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What She'd Been Missing	By : Trillhouse Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 8870 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Notes:
Well, this certainly took a lot longer than expected. Sorry, guys... I've been focusing more on my art as well, which eats up a lot of my time. I'll try harder to balance the two in the future.
Anyway, not much to say this time around. As of late I've been writing a lot of greentext stories for 4chan. These are shorter, self-contained stories, but still within my usual style. Content is widely varied, both SFW and NSFW. If you're interested, you can check them out at pastebin.com/u/Trillhouse

Lincoln's head started to teeter slightly, his eyelids growing heavy. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since Friday, only taking short naps when he needed to. This wasn't simply due to his work, however… the man's dreams were plagued with visions of his sister straddling him, claiming him… and, most upsettingly, he himself giving into his pleasure. Lincoln slapped himself back awake and forced himself to sit up straight. He needed to focus. He took a deep breath, then exhaled and got back to work.
He'd spent nearly all of Sunday with his nose to the grindstone, working hard to get back on schedule. Today would be no different. Lincoln was no stranger to this sort of struggle, but then again he'd never been in a situation quite like this before. He was tempted to simply bite the bullet and ask for an extension, but he knew he could meet his deadline as long as he stayed focused.
Probably.
Just as he pressed his stylus to the monitor, the loud RING of his phone startled him and made him put a thick line all the way through the page. He groaned and hit UNDO before checking the caller ID. His heart instantly sank into his stomach: it was Lola. Any time she or her twin sister called, Lincoln knew he was in for a bad time… as much as he would have liked to ignore it, he knew she would just keep calling until he answered. With a small sigh of resignation, he picked up the phone.
"Hel-"
'LINCOLN!' A shrill voice screeched directly into his ear, making him wince. 'You will not BELIEVE what that fucking WHORE Lana did this time!'
"…What'd she do this time, Lola?" Lincoln asked, despite already knowing fully well what the answer would be.
'That traitorous CUNT has been screwing my boyfriend behind my back for WEEKS!'
…Yep, Lincoln thought. As expected. "…I'm sorry to hear that, Lola." He grumbled, trying his best to keep working while his sister ranted.
'That fucking… GREASEBALL! Josh was MY man, and she just-'
"…Wait. Wasn't Josh Lana's boyfriend? The one you slept with?" Lincoln asked. His little sister scoffed in response.
'Ugh, come ON, not you too.' Lola groaned. 'That was like a YEAR ago, Linky. Water under the bridge.'
"Ah. Right. My apologies." Lincoln muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Look, Lola, I'm kind of busy, so-"
'I have had it up to HERE with her, Lincoln!' At this point Lincoln noticed his phone had begun to vibrate. 'You need to tell-'
"Uh, hang on a second. I'm getting another call." Lincoln said, doing his best to suppress his joy at the distraction.
'Don't you DARE-'
Lola's voice was mercifully cut short as her brother switched lines. "He-"
'LINCOLN!'
"…Hello, Lana." Lincoln groaned. He should have known it wouldn't be so easy.
'Don't listen to that skank! Josh was MINE!' The auto mechanic cried. 'She's the one that's been fucking him behind MY back!'
"Mmm. Tragic." Lincoln grunted. Some things never changed. The twins lived together, sharing a revolving door of boyfriends; these relationships would invariably end the same way each time. Of course, this meant that the two were nearly always at each other's throats, and they still expected Lincoln to solve their disputes for them. Not that he could… both were far too stubborn to listen to reason.
'She never changes, Lincoln! She still thinks she can just… TAKE whatever she wants! Well, I've had it! You tell her that I want her OUT!'
"Why don't you just tell her yourself?" Lincoln asked, clicking his tongue in frustration as he attempted to get Ace Savvy's bicep just right.
'I am NOT talking to her ever again!' Lana said. 'And this time I mean it! She's DEAD to me!'
"Alright, alright… I'll pass it along. Hang on." Lincoln said half-heartedly.
'And tell her I said she's a bitch!' Lana added before her brother switched lines.
"Okay, sorry about-"
'What the FUCK, Lincoln?!' Lola shouted.
"Sorry, Lola." Lincoln sighed. "Listen, I was just talking to Lana, and-"
'Oh, PLEASE. You can't trust a single thing that comes out of her lying mouth!' His bratty sister snapped.
"R-right… anyway, she says that Josh was her boyfriend, and-"
'I told you, that was AGES ago!' Lola scoffed. 'That idiot just doesn't know how to let things go!'
"Yeah, well, she doesn't seem to think so." Lincoln explained as he set down his stylus, giving up on multitasking for the time being. "And she wants you to move out."
'W-wha… ME?!' Lola sputtered. 'Why that little…! If anyone should move out it's HER! You tell her that I want HER out-'
"Look, Lola-"
'DON'T CUT ME OFF!' His little sister shrieked, cutting him off. Lincoln massaged his temples in exasperation. 'You tell that grease monkey that if she's not out by the end of the week, I'll throw her out myself!'
"…Alright, whatever." Lincoln grumbled. "Hang on."
'And tell her I hate her guts!' Lola shouted before Lincoln switched lines again.
"Hey, Lana." Lincoln said. "Just talked to Lola."
'Did you call her a bitch?'
"…Sure." The artist lied, making little attempt to hide the frustration in his voice. "Look, Lola's saying she wants you to move out."
'WHAT?!' Lana snapped.
"Look, I'm just the messenger." Lincoln muttered.
'Oh, that TEARS it… she thinks she can boss me around?!' Lincoln heard his sister angrily stomp her way across the floor and throw open a door. 'You listen HERE, you prissy little-'
'No, YOU listen!' Lola cried. 'I'm sick and tired of your bullshit! You come home smelling like a trash heap, you leave fucking oil stains all over everything, you steal MY boyfri-'
'Josh was MINE, you liar!' Lana snapped.
'Was NOT!'
'Was TOO!'
'Only because you stole him away from ME!' Lola screamed.
'Well, maybe if you were willing to take it in the ass every now and then you'd be able to hold onto a man!' Lana shot back.
'Ugh… as IF!' Said Lola, her disgust evident in her voice. 'I'm not some filthy slut like YOU, Lana! I have standards!'
'Oh, really? YOU'RE not a slut?" Lana replied sarcastically. 'JOSH certainly thinks so.'
'Y-you… you fucking… that is IT! I want you out of my house! I want you out of my LIFE!'
'YOUR house?!' The mechanic shouted. 'MY name is on the lease!'
'So is MINE!' Lola countered.
'Yeah? When's the last time you paid rent?!'
'I-I'm between jobs, Lana!' Lola stammered.
'Sure, BETWEEN jobs. Right.' Lana sneered. 'I'm sure there are PLENTY of modeling agencies looking to hire a washed up, bloated SKANK.'
'I am NOT-'
'Why don't you just give up and sell your body?' Lana said with a note of smugness to her voice. 'Might as well upgrade from slut to whore, right?'
'YOU BIT-'
Lincoln sighed and hung up. There was no use listening in any further; besides, he'd heard far too much information as is. He knew fully well that this wouldn't amount to anything… neither of the girls would move out. They would fume for a few days, make up, and the cycle would ultimately repeat itself. The cuck twins were eternal.
He shook his head to refocus himself. "Alright… back to work." Lincoln muttered, picking up his stylus. But once again, the moment the nib touched the screen his phone rang once more. Lincoln growled in frustration, slamming the stylus down on the desk and snatching up his phone. "Look, can you please work this shit out for yourselves?!" He shouted into the receiver. "I'm too fucking busy for this!"
