Luan I

There was no one in the hallway, no queue for the bathroom. Strange, but convenient. Luan knocked on the bathroom door.

"Knock knock. Haha." The laugh was forced. A good knock knock joke did spring up in her mind, but even that couldn't cheer her up now. The bathroom responded to her knocks with silence. Silence who?

Luan stepped inside and undressed. She let the shower run hot and washed her body. It seemed gangly to her. In the shower, she succumbed to sad thoughts. The Loud family was changing, she could sense it. She had felt so estranged from her family lately. Everyone seemed to be changing. They were keeping secrets, being distant. Were they just growing apart? The carefree playfulness of the Loud House had made way for a tension that Luan was not familiar with. Luan just knew it was bringing people down. What good of a comic would Luan be if she can't even cheer up her own family — the people she cares for most.

She sighs. What had gotten into her? She thinks about her conversation with Luna. How could Luan thinks so ill about her little brother? She had an explanation, but she didn't want want to face it. Luna had seemed really pained and troubled. If only she could cheer her up, let her laugh and release some of her anguish. If only she could be there for her. Listen to her. Oh damnit, she didn't listen.

Luan feels close to Luna, closer than to her other sisters. They share a bedroom together, after all. They have spent so many nights up late, gossiping and philosophising about life. They both shared a lot of problems, but had wildly different approaches. Luna drowned her sorrows through musical self-expression, and by blasting sorrowful rock music. Luan figured that laughter was the best medicine for sorrows. Luan fully embraced the 'absurd condition of human existence' — that's how she had read it phrased by Camus. Luan wasn't only interested in joking around, and she had taken a serious interest in philosophy, and developed a fondness for Absurdist thinkers like Camus. That's partly why she connects with Luna. Sure, she got her life's philosophy from song lyrics written by emotionally troubled young men, but philosophical essays were written by emotionally troubled young men all the same. She remembered a song Luna liked, called 'Pain'. They sing the line "I would rather feel pain than nothing at all" — and is that not the essence of the Myth of Sisyphus? Luan likened herself to Sisyphus: he was condemned to roll a boulder up a hill, only to see it roll back down, for all eternity. Luan was committed to cheering up her siblings, only to see them succumb back to their woes — forever.

Luan sat down in the shower. Her legs tucked up, her mind deep in thought. She had spent many mornings in the shower like this, but usually the deep pensiveness brought her joy. Now she was looking for the answers that could mend her own sorrow — and she wouldn't find them with Camus. What would Lincoln say? He would know what to say. Luan made her siblings laugh, but Lincoln was the one who could genuinely cheer everyone up, including Luan. Luan sighed. Embracing the meaninglessness of existence is great in theory, but it was a heavy burden on her in practise. Luan knew she should speak to Lincoln. "Thoughts have to come bursting out," is what she told Luna as advice. But somehow she wasn't thrilled to speak to Lincoln. It felt like admitting defeat. Luan prided herself in her ability to cheer others up, and that would take a serious hit if she needed someone else to cheer her up. She saw the flaw with that logic, but she wasn't dealing with logic, she was dealing with her feelings. Her dumb, irrational, inconsequential feelings. Feelings she knew a good disappearing act for.

Luan reached for the toothbrush. It was yellow, and elaborately decorated with various smiley faces. It was also electric, making it more effective at removing tooth plaque. Although that is not the reason why Luan liked it. She wasn't about to brush her teeth.

Luan lightly pressed the toothbrush against herself, and pressed the power button. If there was such a thing as a funny bone, it would be located there. Luan's frown quickly turned upside down. This is just what she needed. Luan never thought of any particular person or event while doing this. The vibrations simply made her thoughts evaporate and her brain flood with happy molecules. It tickled, too. Luan laughed. After a while with her toothbrush, she was always ready to face the day with bursts of joy and laughter. A good shower would be create a deep enough well in herself to draw joy from during the rest of the day. That's the energy she used to cheer others up. The true body's comedy — the laughter of the skin. With each vibration, Luan felt more and more of her sorrows wash off of her shoulders along with the warm shower water.

The vibrations stuttered, then halted. "No, no, damnit! Not now!" Luan desperately shakes the toothbrush and presses its power button — to no avail. "Oh I should've charged the darned thing."

