Lyrics to:
The Antidote — Simple Plan (2022)
The Only Exception — Paramore (2010)
And the sketch was done.
She stretched her hands out, holding the sketchpad that laid her concept storyboard of their play before squinting. The lines were barely visible already, and it was sure that in a few days' time, the pencil lead would become nothing more than a trace only she could outline with her memory.
Dropping the thing on the bed, Luan furrowed her brow. Now, where the heck was that pen?
Oh, right. Because she was just so generous.
Luan grumbled under her breath, lifting herself off the bunk just enough to yank Luna's backpack from above. It's so easy to forget that you borrowed something from someone, huh, Lunes?
She reclined herself against the pillow and settled the backpack on her lap, unzipping it.
Oh. Luan furrowed her eyebrows, her lips turning into a frown as she was greeted with the interior of Luna's bag. To think her bed was messy as it was. Balls of scrunched up papers and uncapped pens jutted out. If they were upside down, it would've torn holes at the bottom of her bag! It's a health hazard!
Then again, Luna would probably consider a torn bag rocker fashion.
Luan spilled all its contents on the floor, two pens rolling under the bed frame and, she could've sworn she saw the flash of blue and black among those two.
Pausing, she looked down at the mess she's made. Sure beats having to surf through the stuffed bag.
She hunched over and skimmed through it. Luan scanned the mess of the floor and sucked her lips in. Paper here… paper there… she brushed it aside. A handwritten music sheet on a yellow pad, and uh... a doodle of her and Sam kissing?
Ew. Luan grimaced, before cautiously taking another glance, afraid that if she stared long enough, she'd get eyeball STDs.
Eh. It was far from being close competition to Full Gang, but still. Not bad.
She folded the sheet and inserted it into one of Luna's notebooks. Imagine what her locker looked like. Luan shuddered. Thankfully we're on different halls.
Luan glanced at the books, notebooks and booklets in front of her, lying toppled upon one another. She'd have to declutter all this just to look for her sketch pad.
Might as well. It'd only take a jiffy.
On second thought, it did not.
Sat on the floor were neatly aligned black, blue, and red pens. All the stray papers and trash either unfolded to the side or tossed in their garbage can.
The scanning-through-Luna's-notebooks. Not arranging and finding the pen. That only took two minutes in.
Luan narrowed her eyes, glaring at Mr. Coconuts on the bed. But sh.
Don't forget to leave out stray test papers with barely passing marks on it. Luan inserted them all in their respective subject notebooks because she's the best sister finally, leaving the pens on the ground, she shoved all seven purple notebooks into the bag.
Her finger brushed over the back of the bag. A rectangle lump, under what seemed to be a zipped secret pocket. A tinge of excitement coursed through her veins. Oh, a secret book? Out of curiosity, Luan fished through the long slit, searching, digging for the object. Her fingers grazed the tip of what felt like a cardboard cover, and she yanked it out, a giggle bubbling up her throat. It better not be one of her Playgirl mags again—
Her chest hollowed. It wasn't.
Not that she wanted it to be… but it would be funny if it was.
Luan scanned the cover. Black and white, labeled with none other than Luna's handwriting.
She opened the front page.
Her eyes flashed at the word 'missing'.
'Bitterness'?
And what's this? Bud Light? As in the liquor?
Sitting back up on her bed, Luan nabbed Mr. Coconuts for company. Was this another diary?
No... these looked like...songs.
Luna once mentioned how she writes what she calls 'track remedies'. It was how she hurt, it was how she healed. If there's one thing being a roommate of a songwriter and a mentor to a poet taught her, it's that, this is their meditation. Their non-verbal expression. Which was why every time Luna sung her a new song, even if it's not really her style, she'd take it in like a sponge; knowing it was the gateway entrance to her soul.
And now she felt awful. There came that sinking feeling in her stomach. She should've be reading this. This was an invasion to her privacy. Why else would she have hidden it in that secret pocket?
Luan glazed her eyes to the lower part of the page, finding three verses scribbled down. Existential crisis. She pinpointed. Everyone goes through this. It's normal... now come on, put it back where it belongs...
But by everyone meaning Luna, the same rock star who held a mini concert in the cafeteria just a week ago, and the same one who looked giddy and enthusiastic on her way to her band meeting an hour prior— maybe not.
Then again… she did become de-Lulu for the music industry once.
She darted her eyes from the door, to the book, hearing muffled footsteps and arguing from Lynn and Lucy's wall. Luna was in the garage with her band. She won't come up here until five.
Just one page. One page, and you're done. Her thoughts said.
And she was weak to curiosity, her biggest temptation. So, Luan settled back, and opened the pages up.
Just one.
I don't remember
Being locked inside a cage
But it feels like forever
Since I've seen the sunrays
I've tried, and tried and now I'm tired
Of always trying to find the words to write
I'm dwelling in a place you'll never find
Unless somebody comes to read my mind
Shaky hands, all I see's the Bud Light
I just wanna say all the words that don't exist
Her eyebrows furrowed. Bud Light.
Feel like if this keeps up, I won't make it out
If it pulls me lower, I might just quit,
No doubt, I'm losing myself
No way out,
Need someone to pull me out
Luan turned to the figure sitting beside her on the bed, greeted with lifeless, wooden eyes of Mr. Coconuts. "My Chemical Romance called; said they wanted their song back." She muttered in his voice, shifting the bag on her lap and unzipping where he sat. "Someone get her a record label at Emo-con or something."
Her face hardened and she turned to glare at him. "This isn't something we should joke about, Mr. C." She hushed, scanning the scribbles over and over again. This is strange. Normally, Luna would've followed a pattern in writing her songs. As she said it herself, it ain't a song if the end verses didn't rhyme.