'...Er… I'm sorry, but I'm trying to reach a Mr. Lincoln Loud?' An unfamiliar female voice said. Lincoln felt his face heat up; he slumped back in his chair, letting out a low groan.
"…Speaking." The ashamed man mumbled. "S-sorry about that… I thought you were someone else."
'Quite all right.' The woman said in a calm, composed tone. 'My name is Dr. Amita Patel.'
"Oh!" Lincoln straightened up. "You're Loan's psychiatrist, right?"
'That's correct. I've just spoken with her mother… I understand that Loan will be in your care for the foreseeable future?'
"Yeah… that's right." Said Lincoln. "Lori said you'd want to meet me in person."
'Yes… Loan included, of course.' Dr. Patel said. 'Your sister is covering the fee, so you don't need to worry about that.'
"O-oh… okay. Great." Lincoln made a mental note to thank Lori later. "Um… when do you have an availability?"
'Well, you're in luck… my eleven-o-clock tomorrow has cancelled, so I could fit you in then. If that works for you, of course.'
Lincoln opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He was going to decline due to his work, but he couldn't… it was bad enough that he was too busy to spend time with his daughter, and he wasn't about to put this off too. Besides, the sooner he dealt with it the better. "…Yeah. Yeah, that's fine." He said reluctantly. He'd really need to buckle down and work his ass off this week.
'Excellent. I will see you tomorrow, then.' Dr. Patel replied. 'I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Loud.'
"Yeah… likewise. See you then." Lincoln ended the call and set his phone back down on his desk. "…Shit." He said under his breath. He glanced over at his monitor and sighed, getting to his feet; he figured he should let Loan know about the appointment. Besides, he really needed some coffee.

"Darn it…" Loan grumbled as her worst party member died for the third time, making the team fail their hunt. She didn't understand how the guy got all the way to Shagaru Magala while being so inept… no doubt he had simply relied on better players to carry him through the game. Still, at least they'd managed to hack off and carve the monster's tail for parts; she needed them for her armor set.
Loan jumped as she heard a gentle knock on her door. "Y-yes…?"
"Hey Loan, it's me." Came the voice of her father from the other side. "Can I come in?" Loan breathed a small sigh of relief. Then again, it's not like it could have been anyone else… Bobby and his mother were at school and work, respectively.
Not that Bobby would waste his time on you anyway.
"Y-yes… come in." She said, setting aside her 5DS.
Lincoln let himself in, a warm smile on his face as per usual. "Hey, how's it-" Lincoln's eyes widened slightly as he laid eyes on the state of things: Loan was lying on her unmade bed in 1-Up mushroom shirt and gray pajama bottoms, several open bags of chips next to her and her sheets covered with crumbs and cheese dust. She'd only unpacked halfway, and one of the smaller boxes was being used as a makeshift trash can and already overflowing with empty packages of snacks. "…Wow. Lori wasn't kidding, huh…" Lincoln muttered.
"S-sorry!" Loan stammered, bolting upright. "I… got a little too comfortable…" She scratched the side of her cheek, giving a nervous laugh.
"It's fine," Lincoln assured her. "We'll uh… we'll figure things out. Maybe no Doritos on the bed, okay?" His daughter gave a sheepish nod.
"…Sorry, uncle Lincoln." She muttered, before realizing what she said. "I-I mean, dad! Sorry…"
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it." Lincoln chuckled and leant against the doorframe. "Anyway, I just got off the phone with Dr. Patel." Loan noticeably perked up at this. "I set up an appointment for tomorrow."
Loan frowned slightly. "Tomorrow…?"
"Something wrong?"
"N-no… that's fine." Loan said with a shake of her head. The truth of the matter is, she never liked actually going to Dr. Patel's office. Aside from the fact that going out anywhere was difficult for her, the fact that it was a psychiatrist's office meant that the other patients in the waiting room tended to be... unique. Quite frankly, it made Loan feel uncomfortable.
Who the fuck are you to talk?
"Um… what time…?" She asked.
"Eleven." Lincoln replied. Loan winced; that meant she'd have to get up at a reasonable hour.
"…Alright." Loan forced a smirk. "Thanks, dad." Lincoln returned her smile with one of his own.
"So… how's everything going?" He asked. "You settling in alright?" Loan nodded.
"Y-yes… I am." She said. "Um… how's work…?" Her father's cheerful expression faltered slightly.
"It's… going…" He muttered, scratching the back of his head. He walked to his daughter's bed and sat down at the end. "I'm sorry, Loan." Loan frowned and scooted up beside him.
"Sorry for what?"
"I should be spending time with you, you know…? Getting to know you. But instead I'm just working." Lincoln said quietly. "Maybe I should ask for an extension…"
"No! It's… it's okay!" Loan assured him, frantically waving her hands. "I-I couldn't ask you to put your life on hold just because of me! I've been enough of a bother as is…"
"Loan, you're not a bother. You're my daughter. We have twenty-one years to catch up on, and it's just…" Lincoln sighed. "I shouldn't be working right now. It's not fair to you." Loan's brow furrowed; she looked away, chewing her lip for a moment.
"You've… done so much for me already. Too much. I… I can't even begin to express how much I appreciate that." Loan looked at her father, a small smile crossing her face. "Do what you need to do. I can wait a bit longer."
Lincoln remained silent a moment and took a deep breath through his nose. "I promise, as soon as I'm done with this assignment I'll make time for you. All the time you want." Loan nodded, beaming at her father.
"I look forward to it."
Lincoln chuckled and lightly ruffled the girl's hair before getting to his feet. "I'd better get back to work. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay. A-and, um…" Loan averted her eyes, twiddling her thumbs sheepishly. "I'd like… I'd like to learn how to do some stuff. Around the house, I mean. T-to help. You've been nice enough to let me live here, so… I figure I should return the favor."
"That won't be a problem." Lincoln said with a grin. "But… you shouldn't feel like you owe us anything, Loan. Like I said, you're my daughter… the only one I've got. There's no way in hell I wouldn't take you in." Loan frowned slightly.
"I, um… I don't think most people would." Loan said quietly. "I'm not… normal." Lincoln could hear the pain in his daughter's voice; it was like a spear piercing directly through his heart.
"You know…" Lincoln muttered. "If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that 'normal' is just a word."

"Hey, Bobby… yo, Earth to Bobby."
"…Huh?" Bobby snapped out of his daze and looked up at the rotund boy seated across from him. "Oh… y-yeah…?"
"You okay?" The boy asked. "You've barely eaten your lunch." Bobby glanced down at the half-eaten chicken sandwich sitting before him. His father had made it… and while he may not be quite on the same level as his mother, he was no slouch when it came to cooking. Still, delicious as it was, Bobby didn't have much of an appetite at the moment.
"Uh… not really hungry." Bobby muttered. "…You want it?" He added, taking note of how the other boy's gaze kept flicking towards the sandwich.
"Don't mind if I do!" The boy said without hesitation, immediately reaching across the table and taking it. Bobby couldn't help but grimace as he ate nearly half of the thing in a single bite. Charlie had already finished his own lunch, of course… he was a fast eater. "So," He mumbled through a mouthful of food before swallowing. "Something wrong? You're even quieter than usual today."
"…Home stuff." Bobby said quietly. Charlie was perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend, though he wouldn't quite consider him to be such. They'd never hung out outside of school, and in fact rarely saw each other outside of lunch; the boy was two grades above him, after all. Bobby, being unusually well-read and verbose for a child his age, found it hard to connect with the other kids in his class. Not that he had much in common with Charlie aside from their shared interest in video games, but he was grateful to at least have someone to sit with at lunch.
