Having a secret is the easiest thing on the planet. All you need to do is notsay something. Just keep your damn mouth shut.
Lincoln has problems with secrets and with keeping his damn mouth shut. Because he is a Loud and because he is loud. He isn't really aware of it, but much like the other members of his family, his "inside voice" has the same decibel reading as a weedwacker starting up. This isn't entirely his fault, you kind of have to speak up in the Loud household to be heard, but he could at least be a little bit more conscious of it.
In a rare moment of self-awareness Lincoln was quiet.
After sneaking a couple glances down the stairs he silently pulled down the attic ladder and ascended with one hand balancing the steaming food. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he spread out a blanket hanging on an umbrella stand to cover any prints left in the dust and muffle his steps.
After setting the plate down he slowly made his way to the left corner of the blanket and peeled it back to reveal a loose floorboard. Lincoln hissed as he didn't feel any resistance from pulling it up, the piece of carpenter tape applied to the inside of the board was broken. He squinted at a note left taped to the inside of the board, "I.O.U." scribed in cursive. He shined his cellphones flashlight to inspect the losses to his inventory.
Space and privacy are hard to come by on 1216 Franklin Avenue. The attic is Lucy's domain, so he wasn't too perturbed by the violation to his secret stash. He waved away thoughts of retribution and thought of anything missing as "tribute" to his little sister.
Lincoln has a collection of presents and gifts in case if he ever needs to bribe one of his sisters. These range from fun-sized chocolate bars to packaged gymsocks. You never know when you might piss someone off, Lincoln thought it was best to be prepared.
With a cocked eyebrow he noticed that nothing was missing besides a packaged fountain ink pen meant for Lucy, and even more interesting: a collection of items was added. A selection of trashy romance paperbacks and insulated travel coffee cups (probably for dad and mom respectively) and brand new in-package cellphone chargers and earbuds.
Lincoln nodded his head in silent appreciation. Having some stuff around for his parents is a smart move. And having extra phone chargers and earbuds would probably stop a good quarter of fights from breaking out around the house. Lucy didn't owe Lincoln anything, taking his trusty walletpen he hastily scribbled a heart over the "O" of her note.
Lincoln took a glass bottle of soda from the stash before carefully closing the panel over. Lincoln folded the blanket up and took a look at the floor, he blinked a couple times in confusion as he noted the dust still sitting there. As if he was never in the attic at all.
A cold chill ran down his spine as he descended down the ladder one-handed with the bottle held in his mouth.
The bottle felt like it came out of the freezer and almost burned his lips.
Lincoln closed the attic door and approached Luna's room. After softly knocking he entered.
We've talked a bit about how emotions are the mental feedback we experience when met with changes to our environment. Different parts of the brain flare up when you experience different emotions, all those funny little chemicals dictating how you think and feel. Some people prefer to disregard emotions because of their chemical origins, as if chemicals are something to disregard. If you think chemicals aren't a big deal then go do a shot of window cleaner right now and come back to us.
The chemicals in Lincoln's brain sent signals to his body to get all goosebumpy and break out into a cold sweat. He tried his hardest to fight back the voice in the back of his head that was telling him to get the hell away from Luna, and he was doing a pretty good job at ignoring it seeing as he was walking in her general direction instead of breaking the soda bottle to make an improvised weapon.
"Luna, I brought you some dinner. Lynnsagna," Lincoln said as he placed the food on Luan and Luna's desk, "I wrapped it up in case if you didn't have an appetite. And if you don't feel like touching it at all-"
Lincoln made the mistake of sitting in Luan's clown chair, a woopie cushion let out an almost mournful fart. "Ahem, excuse me…" Lincoln cleared his throat before continuing, "You don't gotta eat it if you don't wanna."
Lincoln carefully used his feet to turn the chair and took a look at Luna. To his surprise she actually moved since the last time he saw her. She was now lying faceup on the same spot, a jean vest he recognized as one of Sam's covered her face. It surprised him a bit and he felt his feet give out, Luan must've greased the ball bearings of the swivel chair. He was able to stop himself from spinning by grabbing onto the table.
