"Clyde, I fucked up."

Lincoln sat in front of his lunch plate at the cafetaria, opposite Clyde. His lunch was mostly untouched.

"How bad is it, Lincoln?" Clyde chomped down loudly on an especially crispy fry.

"Code mauve."

"Damn! With who?"

"... Leni."

"Woah." Clyde chewed his food. "Lucky."

Lincoln slammed his fists on the lunch table. "Clyde! This is serious! Luna won't leave her room, and Luan won't let me in it. She knows, Clyde. Maybe they both know! I am so fucked!"

"Sorry, Lincoln, I know this is serious. Especially after what happened with Lucy. Sheesh, we didn't even have a code for that one."

"Clyde! Not helping!"

"Sorry, sorry, again! I want to help you Lincoln, I do, but I'm still not clear on the dynamic between you and, uh, you-know-who. Would you say you're more like, siblings-with-benefits, or, like, a couple?"

"A couple!?"

"Yeah, you know, like, romantically involved."

"No! We're not romantically involved, Clyde! What are you thinking? That I'm going to end up happily married to all of my sisters and raise forbidden sin-children with all of them? This is real life!"

"Okay, well, if that is true, then why would she be upset that you code mauved Leni? You're not like, together together. Besides, you technically cheated on Ronnie Anne, not Luna."

Lincoln paused to think. Clyde had made a good point.

"What did Luna say about it, exactly?"

"Nothing! I haven't spoken to her since the last time we—," Lincoln paused to whisper and gesticulate. "—had sex."

"Well, maybe try talking to her."

Lincoln sighed. It sounded so simple. But it wasn't simple.

"I wish I could, Clyde, but like I said, we're both confined to our own bedrooms. I'm not allowed out of my room, and Luna won't leave hers." Lincoln wistfully ate a fry. "Same for Lynn. Not sure what's up with her."

"Damn, so there really isn't a chance to see her, huh?"

"Exactly. The only time I would see her would be at dinner. My parents wouldn't let me eat dinner in my room... I think. But even then, Luna sits at the grown-up table, and I'm stuck on the kids table. With — with Lucy. Ugh." Lincoln slouched, his hands deperately clutching strands of his white hair.

"I gotta admit, that's quite the pickle Lincoln." Clyde sips his off-brand school cafeteria fruit soda. Strawberry, or so it is advertised.

—

Lincoln sips his on-brand fizzy soda. Razzberry, overwhelmingly. He mulled over his conversation with Clyde, as he had done during his classes where he might have paid attention. From daydreaming at his school desk, he was now sitting at the kids dinner table. Nervously, he inspected the kitchen's wallpaper of the Loud House.

Talk to Luna, he had advised. Would she even be at dinner? She had missed breakfast this morning, and Luan had said she wasn't feeling well. Lincoln had a hunch he knew why. Lost in thought, Lincoln had start to tilt his chair back, balancing on its hind legs in a way his teachers often reprimanded him for. It helped him think. Does Luna really know? Does Luan know? Who else knows something?

"You know Lincoln, your backwards incline on your seating increases your chances of debilitating injury with 35%." Lisa adjusted her glasses as she walked into the dining room. "Besides, it's bad for the chair's structural integrity."

Lincoln glances over at Lisa, who hadn't even turned her head away from her calculator as she spoke. He then reluctantly levels his seat. Know-it-all.

Eventually, Lisa's head did turn to Lincoln. Her gaze moved up and down, observing.

"Hrmm. Lincoln, I have observed evidence that you have had some nocturnal disturbances."

"What!?" Lincoln shrieked. He reeled back, arms waving wildly, bringing his chair back into a backwards incline. He then froze. "Evidence!? What evidence?" His commotion caught the attention of Louds now entering the dining room, including Lucy, who Lincoln now spotted staring at him from the doorway to the kitchen. He relevelled his seat, leaned in towards Lisa and continued with a whisper. "What did you see?"

"The evidence is clear, Lincoln. Your face betrays you."

"My... face?"

"Decrease of focus, periorbital hyperpigmentation, delayed responsiveness... The evidence clearly points to sleep deprivation."

"Are... are you saying I look tired?"

"That would be the street name for it, yes."

Lincoln sighs in relief, but his body is still stiff with anxiety and guilt. "Haha, yeah, I uh, It's just so hot at night these days. I'm uh, I'm gonna grab some water."

Lincoln walked into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water, shakily. "Calm down, Lincoln." He softly spoke to himself as he turned away. "She doesn't know anything. There is no evidence for anyone to find - only hearsay. Nobody has seen you in a compromising situation with one of your sisters. No one except for—"

"You're talking to yourself again?"