"Like… good home stuff, or bad home stuff?"
"…I don't know yet. Just… home stuff." Bobby muttered. Charlie raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. He was used to Bobby's withdrawn nature by now.
"Well… anything else new?" Charlie asked in a vain attempt to start a conversation. "Read the new Ace Savvy?"
"…No." Bobby sighed. "I don't like comics."
"Oh… right." Charlie grumbled. He found it unusual that the son of a comic artist didn't like comics, but he never bothered to question it… there was a lot about Bobby that could be considered unusual. Still, he liked the boy well enough.
Then, Bobby was suddenly jostled by someone's elbow striking the back of his shoulder as they walked past. "Whoops, sorry 'bout that, Dobby." A callous voice taunted from behind him. "Guess I should watch where I'm going." Bobby turned and glared at the offender: a far larger boy than him, with light brown hair and a perpetually smug sneer glued to his face. A lanky boy stood nearby, guffawing into his palm.
"…It's Bobby." Bobby muttered, only to shrink back as his bully leant forward, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
"What was that?" He asked in a low, threatening voice. Bobby swallowed and focused his gaze at the floor.
"N-nothing, Hayden..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Hayden chuckled and roughly tousled the smaller boy's hair before standing upright. "You always were a smart lil' guy." He walked off with his goon in tow, and Bobby let out a sigh as he turned back towards the table. He was met by the unimpressed face of Charlie.
"…What." He muttered. Charlie frowned and shook his head in exasperation.
"You gotta stop letting them walk all over you, Bobby." The overweight boy groaned. Bobby huffed and averted his gaze.
"…It's fine." Bobby grumbled under his breath. "If I ignore them, they'll get bored of it." Charlie just sighed and leant forward, resting his chubby face on his palm.
"Take it from me, that's a load of bull. All it does is make them try harder." Charlie said. "You gotta assert yourself. Fight back! I used to get picked on too, and now look at me… nobody messes with big Chuck." He puffed out his chest proudly, but Bobby just stared him with a raised eyebrow.
"You're twice as big as everyone in your grade. I'm not." Bobby pointed out. "He'd kill me."
"Well… maybe, but at least you'd go down fighting." Charlie said with a shrug. Bobby just rolled his eyes. He knew Charlie meant well, but he was far too much of a wimp to do anything about the situation. All he could do was grin and bear it.
…Or sulk and bear it, at least.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. As the other students began cleaning up, Charlie quickly scarfed down the rest of Bobby's sandwich before getting to his feet. "Anyway… whatever this 'home stuff' is, I hope you figure it out soon."
"…Yeah. Thanks, Charlie." Bobby mumbled before heading off to join his class. "See you."
As usual, Bobby made a point of standing at the back of the line as the students were led back to class, his gaze focused on the ground and his hands jammed deep into his hoodie pockets. He preferred to be out of sight when he could… he always felt like everyone's eyes were on him when his back was turned. He knew they weren't, but it felt like they were.
Unfortunately, he wasn't paying enough attention to where he was going, and bumped into the boy in front of him when the group came to a stop. He turned and glared at Bobby in annoyance, making him shrink back. "S-s-sorry…" He whispered sheepishly. The other boy just rolled his eyes dismissively, giving a small shake of his head before heading into the classroom.
"Robert, no dawdling." Mrs. Heathers scolded him. "And stand up straight, for goodness' sake." Bobby muttered a barely-audible apology before shuffling into the room.
As much as he'd like to sit in the back row, he really had no choice in the matter… as luck would have it, his assigned seat was smack dab in the middle of the class. He hated it, but Mrs. Heathers had refused to let him switch. As the class continued with their reading of Shel Silverstein's 'Where the Sidewalk Ends', Bobby idly doodled spirals and shapes in his notebook. He didn't need to read it. He already had; he'd read all of Silverstein's works back to front. He knew the words, he knew the deeper meanings, and he could recite his favorites by memory. His teacher would often scold him for 'reading ahead', but how could that possibly be a bad thing? He wasn't fast… everyone else was slow.
Like right now, for example. A boy in the front row was attempting to read aloud, and failing in spectacular fashion. "Th-there is a place where the sid… the sid…" The boy stammered. Bobby cringed; for crying out loud, it was the title of the book. "The… sidee-waulk…"
"Sidewalk." Bobby hissed, far louder than he had meant to. He didn't even need to look up: immediately, he could feel the entire class staring at him. Mrs. Heathers cleared her throat.
"Well then," She said in a stern tone. "If you're so eager to correct your fellow students, Mr. Loud, perhaps you'd like to read instead?" Bobby's head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror.
"N-n-no, I-"
"Robert. Read." Mrs. Heathers ordered. Beads of sweat began to form on the boy's forehead, and he took a quick glance around; everyone in front of him had turned in their seats, staring at him with amused smirks. Bobby swallowed and slowly raised the book before his face. He heard a light scoff from his teacher as he had to turn to the correct page.
"U-u-um…" Bobby stuttered, the book trembling in his hands. "Th-th-there i-is a place…" He took a deep breath, trying his best to steady his nerves. "A-a-a place wh-where the side… the side…" Bobby tried his best to push on, but his voice petered off into a pathetic wheeze. He couldn't do it. Mrs. Heathers knew he couldn't do it, but she'd made him try anyway. He could already hear the rest of the students snickering. "Th-the sidewalk… e-e-e…"
"…Daniel." Mrs. Heathers said with a sigh. "Please read." Bobby hung his head, his face flush with embarrassment as his peers did their best to stifle laughs at his expense. He let out a low groan, flipping his hood over his head as Daniel, once again, struggled to pronounce 'sidewalk'.

Loan did her best to scrape the crumbs on her bedsheets into one of the empty chip bags. Granted, this resulted in about half of them ending up on the floor, but that was probably better than on the bed, right?
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Loan balled up the bag and chucked it into her makeshift trash can, only for it to bounce off the overstuffed box and land on the floor. Loan frowned. She really should just throw everything into one of the larger boxes.
…She should, but instead she simply laid back down. Surely, she'd earned herself a break. She'd cleared off her bed, after all… that was something, right?
Jesus fucking CHRIST, Loan.
Loan picked up her 5DS and got back to Monster Hunter. She'd been playing this game for over a year, and still never got tired of it. She'd just do a few hunts, and then get back to work. Just one or two.
…Or three.
Might as well do a fourth, right?
Alright… just onemore. She needed the claw, after all… surely it would drop next time.
Darn it. Okay, one more.
There it is. Now- wait. She forgot she needed the tail too. With a sigh, she started the hunt again.
Bad teammate. Hunt failed. Loan grumbled under her breath and started again.
Failed again. Alright, enough co-op. She'd go solo… her Palicoes were tough, they could handle it.
…Hunt failed.
Loan gripped the handheld tightly, taking a deep breath to stop from screaming in frustration. She was getting too worked up. She needed a break from this, something to help her calm down a bit.
…Pokémon should do the trick.

Bobby slowed to a stop and hopped off his bike, walking it the rest of the way up the driveway. He wasn't really one for exercise, but he did enjoy riding his bike… not that he really did outside of traveling to and from school. The wind through his hair was relaxing after a rough day at school, and for Bobby, every day of school was rough.
Bobby typed in the code on the garage keypad, and the door began to rise up, only to get stuck partway. Bobby narrowed his eyes and beat his fist against it, but it did nothing. "Oh, come on…" He grumbled. With a sigh of resignation, he leant his bike against the wall and crouched under the open door.