Lincoln took a moment to reassess himself from that commotion and swore he felt something change from the corner of his eye, after focusing at a random spot on the opposite wall he was able to ascertain through his peripheral vision that Luna was looking at him through the folds of the vest from the glint of her irises in the light. He pretended not to notice and turned his attention back to the table.
"I also got you some soda, Krebstar Rye N' Rock," Lincoln placed the bottle at the edge of the table and used his other hand to slam the cap off. The sound of a soft thud and the clinking of the bottle cap on the table echoed in the room. He heard a tiny stir and continued, "You should probably at least drink something. If you don't feel like doing that just pour it out the window and leave the empty bottle out and we'll both pretend like you drank it- a little selfish of me to ask, but it would make me feel better."
Lincoln slowly got up and turned to face Luna, bottle in hand. She was sitting upright.
The amber glow that radiated from the closed curtains blanketed her back, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to see her face in the antumbra. Now dry streaks of eyeliner ran down her face ending at her mouth, it looks like she didn't let it run completely as her cheeks and lips had smudged black residue from where she tried to keep the drops from falling to her shirt. A ring of sweat stuck to the ridges of her collarbone, he noticed goosebumps on the edges of her form illuminated by the orange setting sun. She was shaking, it was very miniscule, but Lincoln noticed it.
Every single braincell in Lincoln's head was screaming at him to step away from the volatile supernova of angst that was his elder sister. Lincoln did not feel like being a good listener to the voices in his head today, and he positioned himself in front of her.
Luna was sitting up, her face catatonic with eyes staring past him. Lincoln felt an odd emotion stirring inside him and squinted his eyes and felt himself slip outside his body. As if he was seeing everything in third person.
Luna Loud was, in his mind, invincible. He's seen her cry before, seen her overcome by her anxieties and inner-demons, and has seen her beat them and act like they never got to her in the first place. And every time she emerged victorious: he felt stupid for ever doubting her. This was something else.
She looked so alone.
Lincoln understood what Lynn was talking about earlier. A stirring in the back of his head wanted to throttle her until she snapped out of it, a weird feeling of frustration. But he knew it wasn't her fault that he felt like that. He was frustrated because he felt absolutely powerless. His sister was at her lowest and he cannot think of anything to do to help her.
Until this moment Lincoln Loud believed that there exists a solution to every problem, a plan of action to respond to anything the world throws at you.
Looking down at Luna he realized that he was wrong.
Lincoln caught himself slowly breathing in from his nostrils, he didn't realize he was holding his breath. He lifted the bottle up to his mouth and took a tiny sip of soda to do something with his hands. He could feel the fizz of the carbonation slowly run down his dry mouth and handed the bottle to Luna to see if she wanted to hold it.
Luna clumsily reached out to grab hold of the soda and took a long drink, some of the liquid spilled onto her shirt. Her movements were jerky, if she was a marionette piloted by an amateurish puppeteer. A third of the bottle was gone and she silently placed the bottle to her side on the carpet.
Lincoln's heart raced after a moment of silence was interrupted by Luna bringing her face up to look at him. He could make out the faint traces of purple from her eyeshadow smudged and outlining her brow in the dying light. Lincoln slowly squatted down and her eyes followed him, her mouth agape and eyes dead.
Luna's eyes focused and she slowly gripped onto the carpet, "I…" her voice came out like a croak and Lincoln tilted his head to follow her falling words, "... I-"
Luna shut her eyes and gripped the carpet harder and small, jerky tremors overtook her. Lincoln heard his voice spill out, "You don't have to force yourself, Luna…".
Luna shook her head and took a deep breath. Using a herculean amount of force she pried her pursed lips apart into a painful grimace, "I'm sorry." Lincoln's pupils dilated at the mournful croak. "I'm so sorry." She repeated, her face contorted again in pain and jerked her face down in shame.