"Ah! Lucy!?" Already jittery, the scare made Lincoln reel back further than usual, causing him to spill some the water from his glass onto Lucy's face. "Oh no!"

Lincoln stared at Lucy, her long black bangs now dripping with water. The water droplets form streaks over Lucy's characteristic frown, which now seemed deepened.

"Lucy! I'm sorry!"

"It's fine."

"Let me get a towel. Here."

Lincoln is clumsily drying his sister's face when their mother walks into the kitchen. Lincoln meets a sideways glance from his mom. He immediately understands the unfortunate parallel with what happened at the beach — but it also hurts him. Does his own mother no longer trust him? At the same time, he realises that the distrust is justified. He has done what no good brother would do to his sister. If his mom knew about that...

Absentmindedly, Lincoln stops his drying attempts and shuffles towards the kids dinner table. He slouches on the edge of his chair, and slumps down. Dejected, guilt-ridden. Lincoln is staring ahead, his sorrowful face in his hands, ruminating on his troubles. Just as he's feeling sorry for himself, he sees Lucy reenter through the doorway to the dining room. He sees her approaching wearily and meekly. Her eyes turn towards Lincoln immediately, but she averts them with the same speed — an action only betrayed by the swaying of her long bangs.

The Loud family sits down at their designated places. Lucy sits down next to Lincoln without a hint of hesitation, as Lynn Sr. arrives in the dining room with dinner. As he places it on the table, Lincoln sees that it's dad's trademark lasagna. It will be delicious, but Lincoln can't find himself getting excited under the crushing weight of his own guilt.

"Lincoln," he hears his mothers voice say. He looks up at the imploring sound of her voice. "Why don't you join us at the grown up's table tonight?"

Lincoln sees all the faces of the Loud family turn towards him. He finds himself in a center of attention he does not want to be in right now. He meets Luna's gaze looking at him.

"What?"

"You can take your chair and come sit next to Luna. You're... mature enough."

"Uh..." Lincoln pauses. He realises that his pause is taking long. Too long. He hasn't yet processed what's going on, but he has to say something. He has to pretend like nothing is going on. "Sure, mom."

Lincoln turns towards Lucy, then to the others at the kid's table. Then he silently takes his chair and moves it next to Luna. With every centimeter he comes closer to her, his arms start quacking a little more. He clumsily climbs on his chair, and when he's done, he isn't sitting very comfortably out of sheer awkwardness. He chuckles nervously, and looks at everyone at the grown up table. Everyone except for Luna, who is staring down at her plate.

Lynn Sr. takes off his oven mittens. He stands tall, with his arms in his sides, and turns to Lincoln. "That's a place of honour, son," he states proudly. "And you've earned it. You are a child no longer. There are no boys in the Loud family anymore, only men. So sitting at the grown-up table will reflect how much you've matured." Lynn Sr. sat down, and a loud fart noise emanated throughout the dining room. He reached down and pulls out a deflated whoopie cushion from his seat. The Loud Family erupts in laughter.

"Oh, Luan. You got me again." Lynn Sr. laughed his hearty, good-natured laugh. Lincoln sees Luan beam an unreciprocated hopeful grin to Luna.

Lynn Sr. cuts the lasagna and divides it among the Loud family. It was a hearty, lavish thing comprised of 12 layers. The smell and taste of it is brilliant, but many would not notice that tonight.

Lincoln absentmindedly stabs his fork in his lasagna. He picks at it but does not eat. He is so nervous that its making him nauseous. He doesn't even really understand what he is nervous about, but the nerves are making him quake violently. As he's staring at his mutilated lasagna, he feels something stroking his leg. The something moves up and down his shin, slowly caressing his leg through his pants. He determines that it is definitely a foot. But who's? He looks up at everyone at the grown up table. Luna, Leni, Lori, Luan. Mom and Dad. All of them are within a leg's reach. Who was touching him? No one betrayed what they were doing, if anything. He scanned the table. Luna was absent-mindedly dissecting her lasagna with her fork, her eyes fixated firmly on some layer of minced meat in the middle of the lasagna. Leni was simply enjoying her lasagna, seemingly without a care in the world. Lori had started on the top layer of the lasagna, as had always been her favourite. Dad was cutting off a piece of his own top layer to give to Lori. Mom had stopped eating. She was looking around the family, with a worried look on her face.

"Lincoln, Luna, what's wrong? You've hardly touched your lasagna."

"Luna is still feeling ill," Luan explained. "Maybe Lincoln caught whatever she has." Luan turns to Lincoln with an insisting eyebrow raise that could only signal one thing. Play along.

"Uh, yeah," Lincoln stammered. The covert caresses on his calf continued ceaselessly. "J-just a bit nauseous, that's all."