He gripped the inner frame and tried to lift the door the rest of the way, but it wouldn't budge. He took a deep breath and tried again, straining with all his might against the door, but again, it was fruitless. "Alright… c'mon, Bobby. You're not a complete wimp…" He told himself. "Here we go." He tried one more time.
…And then the door started to move.
"Oh, no." Bobby gasped, kicking his legs as he found himself being lifted off the ground. "Nonononono-" The boy lost his grip and fell onto his back, letting out a wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. He coughed and gasped for air, only to cough harder as he breathed in the dust he had kicked up. Once the coughing had subsided, he simply stared up at the ceiling in silence. Of course this would happen. He was Bobby Loud, after all, and his fate was the same as all men in the family: fail your way through life and hope things turn out okay in the end. It may have worked out for his father, but Bobby couldn't help but doubt that he would have such a bright future. If nothing else, he at least took solace in the fact that the day couldn't possibly get worse.
No sooner had that thought left his mind than he heard his bicycle topple over.
Bobby squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath through his nose before exhaling. This was fine. Everything was fine. This was just life as usual for the boy. With a small grunt, he got to his feet. Sure enough, the bell had snapped right off the bike's handlebar. Bobby grumbled under his breath and picked it up, looking it over. He could fix it. Well… probably. Hopefully. At least it was just-
No, Bobby told himself. Not again. Just go inside. Bobby picked up his bike and wheeled it into the garage, flipping down the kickstand and setting it off to the side. It then occurred to him that he should have just used the kickstand in the first place. With a small groan, Bobby headed for the door leading into the laundry room, pressing the button to lower the garage door.
It got stuck midway.
Bobby glanced over his shoulder at the garage door with a flat expression. Then, he turned away and stepped into the house.

Loan sighed and set down her 5DS. She'd put it off long enough; the fifteen caffeine-free Diet Cokes she'd drank throughout the day were starting to weigh heavily on her bladder. She sat up and gave a little stretch before getting out of bed. That was enough of a break anyway. Loan glanced over at the clock.
It was nearly five PM.
Loan's face fell. Had she really gotten that distracted? She had barely done anything today.
Of course you haven't. When's the last time you accomplished anything? You're worthless.
Loan frowned deeply and shook her head. That was it… no more games for today. She needed to get unpacked. She needed to at least try to do something for once.
But for now, the pressure in her abdomen reminded her of why she had gotten up in the first place. Loan shuffled out of her bedroom just as Bobby climbed the last few steps up to the second floor. Her face lit up immediately upon seeing him.
"Oh, Bobby!" Loan greeted her little brother warmly. "W-welcome back." Bobby took a quick glance up at her before staring back down at the floor.
"…Hello." The boy mumbled. Loan's cheerful expression faltered as she took notice of his demeanor. At the surface, he seemed barely different than usual: slouched posture, hands hidden in pockets, head hung low. But there was something a bit different this time. His voice sounded slightly unsteady, and Loan could swear that she saw a hint of wetness in the corner of his eye.
"Bobby… is something wrong…?" Loan asked in a gentle voice. Her brother frowned, his brow furrowing slightly.
"…Bad day." Bobby admitted.
"Oh…" Loan bit her lip and fidgeted slightly. He was clearly upset, and quite frankly she wasn't sure what to do… she still hadn't been able to connect with the boy, and save for their limited interaction on Saturday she'd barely spoken to him at all. She leant forward and tilted her head a bit, trying to meet his gaze, but Bobby simply withdrew further. "Do you, um… do you want to talk about it…? I-I may not be much help, but-"
"No." Bobby muttered. "…Don't worry about it. It's fine." Without another word, Bobby hurried past his sister and headed for his room.
"W-well, if you change your mind… I'd be happy to hear you out, at least. Sometimes… sometimes that helps." She said just as he grasped the doorknob. Bobby flinched slightly.
"…I told you. Don't worry about it." Bobby repeated. "I'll be fine." He turned to look at her, his blue eyes meeting hers for just a moment. She really did look concerned… he knew she meant well, but he didn't want to talk. Not to her, nor to anyone else.
Still… he did appreciate it.
"Thanks, though..." He said as he opened his door. "…For asking, I mean." Then, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Thankfully, homework was easy tonight: a writing prompt to explain what you thought was at the end of the sidewalk, and draw a picture illustrating it. It would be a simple task for him, one he could easily finish before dinner. He fished out his handout sheet and tossed his backpack aside, then sat down at his desk.
Name: Robert Loud
What I think is at the end of the sidewalk is…
Nothing, because there is no sidewalk. To follow the 'sidewalk' is to leave behind the sadness of adulthood and walk the path of a child instead. The children know 'the place where the sidewalk ends', which is a place of wonder and joy, which is not a place but a state of mind. There is no 'path' to actually follow, only a way to think, and so there is no sidewalk.
There. Done. There was no need to draw a picture of nothing, after all.

The rest of the night had been normal enough, save for Ronnie's absence at dinner; her job left her working late most nights, unsurprising given she worked at a popular upper-class restaurant downtown. The only reason she got any time to herself at all was because she had turned down the chance to be promoted to sous chef. As good as an opportunity as it had been, she had to put her family first.
It was nearly midnight by the time she arrived home, and she'd been surprised to see that her husband was already getting ready for bed. Seeing as how he'd have to get up early for the long drive to the city, he couldn't afford to work too late. Ronnie wasn't complaining; he'd been sleeping in his studio for the past two nights, and quite frankly she missed having him by her side.
"Are you sure you'll be able to meet your deadline, though?" She asked as she slipped into her nightgown.
"…I'll make it work." Lincoln promised. He was already lying in bed, his arms folded behind his head. He couldn't help but ogle his wife as the sheer fabric of the gown hugged her frame, in particular the way it accentuated her perfect rear end; if he didn't know better, he'd say that she was teasing him on purpose. He had no idea how he was supposed to last a whole week without sex.
"Naughty boy." Ronnie chided her husband, and he noticed she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't think I don't see you staring..." Lincoln coughed and quickly turned away, his cheeks reddening slightly.
"Can you blame me?" He muttered sheepishly. "It's like dangling a piece of meat in front of a starving lion." Ronnie chuckled under her breath. That had been the idea, of course… the truth of the matter was, as much as she would like to hold true to her word, she really needed to blow off some steam after such a long day.
Plus… she'd been itching to jump her husband's bones too.
"I'll tell you what…" She began in a husky tone, approaching the bed with a noticeable sway of her hips. "How about we forget about that punishment of yours for tonight?"
"Couldn't stay away, could you?" Lincoln said with a chuckle. Ronnie pouted.
"You wanna test me?"
"…I'll be good." Lincoln said quietly. Ronnie smirked and climbed onto the bed, crawling on her hands and knees to position herself above her husband. She leant down and gave him a passionate kiss.
"Maybe I want you to be bad." She whispered, sending a shiver down Lincoln's spine. She straddled her husband's waist, already feeling the fruits of her labor rubbing against her. "Someone's certainly eager…" Ronnie cooed.
"With a babe like you, it's hard not to be." Lincoln replied with a cocky smirk. "I really am a lucky g-aaaaah…" He gasped as Ronnie began to grind herself against him.
"You bet your ass you are, Lame-O." Ronnie only used Lincoln's old nickname when she was really set on maintaining control… not that Lincoln minded. Being a fairly passive fellow, he was more than happy to let his wife take charge in bed. He put his hands on Ronnie's hips and began to thrust himself up to meet her; she shuddered in pleasure and increased her pace. Even through the fabric of his pajama bottoms it felt incredibly good. "That's right…" She hissed. "You like that, don't you…?"