"You don't have anything to apologize for, Luna." Lincoln sighed, she's still not exactly coherent but it was some progress, "But hey- I'll take it."
After a moment of silence Luna looked up again, her face devoid of emotion save a single tear that she let drop on her shirt.
"Listen," Lincoln tried his hardest to smile but couldn't find it in him himself, "I'll be back after dinner if you would like to talk. And if you don't want to talk, that's fine. I can just, like, sit here. Or- leave. That's cool too. But, take as much time as you need."
Luna broke eye contact as she drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. Her head made a tiny movement that Lincoln interpreted as a nod and he stood up.
"I'm s-" Luna caught herself as Lincoln turned the doorknob, he stopped and let her continue, "Thanks, bro…"
"I don't want you to thank me, Luna." Lincoln addressed the door, "I just want you to feel better- or if that's too much to ask for: I just want you to be yourself and not have to feel the need to apologize for it."
Lincoln left the room and took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light in the hallway.
We understand ourselves through the context of others. Someone tells you about that time they got a knife pulled on them at a car wash and you tell them about that time you pulled a knife on some guy at a car wash. People understand other people by comparing other people's experiences and worldviews with their own. Sure, it kind of throws objectivity out the window as you taint other peoples experiences with memories of your own: but you can't build up something from nothing. You kind of have to accept that you won't ever get the full picture, and that you won't ever be able to properly explain your experiences to other people in a way that translates perfectly.
You can be a little baby about it, complain about how "nobody understands you" and poop your diapers. Or you can just get over it. Honestly: do you really think you're that complicated? Get over yourself and stop pulling knives on people at car washes.
So sure, "true" communication is a romantic ideal. But Lincoln isn't going to let that stop him.
Lincoln did a quick decompression session after leaving the rancid vibes in Luna's room. Bad Vibes are contagious in the Loud household, bringing all that muck downstairs will choke everyone out and bring everyone down. They've done a good job at hiding it, but Lincoln knew everyone was already on edge despite his attempts to placate them.
Lincoln doesn't really get meditation, the idea of clearing his mind isn't really something that is conducive to a young man like him. He can't just flip a switch and turn his brain off. Lori and Rita sometimes do yoga but that usually turns into a shouting match between them and the TV set. Lucy "meditates", but judging from how fast her mouth moves to shape wordless sentences in a language Lincoln doesn't recognize he figures that her mind is pretty far from empty. Luan does crosswords in her spare time to clear her mind.
Lincoln hates crosswords. Just read a dictionary or something.
Clyde McBride, Lincoln's Best Friend Forever, has helped him walk through his problems whenever he was mulling over something. Clyde maintains that the best way to stop feeling down about something is to take a step outside your head and try to figure out why you feel bad. It's one of the few tricks that Clyde has learned in therapy that Lincoln actually finds halfway useful.
So, Lincoln felt kinda crummy. Why does he feel crummy? Because Luna is sad. Why does Luna feel sad? Because she broke up with Sam. Why does that make him sad if she is sad? Because he really wants to cheer her up and doesn't have a plan to do so. Why can't he think of a plan? Because he doesn't know the details surrounding Luna's sorrow.
Lincoln nodded his head and figured that, while it is pretty lame that Luna is bummed out, he can't really do anything about it until he gets all the angles. A weight was lifted from his shoulders as the miasma of bad vibes was blown away by his mental gymnastics.
Lincoln was about to take his first step down the stairs and a question came out of nowhere and almost knocked him off his feet: Why did he need a plan anyways?
Lincoln caught himself at the banister and froze in place before carefully stepping down.
I guess I don't really need one, thought Lincoln. He shrugged his shoulders and descended another stair.
What if Luna doesn't ever get better?
Then I better get used to the new mopey Luna, thought Lincoln. Who cares if she stays like this for a week? Or a month? Or years? He's still going to be patient with her, just like how she's always been patient with him. Most of the time. Lincoln took another step down.