It was so much easier to laugh at this, if only she didn't know just how expressive Luna truly was in her music.
Not to mention her use of the pronoun, I. Maybe if she used, they, or referred to someone else, she wouldn't bat much of an eye.
She could hear Mr. C in her head. "But besides that, what would the chick know about tasting liquor? Heck, you two are only a year apart and even you didn't know what champagne tasted like!"
Her cheeks tingled at the words. Yeah, call her a prude, but it was mom's doing. She had an eagle's eye and sharp nose for that sorta stuff. Her older brother, the uncle she never mentioned, suffered alcohol poisoning in their early teens and didn't survive. They never knew until the night Lori came home from one of her senior parties looking half-baked and reeking of beer.
Luan took a deep breath, warm air pressing at the back of her nostrils. Maybe at the beginning of her rock n' roll journey, she'd considered the prospect of Luna going all in on it, jumping into the lifestyle of late-night partying and booze and weed… but was it really happening now? Right under their noses?
Her eyes scanned above the block of lyrics, finding the date.
This was… a week ago?
A week ago. A week ago, a week ago, a week ago… what were they doing a week ago?
Nah, nothing much she could recall, but one thing did stand out: The last week and the one before that, Luna was jam-packed, get it?
It was always about the parties, the gigs, and the extra cash to her lately. Not that she could blame her, right after the Goats caught sight of her money safe. That's why you don't underestimate clowns, people.
When they'd pass by the school lobby, she'd have her nose buried in her phone, too deep in her head to even notice—ehem— a sister who just wanted to wave hi. By the time Leni drove them home, the passenger seat would remain empty, so much so that the twins would fight for it during the entire ride.
She wasn't a sucker for privacy but when it came, well, call her selfish then—for not caring if every single night Luna came back home ready to chuck her boots out. Or for being happy that her Luna winds up climbing up her bunk with nothing as much as a grunt before crashing down. That way, it's like she was never even there.
But how did her hectic schedule connect to her existential crisis? Her dates with all these wild drinks?
Wanting to know more, she looked at the page again. Am I just looking into this thing too far?
I've tried, and tried and now I'm tired
Of always trying to find the words to write
Luna wasn't the one to beat around the bush. If she wrote a song, you'd know what it's about just by reading the first line.
I just wanna say all the words that don't exist
Luan bit her cheek. She wasn't Dr. Lopez, or Clyde, but think about it: her first words in the book had something along the lines of 'running away from myself'. And now this one talked about exhaustion, frustration in writing things, of words that apparently 'don't exist'.
Oh. Oh.
Her lips pursed and her eyebrows set. She knew the feeling all too well.
That wasn't the hot issue here though. If this confusion led her to drink like what Uncle Rick did? What're the odds she'd end up just like him?
A cold shudder ran across her back. No. Perhaps the life she was living, bouncing between gigs back and forth led her to such an exposure: the life of rocking, and rolling.
Hold that thought.
How could she be so dumb?
What if it was all for show?
Right after that one time she, along with Leni and Lincoln snooped through her diary and found her writing the most reckless alibis, it'd be stupid if she didn't take this with a grain of salt.
"You know what they say, toots." Mr. Coconuts said. "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me."
Point in place: Who was Luna to be trusted, right after she lied straight to their faces and thought of it as a thrill for retribution?
Even if it was only a one-time thing, for the laughs.
She out of all people knew how it's like. To have your trust comprised because of a silly joke, but Luna played with their worry. Tugged at their heart strings all for a kick.
One last song. Luan swallowed through a thick sheen of saliva. If this is still as disturbing as the others, Luna's leaving her no choice.
Oh, this one had a title.
A shiver ran through her spine. "Play It Down…? A revision of Play It Loud?"
Been hearing all those voices as I lay down my bed
Get out of my head,
I wanna get out of my head
Don't remind me of all the words I had said
Get out of my head
Lately, all I've been seein's red
How can I kill you if that meant I'd want me dead?
Play it loud? No, pull it down
Who'd bat an eye if you swallowed it down?
If you play it down, know there's no way out
I hate it, I'd kill it, if there's an escape then tell me how!
Play it off, pull it down
Sorry, I'm sorry for being in doubt
Play it down, know there's no way out
Make it stop, give me another route
In these walls; I am bound.
Bound? Luan swallowed, feeling bile rise up her throat. In what?
She could hear Luna singing this in her mind, to the same tune of "Play It Loud, without the shredding, or the amps. Just the rasp in her voice; the agony in it. Luan breathed in deeply, trying to think through this. There was much more, too much. This didn't feel like her sister anymore. This wasn't Luna, nor is this meant to be her track.
This was her inner demon: The one thing that must've been holding back.
She flipped back to the first page. To the untitled song that first greeted her, then to the second and third. Written in a language Luna and Lucy wrote in fluently: English, with a layer of subliminal meaning. These were more than compositions to them. They were battle cries. Begging lullabies. It didn't need an English grandmaster like Lisa to decipher it.
But there goes the challenge. Words, as vague as these weren't enough to open doors if she did try to read in between the lines, yet beneath these songs was an underlying experience. Could it be the voices she wrote about? Or the Jack that she allegedly drank too much of? Maybe it was the way she drowned herself out too much, to forget who she really was?
Luan drew the book to a close. Chewing on her lower lip. Last week's events. Was it all intentional? It had to be if she felt this way, right?
Luan shut the book, shoving it back to where she found it. But she couldn't just tell her upfront, could she? How would Luna react? The last time, she was unfazed–amused, even, considering the opportunity she was given to prank them. But they all considered that a lesson to never snoop at one another's things ever again.
Yet she broke the unspoken ethic again.