"You love it, don't you…"
"I…"
"You LOVE it…!"
"W-wait, no…"
"Fuck me, little brother… FUCK me."
Lincoln's eyes shot wide open. He let out a strangled cry and bolted upright, shoving Ronnie off of him. She yelped as she fell back against the mattress, then sat up and glared at her husband.
"Lincoln, what the hell-" Ronnie's anger faded in an instant as she saw the fear in Lincoln's eyes; he had backed up against the headboard and his chest was heaving with deep breaths. For a few moments, neither said anything. Nothing needed to be said… it was immediately clear to Ronnie what had happened. "…Lincoln…" She muttered under her breath. The shaken man's breaths began to steady, and his fear slowly gave way to shame.
"R-Ronnie." Lincoln gasped. "I-I'm sorry, I-"
"No. I-it's okay… you don't have anything to apologize for." Ronnie assured him, her voice low and gentle. She slowly scooted over to her husband and embraced him. He tensed up slightly before relaxing into her arms. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't think… oh God, Lincoln, I should have known."
Lincoln frowned. How could she have known? He was a grown man. He shouldn't be feeling this way… he shouldn't be trembling in his wife's arms like a frightened child. He was pathetic.
"It's okay, honey." Ronnie cooed, gently stroking his hair. "It's all going to be okay."
"…Yeah." Lincoln said, half-heartedly returning the hug. "Yeah, I know."

The ride to the city was mostly silent, save for the familiar tones of SMOOCH from the radio; Lincoln had offered to let his daughter pick the music again, but she had insisted he choose this time.
Loan frowned as she looked over at her father. He seemed morose and had deep creases under his eyes. It was clear he hadn't slept well. Lincoln took his thermos from the cup holder and took several big gulps of coffee. Loan estimated there must be at least three mugs worth in there, maybe even four. She was pretty sure that much caffeine wasn't good for him, but quite frankly he looked like he needed it.
"Um, dad… are you okay…?" Loan asked. Lincoln glanced at his daughter and forced a small smile.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just, uh… couldn't get much sleep last night." He said, before turning his attention back to the road. Loan frowned and gave a small nod. She wasn't really convinced... he didn't just look tired, he looked troubled. "By the way," Lincoln began. "When we get there… remember I'm just your uncle, okay?"
"R-right… of course." Loan muttered. She'd just started getting used to calling him dad, too… but it made sense that they'd need to keep that a secret. She let out a soft sigh, looking out the window. "…I wish it didn't have to be that way, though." Lincoln frowned and nodded.
"Me too…" Lincoln agreed. "I, um… I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I-it's better this way, I guess. I'll just… have to be really careful not to slip up." Loan said with a nervous laugh. Lincoln let out a small chuckle.
"We both do," He said to his daughter.

As the bell rang, mercifully signaling it was time for recess, Bobby got to his feet. Granted, it wasn't like he actually did much during recess, but he was grateful for any chance to get out of the classroom for a bit. Besides, he could just find a quiet spot to sit and read for a bit. As usual, Bobby hung back for a moment so the other students could file out first.
"Robert, can you come see me for a moment?" Mrs. Heathers asked just as he was about to leave; he forced himself not to groan as he approached his teacher's desk.
"Y-yes, Mrs. Heathers…?" He asked quietly. The woman sighed and handed him his writing prompt from the previous night.
"Robert… do you care to explain this?" She asked. Bobby glanced at the sheet, finding to his confusion that it was marked with a big red D. His brow furrowed as he scanned it in detail, looking for anything he may have missed.
"I… I don't understand." He muttered. "I-I did what you asked."
"No, you did not." Mrs. Heathers said with a shake of her head. "Well-written as it is, I asked you to explain what you thought was at the end of the sidewalk. 'Nothing' is not an answer." Bobby stared at her as though she had grown an extra head; he looked from her, down to the paper, then back at her again.
"B-but there is nothing. There's no sidewalk. Th-there can't be anything there…"
"The point of this assignment, Robert, is to exercise your creativity… not to interpret things as you see fit. Thus far you are the only student that has failed to understand that." Mrs. Heathers opened a folder on her desk and took out a blank worksheet, handing it to the boy. "I'm willing to give you one more chance. Do try to follow instructions this time."
"B-b-but there's nothing to be creative about! It's been written! It means what it means!" Bobby stammered. "There's no sidewalk, and there's no end! There's nothing there!"
"Then think of something that might be." His teacher replied coolly. Bobby grit his teeth in frustration.
"There. Is. No. Sidewalk." Bobby hissed.
"Robert." Mrs. Heathers said in a stern tone. "Either you do the assignment as intended or you fail. Do you understand?"
"Do you understand what a metaphor is?!" Bobby shot back before he could stop himself. He regretted it immediately; Mrs. Heathers pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. "I-I'm, sorry…"
"I'm sure." His teacher replied curtly. "For that little outburst you will be spending recess and lunch at your desk. You will complete that assignment properly, and on the back you will write no less than five paragraphs on why you should not talk back to your teacher. If you fail to complete this within the allotted time, I will be sending you to Principal Jacobs' office. Do you understand that, Mr. Loud?" Bobby swallowed and hung his head, giving a small nod.
"…Yes, Mrs. Heathers."

Loan bounced her leg anxiously as she sat in the waiting room. Even with her father at her side, she didn't like being here, or in any sort of waiting room for that matter. Knowing fully well that the gentle, muted colors of the office were intentionally chosen to put clients at ease simply made her uncomfortable… as though she were some sort of mental case.
You are.
"Loan? You okay?" Lincoln asked, taking note of his daughter's nervous behavior. She gave a small nod.
"Y-yeah… I'm fine." Loan said, forcing a reassuring smile. "Um… thank you again for doing this. I-I know you're really busy…"
"Hey… you've got nothing to thank me for. I'm here for you." Lincoln replied with a smirk. He placed his hand over Loan's and gave it a gentle squeeze; she couldn't help but smile herself.
A nearby door opened and a frazzled middle-aged woman stepped out. Behind her was a tall Indian woman with black hair tied back into a neat bun. She carried a mature, elegant air about her, and wore business casual attire that was undoubtedly also chosen to put her clients at ease.
"Alright, Victoria… Bryce will set you up with your next appointment." She said to the woman. "You hang in there, and feel free to call me if anything changes."
"T-thank you, doctor." The troubled woman stammered before walking over to the counter. Dr. Patel adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses before turning towards the two with a smile.
"Hello, Loan. It's good to see you again." She said. Loan got to her feet, followed by her father.
"Hi, Dr. Patel." Loan greeted her, noticeably more chipper than she had been before. "U-um, this is my… uncle."
"Lincoln Loud. Nice to meet you." Lincoln said, shaking hands with the woman.
"The pleasure's all mine. My apologies for the wait… you can come on back now."
Dr. Patel led them down a short hallway to her office. It was nicely decorated and the walls were adorned with her various credentials, as well as several awards for her work. Clearly, she had a good reputation among her peers. Unsurprising, given Lori's wealth… she would surely settle for nothing but the best for her daughter.
"Please, sit." She said, gesturing towards two chairs sitting before her desk. She walked around and sat in her own chair. "Firstly, Loan I must ask… do I have your consent to speak freely with your uncle regarding your treatment?"
"U-um…" Loan stammered. She glanced over at her father, who offered her a supportive smile.
"You don't need to say yes if you don't want to, Loan." He assured her. "Whatever you're comfortable with."
