Author's Note: New Chapter! Been working on it for a while. Enjoy. Feedback is recommended!
Setting: The Loud House, specifically the attic. It's dark and dusty, filled with old boxes, Christmas decorations, and forgotten furniture draped in sheets. Kid sits cross-legged in the shadows, hidden between stacks of boxes. He's quiet, breathing slowly to avoid detection by the adults downstairs. If the Loud parents find out he's here, he knows he'll be thrown out for sure, and Lily will be crushed. It's strange, he thinks, that someone actually wants him around—but Lily is only four, so what does she know? She probably doesn't realize what a mess he is.
As he sits in the quiet attic, surrounded by shadows and dust, Kid's mind drifts back to memories he can't quite shake. His past has a way of creeping up on him when he's alone, those memories lurking like ghosts that won't rest.
Kid's Flashback: His Old Home
Kid sits at the kitchen table in his old house, a small, cramped space that smells faintly of bleach and burned toast. His mother, Mrs. Turner, stands by the sink, her arms crossed, her gaze icy as she stares him down.
Mrs. Turner (voice sharp, filled with disdain): Honestly, Kid, why do you have to be such a disappointment? Can't you see how easy you have it compared to Tina? She's already got top marks in school, winning awards. And what about you? Nothing to show for yourself but a bunch of silly doodles. Do you think we care about those?
Kid stares down at his hands, which are clenched in his lap. He feels that familiar ache in his chest, the one he's learned to ignore as best he can. His father, Mr. Turner, enters the room, his gaze flicking over Kid with a look of irritation.
Mr. Turner (scoffing): Your mother's right, you know. You think the world's going to give you handouts because you've got "artistic talent"? Art doesn't pay the bills. You need to grow up and stop wasting everyone's time.
Kid swallows, his mouth dry. He wants to speak up, to defend himself, but he knows it won't make any difference. It never does. His parents have already made up their minds: he's worthless, a burden, a "mistake" that they have to put up with because there's no other choice.
Kid (thinking, voice bitter even as he stays silent): I didn't ask to be here, either. I didn't ask for any of this.
Suddenly, his sister, Tina, walks into the kitchen, her expression smug as she glances at Kid. She's fourteen, with a perfect, practiced smile that can melt the hearts of strangers but hides a manipulative edge that only Kid knows all too well.
Tina (sweetly, with a fake smile): Oh, Mom, Dad, don't be too hard on him. He tries his best—he's just not… you know, talented or driven. Some people just don't have what it takes. (She gives him a fake sympathetic look.) Isn't that right, Kid?
Kid grits his teeth, feeling the anger bubble up inside him, but he forces himself to stay quiet. He's learned that nothing he says will change their minds. To them, Tina is perfect. She gets away with everything because she's the "successful" one, the "gifted" child who brings pride to the family. And Kid? He's just the unwanted extra.
Back in the attic, Kid's hands are clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he remembers those words. The sting of being disregarded, of being treated as if he doesn't matter, still feels fresh even after all these years.
Kid (thinking, voice laced with bitterness): I'm "meaningless." That's what they used to say. That I was some random kid they had to put up with. Even my name tells you how much thought they put into me. "Kid." They couldn't even be bothered to come up with a real name. I was just… something that happened. A mistake they couldn't erase.
He leans back against the boxes, staring up at the wooden beams above him. The attic is quiet, a thick silence settling around him, and he feels both safe and stifled at the same time. He hates hiding up here, but there's a strange comfort in the dark, hidden corners. It's better than being out in the open, where people can see him, judge him, and decide he's not worth their time.
Flashback: The Money Incident
Kid is in his old room, counting a few crumpled dollar bills he managed to save over months of scraping together change and doing odd chores. It's not much, but he's been saving up for a sketchbook—one that isn't full of torn pages and broken spirals. Just as he's counting his savings, Tina bursts into the room without knocking.
Tina (eyeing the money, her smile sly): What's this? Saving up for something useless, I bet. Let me guess… art supplies? That's cute.
Kid pulls the money closer, feeling his face flush with anger. He doesn't trust Tina, not with anything valuable. She's always taken what she wants, and she knows just how to charm their parents into believing she deserves it.