What if Luna is a sad-sack her whole life and everyone makes you take care of her and she has a ton of cats that all hate you and it makes your place smell like cat piss and you can't bring any chicks ov-
Okay. Dude, shut up. And what's with the "chicks" thing? You see us going on dates or anything? In this economy?, thought Lincoln. He let loose a frustrated sigh before turning the corner into the noisy dining room.
"What's this about you going on dates, Lincoln." Lucy whispered to Lincoln as he took his seat, "Did Hai- er, someone… finally slip you that letter?"
Lincoln held up a finger to Lucy's face and took a fork full of Lynnsagna and shoved it in his mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes as the cheesey goodness enveloped his whole being. "Was I talking to myself again?" Lincoln replied after swallowing, he took the big serving spoon for the broccoli to shove his portion of the veggies into his mouth and continued on while chewing, "I was just having an existential crisis about cat pee, so I'm probably not in the right mind for dating. But let Haiku know that if she wants to date me I'll probably make her sign a No Cat Policy- wait, maybe that's too harsh. Maybe one cat max-"
"Lincoln, please stop talking with your mouth full," Lucy dabbed her napkin on her face to flick off spittle laced pieces of broccoli, "And forget about the Haiku thing, please. She promised me to secrecy."
Lincoln banged his fist on the table as he forced the half-chewed broccoli down his gullet to get his veggies out of the way. "Hehe, yeah. Don't worry about me, doubt anyone would believe me anyways." Lincoln took a sip from his water to cleanse his palate before carefully portioning out a slice of Lynnsagna to chew on, "Haiku, huh?" He entertained the idea by orchestrating his thoughts with his fork in the air, "She's little on the young side, so there would be a weird power-imbalance angle to it. But I guess she's mature? Not that I'm anyone to judge. I know she likes older guys, but I thought her age range was like in the 500's-600's. Maybe it's the white hair. But, I'll be in highschool soon and she'd be stuck in 8th. Kiiiinda weird, honestly."
"Sigh, Lincoln, she made me make a blood oath." Lucy timidly stirred her mashed potatoes with her butter knife, "Please keep this between just u-"
"Dude, it's like mondo obvious that Hi-Chew has a crush on Stinkcoln," Lynn butted in with a mouthful of broccoli, "He helped her win 6th grade class president."
"Oh yeah, that was great!" Lincoln laughed and took another forkful, "I had loads of fun mentoring her last year, she soaked up information like a sponge! Ha, it was like having a little sister who actually looked up to me. I'm glad I'm leaving Royal Woods Middle School in good hands."
"Groan." Lucy groaned, "Her name is Haiku, Lynn. After the type of poetry."
"Oh dang!" Lynn pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully, "That's actually pretty clever, since she likes poetry and all."
"And Lincoln, I do not think girls who are romantically attracted to you would enjoy being called a 'little sister'. Even if you are not attracted to them you should at least have some tact." Lucy took a large forkful of Lynnsagna and sighed, "Boys… Lincoln. Rocky. All the same."
"Preach it, sis." Lynn clicked her plastic sports drink bottle to Lucy's crystal goblet of grape cider, "And you like em young, Lincoln? Typical. Guess I gotta break the bad news to Paula."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Lincoln shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, "Paula too? For real? We had glee club back when I was in 6th, this is news to me. What's with girls nowadays? Are they putting something in the water? And why am I the last one to know?"
Across the table Meli giggled, "It's cuz Lincoln is a dummy when it comes to girls," Meli whispered to Lola, "Your brother is so silly!"
"Poor boy has got no sense at all…" Lola shook her head and shot him a look of pity.
Lincoln's head popped up, "Whoa now, I got tons of sense." Lola and Meli jumped a bit in their seats, "Got way more sense than I know what to do with it. Good enough sense to know that anyone with good sense would sense that I am no good in all senses concer-"
"We get it." Lynn flicked a piece of broccoli at Lincoln and it fell on his plate.
"What I'm trying to say is," Lincoln shrugged and lanced the piece of broccoli with his fork, "No lady in her right mind would want anything to do with me, so all this pining stuff coming to the surface is a bit confusing."