Loan returned his smile and nodded. "It's okay. I… I don't want to keep any secrets from him." She said to her psychiatrist. Dr. Patel smirked and opened a drawer.
"Very good. Please fill this out, then." She set a form down in front of them, and they took a few minutes to complete it before handing it back to her. "Thank you," She said as she took the form and set it aside for the time being. "Now, then… I must say I'm quite surprised, Loan. Your mother tells me that your new arrangement was your own decision… quite frankly, I'm pleased that you took such initiative of your own volition."
"O-oh, um… thank you." Loan muttered. "I… didn't want to go to Japan, so…"
"Understandable" Dr. Patel said with a nod. "I had warned Lori that forcing such a change upon you may be counterproductive to your mental health. Although… I suppose this is a big change for you as well."
"It… it is." Loan admitted. "But da-" She caught herself as her father gave her a discrete nudge with his foot. "Aaaah… uncle Lincoln is… he's really good to me…" Loan stammered, forcing a nervous smile. "I-I like it there." Dr. Patel raised her eyebrows, observing Loan for a moment before speaking again.
"…I see. That's good to hear." She said, her tone remaining impassive. She turned her focus to Lincoln. "Now, Mr. Loud… or do you prefer I use your first name?"
"Yeah, Lincoln's… Lincoln's fine."
"Well, Lincoln, it's admirable you would take on such a responsibility." Dr. Patel began. "If I may ask… what prompted you to do so?"
"Well… she's family. That's, uh… really important to me." Lincoln chuckled. "Besides, she's, well… she's great." Loan blushed a light pink and turned away, covering her face with her hands.
"C-come on, dad…" Loan muttered under her breath, only to clasp her hand over her mouth as she realized what she said.
Good fucking going, Loan. It's been, what, five minutes?
Lincoln clenched his teeth and clutched the armrest tightly as he did his best to maintain composure; perhaps she hadn't heard?
"…Dad?" Dr. Patel inquired. Dammit.
"N-n-no, I, uh… I didn't…"
"We-we're so close that she calls me dad sometimes!" Lincoln cut in. "Kind of, like… a pet name, you know…?" He gave an awkward laugh and an unconvincing grin.
"Y-yeah! That! A-and he thinks of me like his dau-"
"Loaaaaan." Lincoln hissed through his teeth.
"-Aaaarling niece. L-like… the best." Loan said with a nearly identical smile to her father's.
Amazing. Bravo. You're really nailing this one.
Dr. Patel stared at the two with an inquisitive gaze in silence; she seemed to be studying them. Then, a warm smile spread across the doctor's face. "Well, it seems like you two get along wonderfully. I'm glad you've finally been able to forge such a strong bond with someone besides your mother… and I can see you're happy with your current arrangement." Loan had to suppress a sigh of relief.
"Y-yes, I am." Loan said. "He's, uh… he's a very good man."
"It would seem so." Dr. Patel smirked at Lincoln, who couldn't help but chuckle sheepishly at the compliment. "Now, then… I'd like to speak with your uncle alone, if that's alright with you."
Loan's face fell. "O-oh… um…" She glanced nervously at the door.
"If you prefer, you may wait in the hallway instead." Dr. Patel offered. This made the nervous girl perk up a bit.
"Th-thank you…" She said, getting to her feet. "I guess I'll see you in a bit, uncle Lincoln…" In the back of her mind, Loan realized that she had meant to say 'dad' again; for the first time, she was happy she had slipped up.
"Yeah." Lincoln said with a gentle grin. Loan left, and Dr. Patel waited a few more moments before speaking again.
"So, Lincoln… if I may ask, what is your home life like? As far as family, that is."
"Well… I'm married," Lincoln explained, "And we have a son, Bobby. He's seven, but he's a smart lil' guy."
"I see. How would you say they feel about all this? I imagine this is a big change for them." She asked.
"Well… Ronnie wasn't too keen on it at first. We, uh… we had a bad fight." Lincoln sighed. "But she came around. I think she's still a bit unsure about it, but they get along pretty well, I think. As for Bobby, he's… shy. Very shy," He emphasized. "He's kind of been keeping to himself so far."
"I see…" Dr. Patel muttered. "
"Er… I know they'll get used to her, though. She's… a really good girl." Lincoln assured her, and she gave a small nod.
"She is." Dr. Patel agreed. "Though I must ask… why you? The last I had heard, you and your sister were estranged." Lincoln's breath hitched in his throat, and his brow furrowed slightly; it hadn't occurred to him that, over the years, Loan had no doubt been asked about her family at some point.
"W-well…" He stammered. "We… earlier this year, we reconnected…"
"Hm… is that so." She said, folding her fingers on her desk. "Forgive me for being so bold, but… is she really nothing more than a niece to you? Lincoln swallowed the lump in his throat.
"What… what do you mean by that, Doctor…?"
Dr. Patel pursed her lips, thinking over how to approach the matter, before deciding that that being direct was the best option. "…Lincoln, if I may be blunt for a moment… I don't think Loan is your niece. She's your daughter, isn't she?" Lincoln's blood ran cold. He shook his head, trying and unfortunately failing to maintain his composure.
"N-no… don't be ridiculous." He lied. "She's just-"
"Mr. Loud," The doctor cut in, "There is more to psychiatry than merely talking to a client. Often, one's words do not tell the whole story, so I have become highly observant of people's demeanor… though I imagine that anyone would be able to tell something's amiss."
"Th-that's not…" Lincoln trailed off, hanging his head slightly. Dr. Patel frowned.
"…You do not need to say anything if you don't wish to." She said in a gentle tone. "But I assure you… anything you tell me does not leave this room." Lincoln's face scrunched up in conflict. As much as he wanted to keep up the charade, he knew she had him.
"…Yeah." He said quietly. "Yeah… she is." The doctor simply nodded sagely. "I, uh… I didn't know. Not until Friday night."
"…I see…" Dr. Patel said. "And, given the unusually small age gap between you and your daughter, would it be fair to assume that the circumstances of her conception were… less than consensual?"
"Oh, God…" Lincoln groaned, burying his face in the palm of his hand.
"Again, you don't need to-"
"No… no, it's fine." Lincoln sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees; for a few moments he said nothing as he gathered his thoughts. "The night before Lori left for college, she came home drunk and… well, you get the idea." Dr. Patel frowned, giving a small nod. "She doesn't even remember actually doing it. Hell, I didn't remember it until she told me."
"And do you remember it now…?" Dr. Patel asked. Lincoln's brow furrowed deeply.
"…Every last second."
"It's not uncommon for those who have experienced a traumatic event to block out those memories. Sometimes, our subconscious simply chooses to deny the truth rather than cope with it." Dr. Patel said. "I'm sorry. It must have come as a shock to you."
"Yeah, that's an understatement." Lincoln said with a self-depreciating chuckle. "Dunno which was the bigger surprise… that my sister raped me or that Loan was my daughter. One hell of an evening, though." Dr. Patel couldn't help but give a small smirk herself; at least he still had a sense of humor.
"And, knowing Loan's parentage, you accepted her into your home nonetheless." She stated. "Did you feel… obligated to?"
"…No. It doesn't matter if Lori's my sister. Loan's my daughter. I couldn't let her go, not when… not when she'd just entered my life." Lincoln said. "It may sound weird, but even though I barely know her… I love her. She's… she's my kid. You know…?"
"Of course. It's not unusual at all… you loved your son from the moment he was born, I assume?"
"More than I'd ever loved anything before." Lincoln admitted. "I guess… it's kind of like that with Loan, huh?"
