Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.
When Love Speaks
By Lola Presents
Chapter 5
Around three-thirty A.M., a nurse entered Lola's room as she did her rounds. Checking the chart attached to the gurney's foot, she read the words "suicide watch." Averting her gaze from the clipboard, she eyed the young girl sleeping soundly with a broad smile across her face.
"That can't be right," the woman thought. She didn't look like she was in distress. "Oh well."
The nurse noted the monitor's readings on the sheet and left just as quietly as she came in.
Lola was in a field of flowers that stretched nearly as far as the eye could see. The only thing interrupting the scene was some mountains in the distance. The light, rolling hills, covered in blooms, rose gradually to a plateau, with a single tree on top.
Underneath it sat Lincoln, one leg cocked, the other straight. His hands were behind his head, his fingers interlocked. Lola stooped to pick two stunning flowers and placed one behind her ear, tucking her bangs away from her face.
A light breeze wafted through the meadow, and Lola closed her eyes, feeling the wind touch her face. Beams of sunlight cascaded upon her skin, warming it. Looking at Lincoln, she smiled and slowly walked toward him, the second flower in hand.
Lincoln watched, smiling as she approached, and her shorter legs prolonged the advance, allowing him ample time to admire her frame.
As she came near, Lincoln unlocked his fingers and placed one hand on his lap. With the other, he patted the ground beside him. Lola went to her knees, gently tucked the second flower behind his ear, then leaned in and kissed him gingerly.
Silently, Lincoln pulled her into a lasting embrace and returned her affection passionately.
As they kissed, their hands began to roam. Lola's cupped Lincoln's cheeks while he moved his under her blouse. She could feel his touch radiating tenderness and warmth throughout her being. The feeling gradually intensified until her insides began to feel like freshly lit kindling.
Sitting up, she wiped her brow, then examined the sweat upon her arm.
"Dang it," Lola whispered. "Waiting is going to be more difficult than I thought."
Lincoln lay shaking upon his bed, buried under the covers.
Something was wrong; Lincoln could feel it. He looked around for Lola to no avail. He threw open his bedroom door and glanced around. The hall light was flickering, and a light fog rolled across the floor, which made no sense. Suddenly, he heard giggling.
When he looked up from the floor, he saw the hem of a pink dress disappear down the stairs. Lincoln called Lola's name, but no response came. He wasn't sure why, but he was highly nervous and tentative. A queasy, uneasy feeling had descended upon him.
Slowly, he approached the stairwell and peeked around the edge. Another pink flash, accompanied by giggles, and he was alone once more. He had begun traversing the stairs, one at a time, fearful of what may happen. Suddenly, he heard Lola's voice calling him from somewhere in the house.
"Lincoln…" it said playfully. "You can't catch me!"
Emboldened, Lincoln gathered his strength, jumped the remaining stairs, and then turned the corner into the dining room, expecting to find her hiding under the table. However, she wasn't there, and Lincoln began frantically looking again. As his eyes gazed in the kitchen's direction, another flash of pink followed by more giggling made Lincoln very uneasy.
"You better hurry!" the voice called. "You're losing me!"
Lincoln furrowed his brows and pushed forward. The fog lining their home grew thicker with every step.
"I'm coming, Lola!" Lincoln called.
Stepping into the kitchen, he scanned the room for signs of his sister. He began checking the cabinets until he noticed something. Barely visible underneath the layer of fog were some bloody footprints. Following the trail, he ended up before the basement door.
He reached out to open the door but never got the chance. The door eerily creaked open on its own. Peering into the darkness, he could barely discern the outline of a face. It was Lola's, he was sure, yet somehow twisted. The visage backed away and faded into the shadows.
Hesitating, Lincoln trembled before the stairs, afraid to go further, when she called him again.
"You're too late! I'm gone now!" Lola said, cackling with glee.
Unable to withstand the torture any longer, Lincoln bounded down the stairs and turned on the basement light. The frightened youth couldn't see his beloved anywhere, but the trail of prints ended at the furnace. He swallowed. Whatever was happening, Lincoln was sure the answer lay within the belly of the cast iron beast.
Slowly, he approached and knelt before it. He touched the surface, extending his hand to open it, triggering a cacophony of infantile crying from within. Lincoln withdrew his hand, only for a moment, then grasped the handle firmly. It was warm to the touch, and he surmised it was recently active.
Opening the small chamber door, he peered inside. Before him, nestled in the ash and soot, lay an infant girl, burned beyond recognition. Its little arms looked almost as if they were reaching for him. Suddenly, Lori's face came bursting forth from the depths of the furnace. Lincoln gasped and fell backward as Lori shrieked.
"Look what you did, Lincoln!" she wailed. "You killed her!"