Kid (muttering, defensive): It's my money. Go away, Tina. You've got everything you need, so leave me alone.
Tina lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart as if he's hurt her deeply.
Tina (mockingly): Wow, Kid. I didn't realize you were so selfish. Don't you know I need money for the school dance? But I guess you wouldn't understand that, since… well, who'd want to go with you?
Kid grits his teeth, refusing to rise to her taunts. He knows that's what she wants—for him to get angry, so she can play the victim and make him look like the bad guy. But before he can do anything, she reaches forward, snatching the money out of his hands.
Kid (protesting, desperate): Give it back, Tina! That's mine!
Tina (laughing, tucking the money into her pocket): Oh, come on. It's not like you're going to use it for anything important. Besides, I deserve it more than you do. I actually have a life. You're just a charity case in this family, you know that?
Kid feels his face burn with humiliation and anger as she leaves, his hard-earned savings gone in an instant. He's powerless, just like always, and Tina knows it. To her, he's nothing more than a convenient target, someone she can swindle and manipulate because she knows he doesn't have the courage to fight back.
Back in the attic, Kid's face is set in a scowl, his mind replaying the memory of Tina's smirk, the glint of triumph in her eyes as she took his money without a second thought.
Kid (thinking, bitterly): She's the "perfect" one. That's what they all think. She's the one who makes them proud, the one who can do no wrong. And me? I'm just here to fill the space, to be a punching bag, a walking reminder of everything they don't want. Well, fine. If that's what they want, I'll give it to them. I'll be the problem they wish they could forget.
He leans back against the boxes, closing his eyes as he tries to push the memories away, but they keep coming, each one a reminder of why he's learned to be cynical, to expect the worst. Trust, kindness—those are luxuries he can't afford. Not in his world.
In the dim attic, he's startled by a small creak as the door cracks open. His heart races, but then he hears a familiar, soft voice.
Lily (whispering, peeking inside): Mistew Kid? Aw you hewe?
He lets out a sigh, his tension easing as he sees her small figure silhouetted in the doorway. She closes the door behind her, padding over to him with her bunny in hand. She looks up at him with wide, curious eyes, a faint pout on her lips.
Lily (quietly, concerned): Why awe you hiding?
Kid gives a wry smile, ruffling her hair gently.
Kid (sighing): Gotta stay out of sight, kiddo. Your parents aren't too thrilled about me being here. I'm like… a stray cat that snuck in through the back door.
Lily frowns, her little brow furrowing as she hugs her bunny closer.
Lily (firmly, with all the confidence of a four-year-old): You awe not a stway! You'we my fwiend. I'll tell Mommy and Daddy that you'we good, and then they'll like you. I know it!
Kid chuckles, though it's a hollow sound. He's heard that before—people promising that things will get better, that he just has to "give it time." But he knows better now. People don't change; they don't suddenly decide to care.
Kid (thinking, cynical but touched): She doesn't understand how people are. But I'm not going to be the one to shatter her illusions. Not yet.
He shrugs, leaning back against the boxes as he tries to push away the memories, the bitterness. For now, he's here, in a house that's messy and loud but full of something he can't quite define—a warmth he doesn't know how to handle.
Kid (softly, glancing at Lily): You know, kiddo, I appreciate you sticking up for me. But you might be the only one in the world who thinks I'm worth the trouble.
Lily tilts her head, clearly confused.
Lily (innocently): Why wouldn't they think you'we wowth it? You awe to me.
Her words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he doesn't know what to say. He feels a flicker of something he hasn't felt in a long time—hope. It's fragile, small, but it's there, growing in the quiet moments he shares with her.
The two of them sit in silence, the dim attic filled with dust motes floating lazily in the sunlight filtering through a small window. Kid feels the weight of his past pressing down on him, but with Lily beside him, it doesn't feel as heavy. For the first time in years, he feels like maybe he doesn't have to carry it alone.
He glances at Lily, who's now busy playing with her bunny, humming to herself. A small, reluctant smile crosses his face.
Kid (thinking, feeling a tiny spark of something good): Maybe… just maybe… there's something worth staying for.*
For now, he lets himself believe in that spark, even if it's only for a moment. And as Lily looks up at him with her wide, trusting eyes, he decides that maybe, for her sake, he'll try. Just a little.