Luna wasn't coming up until later, or maybe even tonight. She had the whole day to mull over her songbook. Maybe then, this would just become a note to keep. A small observation, and a reminder to keep an eye on her roommate- instead of a siren blaring red in her head saying you need to talk to her about this otherwise she'd be a goner!
Luan got up with her sketchpad. Until then, she had Lily waiting for her.
She walked to the room by the end of the hall, adjacent and half empty. Lisa was out to a Science convention. Luan glanced at the crib. Leaving only…
"Wuan!" Lily fussed as she walked toward her with a paintbrush and a palette in hand. "Wet's draw!"
She could worry about her older sister later. Luan crouched and scooped Lily up in her arms, both of them giggling. "Wet's up to you too, Lils!"
She bopped the tip of Lily's nose, earning a bubbly laugh. Because this time, it was her turn to play the big sister.
How does somebody write?
Not the way Lily's trying to do in Daycare, nor the way mom typed her columns or Lucy wrote her wicked poems.
The way she had before? In the style of Luna Loud?
Because oh man. Luna sat on one of her amps, scratching her hairline with the tip of her pen. It's been hours since she first started writing, and all she's got were one-liners that don't connect and a throbbing migraine. Great.
That's what you get for spending the last four hours chit-chatting and letting the band host a garage concert.
"Hey, Lunes, how's everything holding up?" Sam's voice echoed from her back.
Bad, brah. Her stomach churned in disappointent. I'm falling apart.
She slumped as two calloused hands pressed her shoulders. Sam really knew where her weak spots were. And she knew exactly how to strengthen her with it. "I'm cool, Sam. Just uh… kinda stuck."
Stuck was an understatement. She was losing it.
"Oh. You sure you don't need any help?" I do.
"No biggie. I'll get through it." Luna insisted, glancing at the rest of the band. Would she, though? "Ey, Sully, Mazzy, have you thought of any good tunes yet?"
Normally, it was her who had the idea. The entire concept, the whole blueprint of the song in mind. Luna wasn't just an amateur music producer for nothing; she was the engineer of her composition. The architect of its entirety.
"I got this cool chord progression. Check it out." Sully smoothly drifted his fingers through the keyboard, playing a tone on the lower scale.
Luna sat still and listened. She could pick up tunes finely by ear, and create a thorough melody just through a single note. Not even the certified best in the school she's talked to could keep up with that sort of genius, and even she shocked herself when it'd happen. "That's way too… er, jazzy, dude. That's not the style we're going for."
"What if we add a lil' electric into that bass?" Sam let go of her, giving her own axe a riff. "Hit it Sully!"
That was the importance of a band to her: not mainly about having minds collide into creating one, rather, the division of blending the music together live. They could get a rhythm going all they want. Luna glanced down at her songbook and chewed on her pen. But at the end of the day, it was Luna and The Moon Goats. Her band. Her songs. The one who approved theirs.
The combination of a low bass and a shredder scratched her ears. She grimaced. It sounded like if a chainsaw grinded along a tree while someone at the back blew a trombone. And that right there, was out of her endorsement.
She shut her notebook and looked out at the glass windows of the door. Sundown. Dinner was gonna start soon. And she thought of nothing.
Luna unconsciously chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes glazing over the orange sky. Normally, it'd frustrate her. It challenged her to think harder, and she'd spend hours just chewing her pen, thinking. Looking for how to get creative, or where to find it.
But now, she couldn't quell the ever-growing hollowness in her gut. Now she just wanted to quit thinking. To drop all of this before her brain combusted.
"Everyone, take five."
They all looked at her.
"Dudes," Luna sighed exasperatedly. "It's getting late and uh, I haven't really come up with a lot so," They all looked at her in dismay. "I'm calling it a day."
"Oh, come on, Lunes! This comes naturally for you! Surely you got something still jammed in your noggin'!" Sam teased with a nudge.
Luna shook her head. Maybe something was jammed in her mind. Maybe that's why the juices won't flow out. Maybe that's why she's not as excited or looking forward to it like she was before. In her songs, it didn't have to have a catchy tune to stick into other people's minds, or a song that everybody loved. What mattered was that, they'd serve as the voice others needed to hear, but she didn't even know what to say.
"Maybe you just need shift a little in style? Diversity's what I'm sayin'." Mazzy sat on one of the amps. "The tension's getting to ya, Lunes. I tell you. I know you care a lot about wanting to give a show, but The Leprechaun's Oir ain't any different from The Burnt Bean, or Bustling Busses you know?"
"I know." Luna grit her teeth. I'm the one who's changed. "School's also kinda been over my head lately. That's gotta be it."
"Can't blame you. Trig homework's been clawing up my boot last night." Sully laughed as the rest of them shared a chuckle. "I got it done though in case you just wanna copy off it?"
"Nah, Lise's got me covered." Luna stood up and opened the garage door. Soft sunrays cascading her skin with orange. That was never the issue, and deep inside, she never wanted to face it. "You guys should go. We'll meet again once I get my head sorted out, yeah?
Sam slipped her fingers into Luna's. "You know, if you need somebody, I'm here."
Luna turned to her with a warm smile. She was supposed to be a star in the rising, yet why did it feel like otherwise? "Yeah."
To tell the truth, she wanted to hold this meeting off if only she hadn't been thinking more about seeing Sam again. And hey, an irresponsible part of hers thought that maybe, having other minds collide would get her own shifting. Maybe a gig this big would get that block out once and for all.
Seems not.
"Just hit us up if you change plans." Sully's car keys jingled as he unlocked the parked red Mustang from their sidewalk.
"Sure." Luna wore a ghost of a smile, watching as he and Mazzy entered the car, before darting her eyes back to Sam. "You should get home too."
"Right." With a signal that her girlfriend didn't really need any support, Sam pecked her cheek goodbye, before getting into the backseat, driving off as they went.