"There are far too many fathers that would rather have nothing to do with their child. You are clearly not one of them. You said family is important to you, correct?"
"Yeah. I'm from a really big family, so… well, I'm sure you know already."
"Indeed." The doctor said with a smirk. "Your sister speaks of them often. And yet… whenever it came to you, she would always try to dance around the subject. Now I see why." Lincoln frowned. "How did Loan take the revelation?"
"Not… great. She had a panic attack. A bad one." Lincoln said. "Now she barely talks to her mom. I think what Lori did hit too close to home for her, you know…?"
"…Understandable." Dr. Patel began jotting something down in her notebook. "And how do you feel, Lincoln?"
"I, um… I don't hate Lori. I love her, even now. I know I shouldn't but I just… I can't hate her. Even with what she did, I don't think she's a bad person." Lincoln muttered. "Besides, she was… she was drunk. She… didn't know what she was doing…" He looked away and chewed his lip nervously.
"Do you… blame yourself for what happened?" Dr. Patel gently asked. Lincoln scrunched up his brow.
"There was… a point where I could have stopped it. Where I could have ran. But… I didn't. I just… let it happen…" Lincoln said quietly. "Hell, I could have screamed at any point, but I didn't. And she just… I… Goddamn it..." Lincoln hung his head and rubbed at his eyes.
"Here… you don't have to continue if you don't want to." Dr. Patel assured him as she passed over a box of tissues. He gratefully accepted one and wiped his eyes.
"I just wanted it to stop, but then I-I… started to like it." He admitted. "I've been having these… these nightmares where I want it. A-and I feel like I… maybe I did something to make it happen, you know? Like, maybe I was just…"
"Asking for it?" Dr. Patel finished for him. He gave a small nod.
"…Yeah."
Dr. Patel took a deep breath through her nose and sat up straight. "Lincoln, let me ask you something. When, this happened, did you feel scared?"
"Well… yes." Lincoln muttered.
"Even when you started to 'like' it… were you still scared?" She asked. Lincoln opened his mouth, then closed it again; he paused a moment to think about it.
"I… I guess I was." He said.
"I see." Dr. Patel wrote down something in her notebook again. "If I may be so bold, are you and your wife sexually active?"
"Ah…" Lincoln coughed and averted his eyes, his cheeks turning a light pink. "W-well… of course we are."
"And do you enjoy sex?"
"D-do you really need to ask…?" Lincoln muttered. Dr. Patel gave a brief smirk.
"Sex is an inherently pleasurable act. For you to feel pleasure from it is nothing you should blame yourself for… especially at the cusp of puberty." The doctor replied. "It is not uncommon for victims of sexual assault to blame themselves for what happened, especially when the aggressor is someone close to them. But it is not your fault, Lincoln. You wanted her to stop, yes?"
"Well, yeah…"
"You told her to stop?"
"…I did." Lincoln said.
"Then there you go. There is nobody to blame here but Lori herself. Alcohol or not, she made her choices. She forced herself upon you… someone who implicitly trusted her. It may have felt good. You may even have enjoyed it, at some level. But that does not mean you wanted it." Dr. Patel explained. "There is a big difference between arousal and consent." Lincoln had to admit… she was right. He hadn't wanted it. There was no point where he had been okay with what was happening.
And more than anything… he'd only been a child.
"That's, um…" Lincoln let out a short, relieved laugh. "You're… you're right. I guess I've been kind of stupid, huh…"
"Not at all," The doctor explained. "Again, this was a highly traumatic event for you… it's of little surprise that your mind would struggle to make sense of it all. As I'm sure your daughter would attest to, these scars do not fade so easily." Lincoln exhaled and gave a small nod.
"I… I guess."
"I'll tell you what, Lincoln." Dr. Patel withdrew a card from her breast pocket and offered it to him. "The choice is yours, but I would be more than happy to provide counseling should you feel you need it. I'll even waive the fee for your first session." Lincoln cocked an eyebrow.
"You mean this wasn't a session…?" He asked as he took the card.
"Merely an interview." Dr. Patel said with a chuckle. "Though I suppose there is little difference between the two."
Lincoln smirked and glanced down at the card. "…Thanks. I'll keep it in mind," He said.
"Good. Well, Mr. Loud, it was a pleasure to meet you." The doctor said, getting to her feet; Lincoln did the same. "I have no doubt that Loan is in good hands."
"It was nice to meet you too, doctor." Lincoln said sincerely as he shook the woman's hand. "And… thank you. Really. You, ah… you've set me at ease a bit."
"Glad to hear it." Dr. Patel said with a warm smile.
Lincoln left the office to find Loan standing anxiously a few feet away. "O-oh… um, you're finished…?" She asked.
"That we are. Your uncle is a good man, Loan." Dr. Patel said. "I'm sure you'll be very happy with him." Loan's face lit up and she eagerly nodded.
"Y-yes… I think so too."

Soon enough, their business was finished… once Loan had gotten her prescriptions from the front counter, the two were on their way.
"Dr. Patel's really nice." Lincoln said as they walked back to his car. "She seems to care about you a lot."
"Yeah… she's great. She, uh… she's helped me a lot…" Loan trailed off as they approached the car. Then, she stopped, letting out a soft sigh. "U-um… dad…?"
"Yeah…?" Lincoln turned, frowning as he noticed his daughter's nervous expression. "Is… something wrong?" Loan chewed her lip apprehensively, then let out a small whimper.
"I'm… I'm sorry…!" Loan cried. "I-I-I kept slipping up, and I… I messed up!"
"W-whoa, hey…!" Lincoln lightly grasped the girl's shoulder. "It's okay… it's fine. It all worked out okay."
"S-still… I messed up." Loan mumbled. "I need to be more careful… I-I'll try harder next time, I promise…" Lincoln offered her a reassuring smile and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"It's okay, Loan. Honestly… I think it worked out for the best. So if anything, I should thank you." He said. "She, ah… helped me with some stuff…"
"I know. I-I was… I listened a bit…" Loan muttered. "P-please don't be mad…"
"…Oh…" Lincoln frowned slightly.
"I-I'm sorry." Loan hung her head in shame. Quite frankly, Lincoln couldn't be mad at her even if he wanted to.
"It's alright. I'm not mad… honestly, I can't really blame you." Lincoln said with a small chuckle. "Um… how much did you hear…?"
"…A lot." Loan admitted. She looked up into her father's eyes with a sad, sympathetic gaze. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't even realize you were hurting…"
Lincoln sighed. "I… never told you I was," He said. Loan chewed her lip and glanced away briefly before looking back at Lincoln.
"L-listen… it does get easier. I… promise it does. It never goes away… not entirely. But it gets easier." She assured her father, a shaky smile spreading across her face. "I may n-not know much, but… I've… been there before. So… maybe I can help you, you know…?" Lincoln's eyes widened slightly before his face settled into a warm smile. He wrapped his daughter in a hug, and she tensed up briefly before relaxing into Lincoln's arms.
"You're already helping me, Loan." He said quietly. "More than you know. I love you." There they were… the words that had been on the tip of his tongue since he'd learned that this nervous girl was his daughter. "Loan sniffled, burying her face into her father's shirt.
"I… I love you too." She mumbled through his shirt. Loan basked in her father's embrace for a moment; despite her aversion to physical contact, she did love hugs when they came from the right people. In the past, that had only been her mother… but her father's were even better. She couldn't help but feel warm and secure in his arms.
God, you're such a fucking baby.