"Well, Paula is kind of nuts," Lynn mused aloud, "And Haiku's parents named her after a type of poetry. So maybe every chick who has the hots for you is kinda crazy."
"Lucky me…" Lincoln chewed his broccoli and stared into the distance before realizing that he was staring at Meli, "Oh, yeah, hey, Meli. Glad you could show up for dinner. Sorry for snapping at you, Luna and Sam broke up so I've been kinda out of it."
Meli nervously nodded her head before collecting herself, "Yeah, breakups are hard. My parents divorce wasn't really fun… And my new super cool older sister Cici has a breakup like every other month," she took a loud sip from a juicebox, "You'd think she'd get used to them, but no. She's single right now, by the way."
Lincoln ran his tongue through his teeth, "Huh…" after finally wrestling a piece of broccoli from out between his molars he continued, "Can you give me her num-"
Lynn spit her sports drink right back into the bottle, "Dude, what the heck Linc-"
"I just wanted to ask for some advice," Lincoln held up his hands defensively, "I am really not looking to date, especially with this Luna stuff going on."
"I don't know, Lincoln…" Lucy tilted her head in thought, "Perhaps getting a girlfriend, and subsequently breaking up with them, might provide you some more common ground between you and Luna."
It was Lincoln's turn to spit out his drink, he wiped his mouth and grimaced at the chunks of food floating in his almost empty glass. "Okay, Lucy." Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to find the best way to put things, "I am no stranger to weird Machiavellian plots, they should change the term to 'Loudiavelian' with how we as a family conduct ourselves- But, come on. I may not know the first thing about dating, but I do know that you shouldn't play around with girl's hearts just to learn something…"
Lacey St. Claire dabbed her napkin on the corners of her mouth, "Aptly put, young man," Lacey St. Claire tilted her head at Lincoln and gave him a wizened look, "But I feel as though if both parties were to enter a relationship with the knowledge that it wasn't precisely… permanent then there wouldn't be a problem. Honestly, you are still a child, thinking a middleschool or highschool relationship would be long lasting is a bit- excuse my rudeness, a bit asinine. And there is nothing wrong with gaining new experiences. Do not strangle your own development with excuses."
Lincoln stared dumbfounded at the pint-sized kid in the yellow dress sitting next to Lana. "Did we forget to lock the door again? Wh- who is this?" Lincoln looked around for an answer.
"Er, uh," Lana cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "This is my…"
"Frienemy," Lacey St. Claire bobbed her head and flashed a toothy grin, "I and your little sister have a friendly rivalry, of sorts. Today during class she boasted that her family served the best Lazanyah in Royal Woods. My curiosity was piqued so I asked my assistant, Carol-" Lana elbowed Lacey St. Claire and gave her a look, "Fine… the guidance counselor, Ms. Pingrey, to get me a serving from your father's ristorante and was most impressed- I simply had to have it served straight from the chef who inspired such a dish."
"Uh-huh." Lincoln leaned in to whisper to Lana, "So is she, like, your bully or something? Blink twice if 'yes'."
Lana shifted uncomfortably in her seat and her eyes kept on darting to Lacey St. Claire, "No…" Lana admitted, "I think of her as a friend, honestly… We just fight, a lot, is all…"
Lacey St. Claire held up her sauce-stained napkin to her face and gasped, "My, Lana! You surely know how to make a lady blush! To think I have climbed the ladder of your good graces enough for you to think of me as a friend…" Lacey St. Claire cleared her throat and set down her napkin to take a sip from a can of diet Krebstar Cola, "Now, Lincoln. You have my word as Lacey. Saint. Claire. that I would never dream of 'bullying' your dear sister. We have our spats, of course, but I am a pacifist. I wish I could say the same for your sister..."
Lincoln, Lynn, and Lucy all shot Lana a chastising look. Lana sank into her chair.
"Listen, Lace', uh, I'm sorry that I lost my cool an- and pushed you down the slide that time. I wish I could've done someth-" Lana winced as Lacey St. Claire interrupted her.