Luna slumped and entered the garage, locking herself in for a few more minutes. It's been weeks. Days and nights, she spent with a half-empty note on her phone, trying to think of something new. Milking her mind with the juice it wouldn't leak.
She plugged her lying axe into an amp and strummed a chord. But why? Why was she like this?
It wasn't her to stay in a rut this long. One day, two days. Fine, but this time, the block was overstaying its welcome. Her fingers instinctively pressed and curled as the amp buzzed into her empty mind. Maybe it intended to stay this time. Heck, it grew the longer it lingered.
"Rock n' roll's running through my veins," She began strumming an all too familiar song. "But lately it's been chippin' off and I'm goin' insane."
Yeah, lame at best.
It was still something though. But if renditions of her old songs were all she could do, then throw her away and call her a sack of wasted potential. Luna let out a low grumble, unplugging her axe defeatedly and dragging herself back into the house. She just kept wasting time.
And her potential too.
Three... something, something AM.
In the Loud House, it came by many names. Lucy stuck with the witching hour, and sometimes in those late nights, some of them were unlucky to hear her chant up in the attic. Lana, on one hand said it was the snacking hour, and Lynn snickered in agreement.
And some of them? Like the comedian of the house?
While Lucy went around the attic summoning goats and sacrificing demons from as early on as midnight, she sat on one of the dining room chairs, trying to untangle nerves of endless thoughts; trying to hear her own jokes though the cacophony of the day's never-ending chaos.
To her, being as cunning as she was, the dawn at three is when life happens. Only then, can she spend the hour doing what she couldn't do for the rest of the other twenty-three.
Luan set the blueprint down for her latest prank show down on the table and sighed. Like writing down an elaborate prank idea Lily gave her… and uh, totally not thinking about that song book.
She stretched and lifted her chair under the table, taking with her the now rolled up blueprint and her blue gel pen. Lily's out-of-nowhere invitation to paint the wall threw her off guard, and when she started blabbing, Luan's worries and thoughts about that book evaporated.
"You want me to fill the vent with Lisa's laughing gas?" Lily pointed a finger up the vent on their wall, tapping on the bottom of it with her paint.
Needless to say, she spent another half of that day cleaning up their little mess. Let's just say that little blueprint was just a fart of her plan. The gas moving her forward into putting this plot into action. After all, we can't act without the script.
Luan absently strolled up the stairs, creaking under her weight. When it was all over and she came back into her room, dad called them down for dinner. And surprise, surprise- Luna casually walked out their room. She jolted as they nearly bumped in the hallway, and yeah, it was… awkward. Maybe it was because she was a second away from blurting out her little discovery, or perhaps it was the avoidant demeanor Luna had that held her back from saying it. "Hey dude," She grumbled before brushing past her.
Through the hall, the sound of her sleeping siblings slipped. She chuckled. That was the quietest the Loud house could get. Be it the middle of the night, and you'd still have all these raspy, throaty, snotty snores slipping into your ears like rattlesnakes.
Maybe by tomorrow, she could confront her about it. She grabbed the door handle, and turned the knob. At school, during lunch, hopefully. Better be early though if she wanted to see her without the band—
"I wish I knew, Mick." Luan froze at the sound of the groan. She's awake? "I just can't find the words to say things. Anything!"
Shifting, Luan swallowed a thick sheen of saliva down her throat. Why was she? They barely even had the chance to talk after dinner when she went straight to bed right after calling Sam on the phone. Get it?
Okay, okay. Too shallow.
She twisted the knob and walked in, hissing as a flash of light shot her. "Hey!" Luan threw an arm over her face. "What's with you being so flashy?"
"Midnight snack?" Luna faced her flashlight to the ceiling, illuminating the room with a sterile, white glow.
"You could say that." Luan blinked a few times and looked up at her. She was a mess. Her hair was ruffled from laying down the entire evening; her eyelids hooded with fatigue.
Top it all off, was her scowl. Must've been the frustration she told her Mick Swagger poster earlier.
"What's with the long face?" She ushered the door closed quietly. "Lost yourself trying to find the oir?"
Could this be an opportunity to speak up?
Luna scoffed in response. Maybe not. "Get it? Cause you're going next week and Oir means gold—"
"I get it, dude." She cut her off snappily before shutting her flashlight off. Luan could hear her shifting on the mattress, and she could only imgine her settling back under the sheets to sleep.
Huh, someone's a grouch. Then again, she had been since she came back from the garage. No, wait, no— she'd been this way for weeks now, gears shifted in Luan's head. At first, she thought it was just that time of the month again, but now carrying the knowledge of her songs...
It all started to connect.
"You okay?" Luan mentally facepalmed. No, duh, Captain Obvious.
Luan blinked, adjusting to the darkness before trudging to her nightstand with muscle memory. And with a click, the lamp on her nightstand brightened the room up. Better.
Luna's back greeted her, rising with her deep breath.
"Hey," Luan called out again softly.
"Just a lil' mind muddled, brah." Came her distant response.
Luan nodded slowly. The room's atmosphere drastically changed. Could be just her but it felt heavier, now that she was inching close to spilling out her confession. "I mean, you did just wake up in the middle of the night."
"Who said I was snoozin'?" Luna shot back, turning to look over her shoulder. The yellow tint floated through the atmosphere, exposing the redness in her eye. She stared at her older sister for a little longer, getting a good look at her face. Was it just her, or did she look older… than last month?
Been hearing all those voices as I lay down my bed.
A chill ran through her spine. So many things to ask. Luan invited herself into her bunk, one leg bent and the other swaying by the edge. Her stomach churned and her hands ran cold. Do I lay it down slowly or just drop it? Would Luna be mad? How would I deal with that? "I gotta tell you something." She sheepishly rushed out. "Just… don't freak out."