All too soon, their hug broke. Lincoln pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "Bobby gets home at about five… so we still have an hour or so before we need to head back." He said. "What do you say we grab some lunch? I know a place… shouldn't be too crowded, either." He knew he should go home and get back to work as soon as possible, but…
…Fuck it.
"I'd… I'd like that." Loan said with a smile.

"Yo, Bobby! Didn't see you at lunch!" Charlie greeted the younger boy as he packed his things away in his locker.
"…Got in trouble." Bobby grunted. "Sorry."
"Dang, dude, what'd you do?" Charlie asked. "Finally get in a fight?" Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Homework stuff…" He grumbled, zipping up his backpack and shutting his locker. He locked it, then gave the lock a few hard tugs to ensure it was secure; prior experiences had taught him to be extra careful, lest he find something disgusting in there the following morning.
"Sheesh… you forget to do it or something?"
"…Don't worry about it." Bobby said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah… seeya, man." Charlie waved goodbye as Bobby walked off. As usual, he had hung back a bit to let most of the other students file out. He made his way out of the school and walked to the bike racks.
The ride home only took about eight minutes or so… the short distance was the only reason he was allowed to bike home on his own. Still, he often took his time, sometimes even taking alternate routes just to prolong the ride. But not today. Today, he just wanted to get home and relax.
Soon enough he arrived, hopping off his bike and walking it up the driveway. Thankfully, the garage didn't get stuck this time… until he tried to close it, but he was willing to settle for 50% success. For him, that was pretty good.
He skulked his way inside, through the laundry room and into the living room to find his father coming down the stairs, empty coffee mug in hand. Lincoln's face lit up upon seeing his son.
"Hey, Bobby. Welcome back," He said as he ruffled his son's hair, much to the boy's embarrassment. "How was school?"
"…Same as usual." Bobby muttered. "How's, um… work?" Lincoln gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.
"It's… going. By the way, I was thinking maybe we could just order in tonight… pizza sound good?" Lincoln asked. Bobby smirked slightly; he did love pizza.
"Yeah… that'd be good."
"Great. I'll order a little later." Lincoln said. Bobby nodded and hurried upstairs. He had homework, but he'd worry about that later… he wanted to unwind a bit first.
As his hand rested on his doorknob, he glanced over at Loan's open door. He frowned slightly and let go of the knob; she'd been nothing but friendly towards him so far. He should say hello, at least. He shuffled over to the door and peeked in; she was lying in her bed, scribbling away in her sketchbook. Bobby was a bit curious as to what she was drawing, but figured it was none of his business.
"…Hi, Loan." He said quietly. The young woman let out a small yelp and jumped, hugging the sketchbook tightly against her chest with a red face.
"Y-yes?! Is something-" Loan trailed off as she laid eyes on her little brother. She relaxed slightly, a bright smile crossing her face. "O-oh… hello, Bobby. Um… did you need something…?"
"…No." Bobby mumbled. "Just… just saying hi." He mumbled before skulking towards his room. Loan blinked; that was a first. Up to now, he'd only spoken to her when she spoke to him first. A happy smile spread off her face again.
He's just being nice.
Oh, shut up, Loan thought. Now that she had looked up from her sketchbook, she laid eyes once again on her room. She'd let herself get distracted again. She was still far from finished unpacking, though she'd made some progress since the previous afternoon. She glanced down at her half-finished drawing and frowned slightly. It could wait. With a small sigh, she shut the book and got out of bed.
Unpacking her figures would take a long time, so she'd save that one for later. Instead, she grabbed one of the boxes of clothes. Lincoln had taken the time to neatly fold them, the first time anyone had bothered to do so in years; usually, she just left everything in a big pile, fishing out clothes as she needed them. She was grateful that her father would go through so much effort for her, and vowed to do her best to keep things neat.
I give you a week before this place looks like a bomb went off.
Loan rolled her eyes and ignored her intrusive thoughts as she began laying her clothes in the dresser drawers. She tried her best to keep things organized, with her shirts, sweaters, and pants all set in their own drawers, and her undergarments and socks sharing one drawer. As she looked over her work, she realized something was missing: her blue and brown sweater. Her favorite sweater. She nearly panicked for a moment before remembering that she had left her clothes from the first night draped over the mirror. She groaned, burying her face in her palm. She really was a mess.
Still… she had no hamper of her own yet. She'd have to use Bobby's again. She took the clothes and headed to Bobby's room to find that the door had been left slightly ajar. She peeked inside, seeing her brother seated cross-legged on the floor in front of his TV, game controller in hand. She opened the door a bit more and stepped inside, leaning against the door frame; she usually wouldn't come in without knocking like this, but she couldn't help but be a bit curious.
The boy was playing Mario Kart… badly. Despite only being on 100cc, he was all the way in 9th place. In the Mushroom Cup, no less. He was making wide turns, consistently hitting barriers or even falling of the stage. He grumbled under his breath as he fell behind into 10th place. Quite frankly, it was a rather sad display.
"Y-you need to drift."
Bobby jumped, quickly pausing the game and turning towards the sudden intrusion. His brow furrowed as he laid eyes on his sister. "…What…?"
"You need to drift," Loan repeated as she stepped inside, tossing her clothes into the hamper. "Th-that's why you're not making the turns… you need to drift. Y'know… like Initial D. 'D-déjà vu, I've just been in this place before'…" She briefly 'sang', or rather, awkwardly talk-sang. Bobby made a baffled expression, clearly not getting the reference.
"I, um…" Bobby stammered, glancing back at the TV. "…I don't know how to do that."
"I-I could… show you, if you'd like." She offered in a quiet voice. Bobby looked towards her again with a slightly apprehensive look on his face, but she simply smiled at him sweetly.
"U-um… okay." He mumbled. Loan grinned and sat down on the floor beside him. He handed her the controller.
"Thank you. Now…" Loan un-paused the game and picked up where he left off. She found it slightly ironic that such a meek boy would be playing as Bowser, but she wasn't complaining… he was one of her go-to characters, alongside Waluigi and Shy Guy. "Watch," She said as she hit the next corner. "You hold down R and you just… slide." Bobby's eyes widened slightly as she effortlessly performed a drift around the corner, overtaking Diddy and reclaiming 9th place. He'd seen the CPU do that before, but he'd figured the game was just cheating. Loan paused the game and handed off the controller to her brother. "Here, you try." She said with a smile.
"R-right… okay. Sounds easy enough…" He mumbled. As he hit the next corner, he did as instructed… only to once again crash into a barrier and fall behind. He shot his sister an annoyed glance.
"O-oh, um… you need to kind of… wiggle the control stick back and forth a bit to get the right angle." She added. Bobby nodded and tried again; sure enough, he made the next turn no problem. "There, see?" Loan beamed at the boy. "And, next time try holding down the drift longer, until you see sparks… that'll give you a boost."
"…Okay." He said. Next turn he tried again… holding the drift for as long as he could manage. To Loan's pleasure, he managed to hold the drift until orange sparks appeared, giving him a boost. A tiny smile crossed the boy's face and he paused the game again. "I-I did it."
"See? It's easy." Loan giggled. "I-if you get used to that, you'll have no problem." Bobby pursed his lips slightly. Loan frowned as he exited the cup. "W-why did you-"
"I already lost two races… I won't be able to win." Bobby muttered. "Hang on…" He got to his feet and walked to the TV, grabbing another controller. "It's… easier if there's two players." He said, offering his sister the controller. "I-if you want to, I mean…" He muttered as he averted his eyes, his cheeks heating up slightly. Loan blinked, and then a wide smile spread across her face.
"…I'd love to."
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