"You have the rest of our lives to make it up to me," Lacey St. Claire reached under the table to hold the hand of her new friend, Lana shot back up in her seat in wide-eyed terror, "You calling me your friend is a good start…" Lacey St. Claire rested her eyes on Lincoln, her nose twitched like a rabbit and Lincoln felt himself run his tongue along the bottom of his incisors in an odd sense of recognition, "Now, young man. Circling back to our previous conversation. Romance is something that is going to happen to you, inevitably, with that 'socially-awkward misunderstood bad-boy in a biker jacket' persona you have going on- whether or not it is an affectation... It is best to face it head on, as Sun Tzu posits: the worst calamities that befall an army arise from hesitation."
Lincoln slowly wiped his sweaty face with his napkin and got red sauce on his white hair. This was a bit much for him. He wasn't aware that he was a "bad-boy", he thought he was "morally grey" but looking at the past and the things he's done he couldn't help but wonder. He doesn't really like talking about romance anyways, even if you frame it with a cool Art of War quote.
"You gotta date sometime, Linc, just to see if you like it," Lynn finished up the rest of her broccoli and released an ear-shattering burp, "-Sorry, I got dyspepsia… Anyways, I was around your age when I had my first boyf-"
"Spit take." Lucy then promptly spat her drink back into her goblet, "This is the first I am hearing of this. In fact, I remember you telling me you were interested in dating, but never got the follow through- Do go on."
"Did you just sa-" Lynn stopped herself and Lucy tilted her head in confusion, Lynn sighed and carried on, "Annnywaaays, everyone in the roller derby team was dating. I felt kinda left out, so I decided to go out with this boy Dexter. It was kinda lame, and we both admitted we were dating because all of our friends were dating and we felt left out. So we broke up."
Lincoln tilted his head in confusion. Usually Lynn's stories are filled with outrageous hyperbole that paint her as a superhuman, so for her to tell a story so flat and neutral made him feel as though she was hiding something. "Is that all?" Lincoln asked.
"Yeah. I guess." Lynn's face was red in embarrassment- and frustration, "Uh, like I always say: romance isn't really for me. Not a whole lot of people can keep up with my pace, I guess…"
"Lynn." Lucy seemed a bit disappointed at Lynn, "I think it isn't a problem with people keeping up with you, I think you just need to have more patience with other people."
"W-whatever, Lucy." Lynn mumbled, "You sound like mom sometimes… ugh. Yeah, I appreciate the advice, but I don't see myself getting patient any time soon…"
"I postulate that if this was the Lynn from when we were younger, Lucy would be holding her napkin to cease the flow of blood from a broken nose-" Lisa adjusted her glasses and gave Lynn a warm smile, "That is to say: Lynn, you are selling your emotional development too short. You are much more mature and patient, not to mention understanding. You may have a penchant to slip into old behaviors, but we all do."
"Uh, thanks, Lis'..." Lynn rubbed the back of her neck, "You're all grown up too."
"I know." Lisa smuggly sipped from the straw of her steel insulated tumbler.
"So what was he like?" Darcy asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Whoa, hey. It's Darcy." Lincoln greeted Darcy at the end of the table with a wave, "Anyone else here?"
"Nope, just me, Darcy." Darcy said as she waved back, "Heya, Linc! I like your cologne!"
"Yes, it is delightful. The small hints of tobacco pair well with bergamot and lime. Very mature." Lacey St. Claire noted her head in approval.
"H- he smells like wet dog and burning plastic. What are you talking about?" Lana exclaimed.
"Oh, that's you!?" Meli squeaked, "You smell like a grown up- and not like pencil shavings and cheap air freshener for once!"
"Th-thanks…" Lincoln sniffed his pits and frowned, "I guess…"
"We need to work on your sensibilities, Meli…" Lola shook her head pitifully.
"Remember what the Dormouse said:
Feed your head
FEED YOUR HEAD"
White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane