, he would try his best to leave the situation. Which is why he was currently outside smoking cigarettes with Clyde McBride, his long time best friend, who'd made a surprise appearance to the funeral.
'Want one?' He offered for what was most likely the eighteenth time. Clyde, however, quickly realized what the phrase was really code for.
'It get's better man' he pointed out, noting his father, Harold's sudden death at the age of forty-eight.
'Scars never leave, but they fade'
For some reason, this helped Lincoln's depression. He needed this. Something to remove the deafening silence. He looked up to the sky, to wonder why god would take away such a treasure to the world. God responded with rain; slow at first, then hard. Dousing his cigarette. Maybe this was a sign to quit smoking.
He doubted he'd listen.
Lyra fiddled with a Rubik's cube left on the table, while Lemy played his video game, some remake of a fantasy game made over twenty years prior. Lyra originally thought it tainted the name of god, being some game about paganistic rituals & shouting like a dragon. Needless to say, their mother allowed him to play it. Although now, she didn't have the heart to stop him from playing.
'Lemy, stop fidgeting' that didn't stop her from exercising her other big sisterly duties.
They were currently waiting in the office of some big name lawyer who had read off their mother's will. The unnamed father of both Lemy & Lyra? He got the majority of the money. She asked for it to be used to take care of the both of them. A grand sum of three million dollars, to the unnamed white haired man. Lyra would never curse, but knowing this man was going to sweep her and her brother off their feet put fire into her belly. He could go to hell for all she cared.
It was a new situation to Lemy. He had no clue who his father was, he just assumed it was the same as Lyra's, only to be told that it was definitely true. He strangely felt closer to his sister. But what really bothered him was this father himself. If he thought he could just walk in & replace his mother, he had another thing coming to him. A massive kick to the balls.
But his thoughts always drifted to his hero. His mother. Sitting on her lap, being read to. Lemy wasn't the smartest kid, in fact, he was pretty sure he was stupid. But that didn't subtract from the fact he could pick out whether or not someone was a bad egg. And this father of his? Was most definitely a bad egg. And he hadn't even met the guy yet. But all he could really do was try and remove his mind from the situation. And what better way to do that than playing video games?
The fancy lawyer had left several minutes beforehand, said something about dealing with another case, although Lemy was pretty sure she just didn't want to take care of any children for the few minutes it took for their father to turn up. What a bitch.
If Lyra caught wind of him saying that, he would be at the bad end of a lecture.
On the other hand, Lyra was too respectful to think any bad thoughts about the lawyer. She's a busy woman obviously. She was disrupted from her thoughts by the door opening. Their uncle, of all people, had made his way into the lawyer's office.
'Hey kids' he spoke, with a somewhat deep, melancholy demeanor. Something one would expect from someone who doesn't have much interaction with people.
'Hey, who's the old man?' Lemy spoke, only to earn a glare from Lyra as she got up to hug her uncle.
'He's our Uncle, Lemy. Now come & say hi' Lyra said, as she got up to hug her estranged relative. She wasn't in the mood for any emotions today, she just wanted to meet her dad & go home to sleep for however long it took for her depression to go away.
'Hi' Lemy spoke simply before going back to his game.
After several awkward minutes of waiting, the lawyer finally came back into the office.
'Ah, Mr. Loud! You've already decided to join us!'
'Uh… yeah' the man said, as simply as the boy who sat near him.
'Well… I suppose we should get started then!'
Lyra, incredibly confused, spoke up.
'W-wait… aren't we meant to be waiting for our father?'
To this, Lincoln seemed to withdraw, as if he wanted to leave the situation entirely. The lawyer on the other hand, seemed more than happy to speak for him.
'Miss Loud, your father is already here!' she chuckled as if Lyra was somewhat simple. She was far from that.
Everything started to make sense, the white hair, the quiet nature, the fact their uncle had shown up to a custody hearing to which they would be sent to live with their father.
Lincoln was their father.
Their Uncle. Their father.
Lyra did as her uncle, turned father had done. And withdrew. Her emotions had drained her entirely. Her only response was to back out.
Lemy on the other hand, had looked up from his game & heard the news at just the right moment. His hatred for his father had left him.
'Wait, our uncle is our dad too? Awesome!'
Lyra wasn't ill. But she was sick.