"Augh!" Lincoln cried as he awoke in a pool of sweat. "Holy fuck…"
Suddenly, Lincoln's door opened, and Lucy peered inside.
"Are you alright, Lincoln?" Lucy asked with concern.
Having gotten assigned to guard her brother, Lucy chose to sleep in front of his door. Not that she was sleeping anyway. Authoring morbid poems was much more fun.
Lucy took her duty seriously, even though Lola was still at the hospital. She knew that being lovesick could drive one to do horrible things, even unto themselves. The goth was determined not to let her brother do that.
"Uh," signed Lincoln, throwing the covers back and sitting on the edge of his bed. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. "Just a nightmare, Luce," he said.
"From the sound of it, I'd say it was quite interesting," Lincoln's sister replied. "You know, I'm sort of a dabbler in dream interpretation. Do you feel like discussing it with me?"
Lincoln lowered his hands and looked up at her.
"Yeah, sure," he said. "I could use the company right about now, regardless."
Lincoln had spent much of his youth watching the Academy of Really Good Ghost Hunters show, known as A.R.G.G.H., and horror movies, most of which featured zombies. Yet, they never invaded his dreams. Maybe there was something about his nightmare worth discussing, after all.
Lincoln recounted every detail of what he'd experienced for the next few minutes.
"So, what do you think?" Lincoln asked, deferring to his creepy sister.
"Well," she said, "for starters, you need to relax. Dreams like this are normal. It's just your brain's way of trying to tell you something. In this case, there are several possible interpretations. One is that you may be feeling guilty about possibly ruining Lola's innocence. However, we know she isn't as innocent as she seems, so that may not be accurate. Regardless, it may be the way you feel internally."
"And the other explanation?" Lincoln asked nervously.
"Perhaps you fear that things may go too far, that you'll get her pregnant and might lose the baby," Lucy replied. "Followed by Lola rejecting you after losing the child. But then again, it may mean nothing at all. Dreams are funny that way."
Lincoln's brows raised, then lowered.
"Maybe," he admitted. "I've never been in love, so this is all new to me."
"Will you be going back to sleep now?" inquired Lucy.
"Not immediately," sighed Lincoln, feeling parched after his experience. "I need something to drink."
He stood and left the room with Lucy in tow.
"Wait up," she called. "I still have to escort you around the house, you know."
It only took a moment before they entered the kitchen, where Lincoln flipped on the lights. He fetched two glasses from the cabinet, poured them some tea from the pitcher in the fridge, then handed one to Lucy.
"Thanks," she said, accepting the refreshment.
"To love," announced Lincoln, holding his glass aloft.
"To love," repeated Lucy.
They then touched glasses and downed the contents. Completing their toast, both yawned dramatically.
"Whelp, I'm off to bed," announced Lincoln.
"Yeah, me too," replied Lucy.
Together, they headed back upstairs, and once Lincoln vanished into his room, Lucy unfurled her sleeping bag and burrowed inside.
Lola awoke the following morning, bright and early, smiling as she adjusted the incline of the bed. There was nothing like a night of the most wondrous dreams to satisfy a lovestruck heart, and she had many that night.
The one she woke to was still fresh upon her mind, though all she could recall was lying in Lincoln's bed, looking up at him hungrily as their bare flesh pressed against one another. The couple had just finished making love and were admiring each other. Then Lincoln lay beside her, holding her close.
Lola had never before engaged in any sexual activity, not even masturbation. She had no concept of what it may feel like, so those parts of her dream were oddly missing. Lola wasn't completely clueless, though.
When she and Lana were little, they once exposed themselves to each other to see how things looked. That was just childhood curiosity, however. Neither felt the urge to do anything more than look, thinking it gross.
Then, sex education at school spawned many whispers, and students began boasting about having sex with someone. After watching several porn videos on the sly, she doubted their claims.
As the memory of her nocturnal visions faded, she noticed something was amiss. Lifting the sheets with one hand and the hem of her gown with the other, she located the problem. Her panties were completely wet and tacky against her skin.
Gasping, she looked around the room. Nobody had thought to bring a bag of supplies, which meant no change of clothes. All that was present was her pageant gown, neatly hung on a rack.
"Well, crap!" she muttered to herself. "That'll teach me to get all hot and bothered, I guess."
Sighing, she let the gown and sheets fall back as the door opened, and Dr. Roberts walked through, followed by a female nurse she hadn't met before.
"Good morning, Miss Loud," he chirped. "And how are we feeling today?"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm fine," came Lola's cheeky reply, still fuming about her undergarments.
Why is it that every single doctor that ever existed always talked in the plural? It didn't make sense considering the degree of intelligence required to become one.