"Aw, I hope you two get better soon!" Leni spoke with sincere kindness. She flashed Lincoln a warm smile, but from the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Luna seize up when she started to speak.

"Um... I'm sorry, but... maybe it would be best if I stay in my room tonight." Luna spoke, but still looked at no one. When she started to get up, Luan clung to her arm.

"No! Don't go!"

"I'm sick Luan. I don't want to infect anyone else."

The dinner room had fallen silent, and everyone was staring at what was happening. Lincoln's leg was no longer being caressed.

"Come on, Luna. If it was so contagious I would have caught it already."

"Well maybe you did."

With those words, she stormed off. The family took turns yelling after her, but she disappeared upstairs. As Lincoln glanced around the table, tension thickened the air and seemed to suffocate him. Everyone's face betrayed a sense that things were not well. They don't know half of it. Luan seemed especially pained; she slumped into her chair with an uncharacteristic frown and teared up.

Lincoln was also bummed out, as he wouldn't get a chance to talk to Luna now. He looked back at his plate. He was too nervous to eat his meal and felt his anxiety rising. He tried to tell himself that it was silly, that there was nothing to worry about, but he couldn't help it. He found himself staring at his food and mentally rehearsing exactly how he would apologize to Luna. He wondered what she was upset about, and wanted to know what was bothering her so badly. What should he tell her? What did she know? Did Luan tell her anything?

Lincoln stared at Luan in the chair next to him. He saw how she was desperately failing to hold back her tears, and it made him forget about his own fears and worries for a moment. It was heart-breaking to see Luan sad, and he had only ever seen it once before - on the beach. He wanted to comfort her, but hesitated. Maybe he was the last person who should be comforting Luan. But maybe — maybe he was the only person who truly understood.

Gently, he put his hand on her shoulder, and gave it a comforting rub. Luan looked at him. Her eyes were large, and the tears made her irises look warped. He could read the hopelessness on her face.

"We'll figure it out," he said.

Luan did not seem especially comforted as she turned away from him, but she also made no attempt to remove his hand. Leni and Lori flashed them inquisitive and pitying looks.

After an unusually quiet dinner at the Loud House, Lincoln helped moved the dirty plates and cutlery to the kitchen. Luan stood in front of the sink, morosely washing dishes. Lincoln checked the cleaning schedule to check who is supposed to be helping her... Oh, right — Lincoln swallowed.

"Hey." He said it meekly.

"Hey." She did not look up.

"Need some help?"

"I think you've helped enough."

It was harsh, but fair. Despite her words, Lincoln picked up a dishcloth and started drying plates. They cleaned up after their family in silence. One of the forks had its middle tine forcefully bent. Lincoln held it up and wondered who had used it. While staring at it, he caught his own distorted reflection in the fork. A soap bubble ran down his reflected face like a tear.

"Luan, I didn't have a chance to say... or, well, I didn't say... I'm sorry."

Luan did not acknowledge that she had heard him.

"I really am. Sorry, I mean," Lincoln continued. "about what happened on the beach. And... about everything else."

Luan put down what she was scrubbing. She paused, her breathing was thick, and fierce. "Do you have any idea what you're doing, Lincoln?"

"W-What?"

Luan turned to him. Her eyes were stil teary, but her face was now contorted in spite. She scared him.

"Don't act all surprised on me, Lincoln. I know what you're doing. And you have to stop it - okay? Now." Luan aimed the cleaning brush at his throat like a dagger. Lincoln was dumbfounded. He could only stare at his sister. "Damnit Lincoln, can't you see it's tearing our family apart?"

"I—"

"Answer me!"

He did not answer.

"You want to seduce me, huh, isn't that it? Isn't that why you do anything? That's why you're here at the sink, isn't it?"

Lincoln froze and dropped the dishcloth. He grabbed his chest. Was she right? Why would she think such a thing? He never meant to hurt anyone. He was just confused, confused by his feelings. She had the wrong idea—

"Is that what this is about? Well it's not happening Lincoln. And do me a favour and keep your hands off your other sisters too!"

Lincoln stared wide-eyed, unable to respond. He felt dizzy and nauseous. The pain of his guilt was too much. It was like a burning in his gut. Eventually, he started stammering. "I'm— I'm not— Please, Luan. Please. Just let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain about being a shitty brother."

The room felt cold. Ice cold. Lincoln felt tears well to his eyes, and no attempt could be made to restrain them even slightly. As tears streamed down his face, he pathetically jogged up the stairs and to his room. His face dropped onto his pillow like a sledgehammer. He cried and cried. Not because Luan has misunderstood, but because she had understood too well.