Luan gave up on her self-satisfaction. She let her head fall backwards against the shower wall. It was difficult to get some privacy in the house, with ten siblings running and snooping around. Masturbating in her bed at night was not an option, with how little Luna actually slept. It would have to wait until her next shower. Luan let out a sigh.

She climbed out of the shower, towelled herself off and brushed her teeth — awkwardly, now that her toothbrush's battery had died. Luan stared at her brushing through the mirror. Her battery of joy was also running low, but she would have to make do with it. Luan wondered where Lincoln drew his cheerful energy from. Did he —? Luan grew red, and flustered, and closed her eyes. No, no. She couldn't be having such thoughts about her brother. She shook Lincoln out of her head. Her thoughts wandered to Luna instead. Luna could use herself some joyous energy, that was for sure. Maybe Luan should get her an electric toothbrush of her own for her next birthday. Luan turned red again at the thought of it. To everyone else, it would just be a toothbrush. But Luna and Luan would know what it implied. It could be their little secret — an inside joke or sorts. Luan liked the idea, but figured that Luna would already have her own solution. Maybe her electric guitar functions the way her electric toothbrush does? Then again, the music she played was as sorrowful as she was. The only place Luna seemed to draw any good vibes from was —

— from Lincoln.

And how couldn't she? Cute, sweet, understanding Lincoln. Always available to help his sisters out. It annoyed Luan a little. She was there too, trying her hardest to be the cheer to everyone's day. She had wanted all of her sisters to draw from her wells of joy. But whenever they did, it would drain Luan. She gave her siblings all of her, willingly. Meanwhile, Lincoln never seemed drained. When others leaned on him, he seemed to be getting even more energy from it. How did he do it? How? Luan was suddenly determined to find out. Oh, what Luan wouldn't give to be and endless font of cheers and laugher for all. She would give unto those who are athirst of the water of joy, freely. But endless she wasn't — her batteries drained around others. Fairly quickly, too. She has to seclude herself and recharge. Is that why everyone is so drawn to Lincoln? Is that why he wins everyone's favour? Is that why Luna confides in him rather than her roommate? Is that why — Luan feels jealous?

Luan spit, and flushed her mouth with water. She looked at herself. She was frowning. She understood why she was suggesting that her little brother was doing vile, unspeakable things to his sisters. It had been wishful thinking — fuelled by jealousy. A kind of jealousy that made Luan hope Lincoln made a misstep. A horrible one. And Luan felt all the more horrible for it. She was horrible for letting her jealousy speak to Luna. She was horrible for being jealous of her younger brother. She was horrible at cheering people up. Ergo — She was a horrible sister.

She clenched her hands around the sink, and bent over it. A tear echoed its drop from the sink. Luan quietly convulsed with restrained sobs. Luan's insecurities twisted tears from her burning eyes as if they were soaked rags. Her half-filled well of joy seeped out along her face. She tried to cry silently, but high pitched sounds — closer to chirps than sobs — escaped her anyhow. She spent some time like this, clenching and sobbing and chirping and draining — until there was nothing left to drain.

Luan calmed, eventually. She looked up at herself. The mirror framed a portrait of her at her worst. A sad clown. How was she going to make anyone laugh now? Luan wiped the remaining tears off of her face with the back of her wrist. She stared at her wrist afterwards, and saw how a single tear glistened on it, reflecting the ceiling lights of the bathroom. Seeing the tear inspired her with a mood. It was a tear of jealousy, which was a foul emotion that she did not want to possess any longer. If cheering others up was what she wanted, she had to rid herself of her jealousy towards her brother.

Luan stared at her shed tear. She decided it could be a tear of realisation. Of change. The only way to stop feeling jealous about her brother, she concluded, is to be better at cheering up her sisters. To work with Lincoln, rather than against him. Luan resolved to learn from Lincoln, and to become more like him, rather waste her energy on jealousy. That would certainly free up some energy, and it could pay off in more joyful energy for herself, too. Luan worked up a hopeful smile. Maybe Lincoln's approach would be less draining, and more stimulating.

Maybe Lincoln knew something about cheering their sisters up that she didn't.