Once more, Dr. Roberts reviewed her vital signs, which appeared on a long scrolling paper, then repeated the eye exam. He then listened to her heart and lungs through his stethoscope. Finished, he sat back in his seat.
"Well, Miss Loud, I've been over your data, and I see no lingering or residual effects of your bout with anxiety. How would you like to get out of here?" he cheerfully asked the young girl.
Lola's eyes flew open, and a smile formed on her face.
"Would I ever!" she declared.
"Very well then," he said. Standing up, he moved over to the bedside and lifted the sheets. Lola's face went blank, her mouth a small straight line, wondering if the doctor noticed her damp panties. "Let's get these probes off you. What do you say?"
Tentatively, Lola nodded.
"Nurse, would you please set our young friend free?" the doctor requested.
Sighing with relief, Lola sat still while the unnamed nurse quickly disconnected the leads and peeled the bases off her chest.
"There you go, dear," she said, pointing to a nearby door. "The restroom is over there, should you need to use it."
Lola bolted for the facilities without hesitation, grabbing her pageant dress along the way. It took a lot of rinsing of wringing, followed by liberal use of the wall-mounted blow-dryer, to get her panties into a more wearable state. Putting them to her nose, she sniffed.
"Bad decision, Lola," she thought, gagging and pulling away, her mouth contorting in disgust.
They were no longer wet, though the dryer's heat aggravated the smell. Sighing heavily, Lola used the toilet, donned her clothes, and tried vainly to rake her hair into submission with her fingers. Finally, stepping back into the room, she announced her readiness.
Two grueling hours later, Lynn arrived to take his daughter home.
After their father announced Lola's return and left the house, the remaining sisters lounged around the living room, awaiting their wayward sister. Lincoln, having slept late due to some rather exciting dreams of his own, was not present.
Together, they used the opportunity to discuss things amongst themselves. An evident division began to form as they talked. Lori, Luan, and Lana were none too happy about their sibling's budding relationship. Lori was particularly furious with her parents.
However, Lori held her tongue. It was her parent's home, after all. Leni, Luna, and Lucy seemed quite pleased with the situation. While Leni was too innocent to see it as anything but adorable, Luna and Lucy understood the allure of forbidden or alternative attractions well.
Lynn didn't seem to care one way or the other and kept trying to divert the conversation by recounting her amazing plays during her last game. As expected, Lisa had her heart set on documenting the affair. And Lily accepted it as generally as anything that happened in their home.
The debate continued for some time, occasionally reaching a feverish pitch before settling back into normality. Perhaps it was the continued arguing that woke Lincoln. He wasn't sure. Nevertheless, he arose, stretched, and changed out of his sweaty pajamas, then headed downstairs.
Just as he stepped from the last case, the front door opened, and his father came through, followed by Lola. Upon seeing her brother, Lola made a beeline for him, running as fast as she could.
"Lincoln!" Lola cried with glee.
From Lincoln's point of view, time appeared to slow to a crawl. His peripheral vision had blurred, centering his focus on his sister. She seemed to be moving in slow motion, and he could see every nuance of her movements and every strand of hair wafting in the air as she ran.
Her face was beaming as if lit by a thousand suns. Her hair appeared as golden as ever. A broad smile adorned her face and pushed her cheeks into small rosy mounds. Her eyes, narrowed by the breadth of her smile, glistened radiantly as her arms extended to embrace her brother.
For just a moment, Lola was six years old again as Lincoln recalled an event from years prior. Lola had just won her first pageant under his tutelage and had rushed to celebrate with him.
The memory couldn't last forever, though. Lola made contact with him, embracing him tightly around the waist, breaking the immersion. Back in reality, Lincoln wrapped one arm around her, and the other lay against her back, cradling her head as she rested it on his chest.
"Oh, Lincoln!" she cried, listening to his heart beating inside his chest. "I missed you so much! I'm so sorry that I scared you like that," apologized Lola, hugging him tightly, never wanting to let go.
Lincoln rested his head on hers and lightly kissed it several times.
"I missed you too, Lola," he told her. "I thought I was going to go crazy worrying about you. It's okay, though. You're here now."
Lola was significantly shorter than Lincoln, especially without her high heels, but they fit perfectly together. It was almost as if someone had explicitly designed them for one another.
"Awe," cooed Leni. "That's totes the cutest thing I've ever seen!"
"Rock on, sibs!" shouted Luna, tossing the goats.
Lori and Luan just glared.
"But, honey?" Lincoln declared, scrunching his nose. "You need a bath!"
"That's a wash!" declared Luan, despite her irritation at the scene before her. "Get it? Ha, ha!"
Even Lori had to chuckle at that one.