"What?" Luna groaned out tiredly. "Did ya borrow my threads for a prank again?"
"Nothing like that. I doubt it'd leave you in stitches, anyway." Luan let out a giggle, casting a side glance at her.
Luna continued to simply stare at the wall, being too tired to entertain Luan and whatever biz she had to spill. Even as her mind told her to at least act a lil' more interested. It coul be serious judging by Luan's tone. "Then what is it?"
Luan leaned against the headboard and splayed her legs straight on the bed. Well, it's now or never.
"I… found a book in your backpack,"
Luna didn't react. She stayed silent with waiting. Green light. Luan thought, and continued. "I was getting my pen back from you and decided to arrange the bag since it was so messy and... couldn't help but take a little look."
Luan crossed her legs to keep warm. "I'm…worried about you. What you wrote in there was..." The words, she left hanging in the air; eyeing the tired rocker's back with worry. "What's going on with you, Luna?"
That only seemed to make Luna close up more, curling herself tighter under the blanket. Luan's heart squeezed with worry, her stomach churning with dread. For all those times she ticked Luna off to get a rise out of her, Luan still couldn't tell if this slow reaction was her either trying to process the news, or purposely ignoring her concern because that's my private biz, haven't you learned your lesson!?
Luan was right about to call out to her again, but before she could—
"How much did you read?" Luna blurted out almost defensively, her voice firm and skeptic.
Luan gulped, her heart dropping to her stomach. Okay...I definitely should've asked first. "I mean, it only had a few songs in it. I had to read it all." She shrugged, dropping a hand on the mattress, filling the small space between them.
Luna took a deep breath, turning her head forward, staring at the blank wall. She was too tired to deal with this. After earlier, and tonight, now this? Great. The mere mention of anything music made her stomach twist with dread, because her heart said I want it, but her brain said I can't.
"I won't tell on you… just tell me what's going on." Luan took a leap of faith and tentatively placed a hand on Luna's tense shoulder, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "What was with you drinking… and being trapped in your head? And running away from yourself?"
Crap. Luna sharply inhaled. She totally forgot about that she wrote those. "Don't worry about it." Luna half-chuckled, knowing her tone was so credible. Luan was totally gonna believe her, no other questions asked. "It was all experimental stuff. Trying my hand at emo rock, y'know?"
That was true. Luna hoped to believe. Technically.
No lie, it wasn't every day to witness her acting so caring. Like she wasn't gonna drop a joke-bomb any lurking moment.
The flicker of concern in Luan's face shifted into one akin to disbelief. She pulled away from Luna and crossed her arms. "Nice try. I know you better than that."
Luna snorted, noting the chipping paint off her wall. Of course, she did. They shared a room since they were babies, goodness sake. With every move they both made, the other would see it. Talk about it, or make fun of it—mainly the former thanks to Luan. And that was the problem. She made too many puns; wrong moment. After a while, she gave up on expecting Luan to return the favor of acting as her wall the way she did to the tween. She had music, after all…
Had.
"Like I told you," Luna started, her eyes fixated on a random poster on their wall. "I'm on rock bottom. Makes things worse considering we have a big performance comin' up. But I'm not doin' whack stuff like... drinking and everything. No."
"Is that really it?"
It is. Luna bit her cheek. She said she'd 'crash' early every night, but in reality, she was crushed. Crushed by thoughts that hollowed her heart out like a drill. She'd spent hours tossing and turning; tumbling down that steep hill of her thoughts, then plunging to the very bottom of the lake and letting herself sink in, hoping that maybe she could write a song about drowning. She'd pull at her hair, try breathing in nothing out of her pillow, so maybe she could write about how its like to be suffocated, how it feels to be hurt, just like what Ben Joel Armstrong said: "My anguish, is my art".
Too bad her anguish was what made her stop doing art.
"The hurt does run deeper than just writer's block." She admitted in a low mumble, finally shifting to lay on her back. That's only the tip of the iceberg. One that was melting slowly, with her on top of it all, refusing to let the waters touch her boots even if it already did.
Luna met Luan's eyes, breath catching at just how worried she was. A rare look on her. Grimacing, she flitted her gaze to the ceiling, unable to maintain that contact when her inner demons bore their own eyes at the back of her head. "I dunno what's with me lately, but I've been feeling lost. I just… can't find the beat in anything anymore."
Luna lifted the sheets up to reach her chin, feeling small under Luan's curious gaze. She hated that she felt like this, in front of her little sister, no less. "I still wanna do music, don't get me wrong, but nothing just comes in my head! It's like my gears just stopped shifting out of nowhere, and it's making me feel like... this career's just...pointless in the end."
Down-to-Earth? She could almost hear Luan quip. More like, plunging deep down to rock bottom! Get it?
"You tried going to Lily?" Was what came out of Luan's expectant voice instead. What? Luna shot her a incredulous look. "She's an idea machine, seriously! She didn't just give me an idea for a prank yesterday, she made it for me. You could use some advice?"
Luna couldn't mistake the jester in her tone, and she dropped her hopes. It wasn't a pun, but it was close. "Don't make me laugh, dude. She's two."
"Lisa?" Unlike her, Luan had an optimistic twinkle in her eyes. It was rubbing salt on her wounds over anything else. "She probably has a bot that could help you generate lyrics. Have you tried asking?" Luna sucked her lips in as she rambled on. "What about your band? Don't they help you out with writing?"
Luna had to smile a little at her eagerness to help. She appreciated the optimism and all, but that was Luan to you: you don't come to her for a listening ear; you come to her for a helping hand. She wasn't one to sit with your pain, she was the one to help you get through it, if not by making you forget.
But she didn't want that. There was more to this than her wanting to get out of the rut. "I never mind sharing the lot with others, or askin' advice or whatever Lisa's up to." Luan closed her mouth. "It's how, nowadays, I have to."
Rock and roll is running through the veins. Luan recalled.
Luna ran her fingers through her hair, growling in frustration. "This stuff always comes so naturally to me. Why do you think I'm the lead in our band? The songwriter and singer? The Goats rely on me to do those things because I'm the one who breathes lyrics out just like that. But if I can't do that... then what else am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to be?"
Luan's gaze trailed down to her lap in thought. "It's like if Linc asking us to convince the 'rents for something 'cause they won't fall for his PowerPoints anymore. That sorta thing that just makes you question who you are because you're losing grasp of that one thing that makes you you and..." Luna let out a frustrated growl, eyeing Luan desperately through her bangs. "You get where I'm going with this?"
Luan paused in thought. It all began making sense. The muse in her songs was her own slump all along. Not something serious enough to drive her to wanna jump into risky, life-changing habits, even if she did fantasize it.
But something about what Luna said about losing her light, was a feeling she grappled with not too long before too.
"This isn't about writer's block at all…" She shook her head slowly when the realization struck her. Once she realized it, she mirrored Luna's gaze with a glimmer of sureness. "You're burnt out."
"Burnt out?" Luna repeated dumbly. When thinking about that, she'd picture someone living through life on autopilot. Feeling like it's all pointless, like... there's nothing worth living for. Someone depressed.
Luna glowered incredulously at Luan. She wasn't empty; she was song-blocked. She was… confused, having no idea where to go with their next song, finding nothing to write about, and it killed her. yes—but she wasn't depressed! "Seriously?"
Luan scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand up. "Why not? You're living through the textbook symptoms of it!"
Luna furrowed her eyebrows. But she was active non-stop, back and forth, living the rock n' roll dream.
This season smelled like life began at night, looked like Polaroid shots with blinding disco lights, and sounded like voices grown raspy.
Burn out... it didn't sound right.
Luan sensed Luna's thoughts bleeding through that incredulous look that didn't leave even with her explanation. "There's no way your mind can keep up when all you ever do is music!" Before Luna could protest , she continued. "Think about it. Song writing's the only thing you've been doing since the school year began. Your mind's bound to head to a dead end."
"I mean, duh, what else am I s'posed to be doing? Music's the air that I breathe." Since the band was getting more gigs, more from the Burnt Bean, some from pubs, and some from places with known managers lurking around, it was hard not to keep composing. Did Luan not get that? "You've gotta maintain your comedy streak, and I don't see you hitting fatality?"
She paused. Yeah. She's got a business. An EyeTube account, and a ClickClock amassing five-digit followers to manage on her own. But why wasn't she suffering? Why was she balanced and well-rounded still?
Luan remembered a meme she saw recently, of a squirrel dropped down dead on the ground, panting. All he had to complain about? He was bored.
Rolling the same wheels over and over again, living a routine that was bound to kill anyone who wanted every second of life to be pumped up and hyped... Liiiike Luna.
"That's because I keep it dynamic. I mix things up." Luan stated matter-of-factly. "Sure, I gotta keep up with my pun-game. But I also have theater. And mime, and videos to make. You only have music. Just one style of it too. You're bound to run out of ideas."
Luan's face fell, and Luna followed with a hint of disappointment and impatience. "So, you're saying if I wanna get this outta my system, I gotta get new hobbies?"
"Well...Yeah." Luan flitted her gaze to the window for a brief second, before returning to her. Luna had time. Lots of it. She had two weeks before her latest gig, and nothing really came in between her and school and the band.
A new hobby. Luna bit the inside of her lip, going back to her first unofficial date with Sam. The Astonishing Quest. Laser tag? Nah... that wasn't productive enough. Dancing? Yeah, she could do that, but that wouldn't get the brain juices flowing. It was all ever physical, no creation involved. No mental exercises to help her get around and going.
"No guarantee that that'll get the jam out?" Luan shook her head. "Seriously? No other way?"
Luan stared at her, a sad glint in her eye. In that brief moment of silence, the message flew over both their heads: you can't.
Because while creating is a skill, creativity's more of a mental process. A way of looking at the world. Google would say it's easy: One, surround yourself with inspiration. Two: Walk around acting like Socrates, contemplating if that bean bag chair down there is real or not. Three: Congrats, you're thinking creatively!
"There is an alternative..."
Luna already knew what Luan was gonna say. She might as well say gaslight her into believing she's not cut out for this stuff anymore. " Take a break."
"Damn it." Luna let out a guttural groan, jerking her foot in a kicking gesture. "I can't just 'take a break!' The band's gonna flop without me!"
There was that pressure of performing right, for the sake of a group. Luan understood, and that's why she worked as a one-woman show.
She let Luna seethe in silence as her mind overworked itself, gears clanging in her head, trying to spark up a solution, a logical remedy against the drought of her ingenuity. When the plot ideas weren't coming to her, she'd surf through ideas online. Not to take inspiration from it, no, but more to challenge herself. I can write better than this, she'd think. And then she would.
That's just how the cycle worked. When you're a creative, you struggle between the battle of wanting to consume, but also wanting to produce. In reality, the solution was so simple: You can't give without taking.
But she knew Luna well. While she loved music, all genres of it, her inspiration relied solely on rock, and last time she checked, this wasn't Y2K anymore. Punk's been considered an artifact since pop swept the world away. Everyone, even the ones responsible for the 90's fever know that; shown in how they never wrote new songs, rerecording their hits instead.
By this point, there was only so many songs Luna could jam to before running out, before realizing that to find a new rock song was to wait on the dead to wake up.
And even if Luna had the finesse of a true rock star. There were only so many tunes you could think of.
Luan frowned at the thought. At least with comedy, you can find the joke in anything.
The joke in anything...
Wait. Maybe that's it.
"When I said you need to mix things up... I meant in a lot of ways." Luan perked up, tossing her legs to the edge of the bed and hopping off. "Even genres."
Luna whipped her head up to follow where Luan was going, snapping out of her frustrated trance. She didn't hear her the first time, but before she could ask twice, Luan was back to their bed, holding her acoustic by the neck.
She climbed up the ladder with a grunt, shooting Luna a brief smile. "Sit up."
Huh? She furrowed her eyebrows as Luan settled down beside her, refusing to do what she said. "Dude, wha...? You seriously asking me to play the guitar right now?"
Luan shook her head. She gestured the guitar towards Luna, urging her to take it.
In order to get one's gears shifting, they need oil poured into their engines first. If Luna couldn't find inspiration in anything, maybe what she needed was someone to pour it down on her.
Luna opened her mouth to speak, stumbling on her words. What the heck was Luan up to? She watched as the comedian unclipped the capo from the headstock, moving it down to the second fret. Realization blasted over her like a mushroom cloud.
Oh. Oh no. She let out an irritable groan, finally deciding to push herself up with shaky arms. Her hair was frazzled and her clothes wrinkled from lying down. Luan's gonna make a joke about it again. Of course. "Dude... if this is Wonderwall..."
Wasn't the first time Luan pulled that out to make her grin. It got old real fast, but it always did get her mind off stuff. That and Luan loved seeing her grumble and grow frustrated.
Luan shook her head, her heart thudding faster in her chest, she was beginning to feel it now. Luna grabbed her guitar, elbowing her arm to ask for space. She took the message. This could work. This has to.
"It's kinda sudden but..." Luan treaded, shifting carefully to sit across her. Once settled, she waited for Luna to finish rubbing her eyes off sleep and look at her again. "I want you to sing any rock song you like... but in ballad."
Luna paused in thought. That is sudden. But then again, this was Luan, queen of randomness. She repositioned the guitar so its curve laid on left thigh. "Why...?"
"Just try." Luan answered vaguely.
For a moment, Luna wanted to drop it. She glared at Luan skeptically; song requests? At three in the morning?
There was something to her tone, the vagueness in her words that told Luna this was part of a plan, or some sort of experiment Luan wanted her to perform. She'd heard the same voice all too well before, with Lincoln and Lisa.
It's just a song... in ballad. That shouldn't be that hard.
"But ballad's not my thing?" She glanced at her guitar, before looking back at Luan, who nodded at her Though their knees practically touched, a space laid between them in the form of a question mark. "What's this supposed to do with anythin'?"
"Trust me." She insisted, growing impatient. "Just do it."
With a huff, she stared at the wall. Any song, huh... in ballad. Yeah. That shouldn't be too hard. It's ballad. Slow-dancing jam. Play It Loud... slowed, reverbed. Luna mentally flinched. Def not her buzz.
But fine. If Luan insists. She'd stay up here all night until Luna gave in, knowing her.
Clenching her teeth, Luna positioned removed the capo entirely. With her finesse, capos were for amateurs. She only had that on it in case Lincoln decided he'd borrow it. She breathed through the slit of her teeth, her fingers instinctively positioning itself to the right strings. It was a part of her... this shouldn't be too tricky.
Why did it feel like the opposite, though?
Slow. Slower than the norm, Lunes. She began strumming in a pace minus the energy the original had.
"How do I go on when my dreams are ripped in torn?
I'm tired and I don't wanna fake it anymore,"
Luna sung in a hushed whisper, glancing up at Luan, who nodded at her approvingly. Her stomach churned at the sound of her voice. Not that it sounded weird... just... foreign.
"When I talk too much and I feel like I'm about to break,
You always come around and the darkness fades away, it fades away,"
Breathing in, she continued, trying to maintain the steady strum despite her arm tingling to go faster. This felt... strange. Hearing this punk song, go slow. Luna knew that had she softened her voice a little more, lowered it, it'd sound raw, more emotional as a result.
It actually sounded good, though.
Gaining momentum, her strumming grew harder, fingertips fully grazing the strings now. A new atmosphere swept over her, similar to the awakening she'd got during her first concert. It felt like she was born again. Whoa…
"Every time I feel alone,
Like the walls are caving in, like I never win,
Like there there's crawlin' under my skin,"
Luna didn't even notice the smile that grew on her face as she met Luan's eyes.
She knew this song too, hearing Luna constantly hum it as she slipped through the halls, listened to it play on repeat on her phone speakers. Luan found irony in the lyrics but not pointing it out. Rather, nodding along to the song instead.
"You're the antidote,
Even when it hurts the most,
And I'm tryna find a way but there's no escape,
Like a poison filling my veins,
You're the antidote."
Like every good thing, the song had to come to an end. Staccato chords reverberated round the room. Luna strummed the instrumental, coming into a fading speed as she finished.
And then, silence.
"That was..." Luna looked down at her guitar. "Refreshing."
"See what'd I tell ya?" Luna turned up to find Luan flashing a proud grin at her. "All you needed was to switch things up a little. Doesn't it feel great?"
She scoffed. The way Luan made it sound, she didn't wanna admit to how right she was. "I don't see how this is gonna help me write new lyrics." Luna mindlessly drummed the wood. Buuut… it did make me a tad bit better."
On second thought, maybe it did sound good. Romantic. Maybe their next song should be a slow rock. Love song.
Luan's eyes brightened with an idea, and her face twisted into a smirk. Luna knew that look. Oh, God… She braced herself. Luan never misses the opportunity.
"Hand me that guitar real quick."
Luna instinctively pulled it closer. Yep, I knew it. "What do you know about music?"
"I room with you," Luan eyed her, incredulous. "I know more than your average joe. Now, try me."
Luna narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but she couldn't help a playful smile from crossing her features. "I swear if you're gonna play what I think… I'm gonna break your fingers off."
"Aw, come on, let yourself go," Luan encouraged. "You out of all people know that, see."
The strings buzzed and screeched around the room as Luan attempted to play Oasis for the nth time she had access to her acoustic guitar.
That's not even the worst part. Singing the first stanza, she banged her head ridiculously hard, squeezing out what might her vocal cords had in mimicking what seemed to be a raspy voice, but she sounded strangled instead.
Luna rolled her eyes, deciding she wouldn't stand for this BS again. She jerked forward and snatched the guitar from her. Poor thing's been yanked so many times tonight, she was the neck would break any moment.
"Poser." Luna muttered, settling the instrument back on her lap.
Luan shot her a brief glare. " Am I a good poser?"
"You gotta be kiddin' me." Luna chuckled half-heartedly only to fall on deaf ears as Luan moved the capo on the fourth fret, trying to position her hands on a certain chord. For someone as expert as Luna, seeing the effort took her back to her younger years, and it was adorable.
"You tryin' to go for an E minor?" When Luan nodded mindlessly, Luna perked up, reaching out to position Luan's fingers. Then, when she did that, Luan began a slow pattern of strums, and she smiled. It was always great to see a sibling share her interest for once.
Wait, wait, wait… Luan shifted from G, to B minor; this song—
Her breath caught. It was her favorite.
"Dude?" Luna's voice came out like a wisp to the air.
For a second, Luan went quiet, focusing on the music, before singing in her normal voice.
"Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways to make it alone
Or keep a straight face..."
Luna's mouth went slack, but she quickly shut it before Luan could make fun of her. She knew about Luan's trysts at school, seen her performances, but never heard her sing this up close. She sounded amazing.
And when did she start listening to Paramore?
She blinked as Luan continued strumming. It wasn't perfect. The strings buzzed awkwardly and paused happened in between her switching chords. But it was foreign, still. Seeing Luan with a guitar, or any instrument whatever was a duo she'd never thought she'd see.
They locked eyes, and Luan nodded at her, heartening her to sing along.
Luna chuckled; how could she ever say no? The words came out of her so naturally, like spoken poetry from the heart.
"I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now I had sworn to myself
That I'm content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk,"
Luna forgot that that song even existed, and to hear it again took her back to the first day, first-time seeing Sam. Geometry class. It felt like sophomore year all over again.
Sophomore year.. the air was different back then.
Her eyes widened and a familiar, happy warmth flushed through her body. That catches. We could write about that!
The strings were pulled tighter, much louder, and Luna continued, feeling renewed energy in her veins from hearing this all over. "But you are the only exception,"
"You are the only exception," Luan joined in and to Luna's surprise, they harmonized surprisingly well. Someone with a soft, slightly tingling voice with a husky tone; and she never knew it could make such a smooth blend.
They smiled at each other, becoming a mass of giggles singing along to the song. This felt like a dream... a poetic movie scene. Just her and Luan, the last person she'd ever find herself doing this, duetting to a song they both knew. The summer atmosphere was soaked in the right temp, and the lamp cascading them was all the company that they needed.
And just like magic, chills went through Luna's arm at the blast of ideas she could write about based off this moment. A story, woven into a song. Yes...!
"You are the only exception..."
Luan slowed her strumming, nearing an end to the music. "You are the only exception."
The room grew silent with the finish to their little duet. And for a brief second, they both reeled from the experience. It wasn't the first time they'd sang together casually, when Luna hummed to a tune and Luan followed. But under the context they were in... and the amount of seriousness Luan sang...
A relieved groan came muffled through their wall, and a thud followed. "Finally! About time I get my beauty sleep!"
Whoops. They both exchanged looks and snickered.
"Sorry, sis...!" Luna whispered to the air.
Silence followed, Lola must've snoozed off.
Luan snorted, draping her arm over the guitar. "She could've at least given us feedback."
"Preach, brah. Preach." Luna raised her palm up in salute. Last time she teamed up with Luan for a musical comedy, that was all there was to it. Just comedy.
But when it boils down to it, Luan wasn't bad. They'd make a great team.
But that could come for later. Luna pulled her phone out, quickly to jot down the ideas she'd been carrying the moment they sang together. All the lyrics she could write. Connect together with the talk that just happened now and the duet they just had.
"See?" She turned up and found Luan smirking at her knowingly. "It's working, isn't it?"
Luna rolled her eyes. She never liked admitting Luan was right. Not when the girl herself barely took herself seriously.
Wordlessly, Luan skipped down the bunk, returning the guitar to the stand it was propped in.
The joker wasn't kidding though. Luna typed down the words, catchy one-liners, descriptive stanzas of today's throwaway.
Luan glanced up at her older sister, her face bathed with blue-light, eyes engrossed and fingers frantically clicking on keys.
She smiled. Luan Loud: Comedian, Actress, Mentor to Creatives of All Ages.
Better add that to her resume.
She slipped into her bed, letting a goodnight slip into the air before dozing off.
Luna half-heartedly returned it, still typing out her latest composition into her notes. Her fingers strained, and her mind worked overdrive, too fast to last.
The fun dies when you turn it into funds,
You run trying to look for anything under the sun
See if everything's dense
Your hobbies turn to your expense
All you really need is experience
And it'll all start making sense.
Luna bent her thumb real hard, pausing for a second to recover from the strain. With a grimace, she continued typing one last line.
Cause you can't write without reading,
And you can't sing without seeing.