Tragedy.
Lincoln Loud has known none that deserve to be mentioned in the grand tapestry of his destiny, a wonderful family, friends always there to support him, a future so bright that he thinks he is living in a sun.
Then one day, he stumbled upon a darkness that stripped all his certainties bare. He thought he was like Icarus, ready to soar higher than anyone else before being burned by the truth, except that Lincoln continues to live with something that gnaws at his very bones, deep within his flesh.
Fear and uncertainty have become his constant companions in misery as he faces each day with a false smile that never lasts long, until he realizes he is merely a puppet, clumsily balancing on a tightrope. At the slightest misstep, he would be nothing more than a poor victim of fate's whims, a fate that eternally revels in humanity's woe.
Sitting on his bed, hands clasped in his lap, our fourteen-year-old boy stares at the wall in front of him as if he could see the mysteries of the universe unfolding before his blue-gray eyes. He surely hopes to find answers, or at least a key to freeing himself from the fears that assail his heart, filled with such confused emotions that he can't clearly define what he feels.
Lincoln maintains his facade of a calm and collected young man, wanting nothing more than to tell himself that his mind could control his body, even though his feelings remained a wild stallion that he could not tame.
When the clock on his watch showed three o'clock in the afternoon, Lincoln felt his ribcage vibrate from the violent pounding of his heart, which had suddenly felt cramped within its cage. His blood began to flow more rapidly through his veins, giving him a feeling of euphoria that terrified him.
Slowly, he gets out of bed, making the springs creak, turning his body towards the door. Our young man with white hair nervously runs his hands to smooth out imaginary creases in his orange shirt, around his belt buckle which he finds crooked; his shoes are as clean as they were twenty minutes ago after he carefully cleaned them.
Checking himself to buy time was nothing more than a feeble attempt to postpone the inevitable. Lincoln knew this all too well. Yet his vision played amusing tricks on him: instead of a simple white wooden door with a long crack around the lock, Lincoln Loud was faced with an enormous double metal door with, of course, Cerberus heads above it, spewing tongues of flame to clearly indicate that once through that door, the young man would be plunged into a hell of his own making.
Her hesitation was now like a swirling wind around her head, whispering in a velvety voice how easy it would be to run away or even just go to sleep. Yes, ease has the merit of being an attractive option because of the little effort required to achieve it.
Yet, his resolve prevailed, along with his desire to be freed from the chain around his heart, finally opening the door which he gently closed behind him with a dramatic click. Lincoln leaned against it, his hands clasped behind him, then his chin lifted and his eyes fell upon a scene that could easily have been a distorted reflection of reality.
Facing him stood Lucy Loud, mimicking his pose, except that her twelve-year-old sister had folded one of her long legs, covered by long striped socks, against it, revealing the pearly skin of her thighs. His gaze traveled over her figure, which had become the very embodiment of grace. The older she grew, the more she became a woman endowed with a captivating beauty. But it wasn't as magnificent as his sister's eye, exposed to his view like a sapphire facing the sun. All of this he owed to a hair clip holding one side of his little sister's fringe; the clip itself was shaped like a rose shedding its petals, and, of course, vibrant red was its color, for Lucy accepted nothing but the color of blood to adorn her mortal body.
The two stared at each other in a rather strange silence, each facing the other like two strangers who had noticed the other watching. It wasn't hostile, yet above their heads, a tension hung in the air, taut as a violin string. One false note was all it would take for disaster to strike their sensitive souls.
"Lucy."
"Lincoln."
Their names roll off their tongues, as if he's trying to find a new intonation. Strangely, Lucy likes this feeling, while Lincoln finds it truly confusing. This name should be familiar, not a new musical note he has to study to understand a song stuck in his head. He also wishes the long corridor where he grew up with his ten sisters were warm again, and above all, filled with innocent memories. The dramatic tension here makes him feel as if he's in the corridor of an old castle, lit by a silver moon that has decided to reveal the full extent of his little sister's hidden beauty. She offers him a half-smile, surely understanding what's going on in his mind.
"It seems we're alone," she said as casually as she could, as she glanced at the staircase towards which any Loud could come barreling.
"Stating the obvious isn't very elegant, you know," he said with a slight chuckle, closing his eyes for a moment. "That we're alone is no surprise."
"We decided it," she confirmed, looking at him more intensely. "Or should I say that you decided you wanted us to be alone."
Lincoln wished he hadn't had any image of himself walking a tightrope, holding onto absolutely nothing while a hundred bored eyes stared below, waiting for him to fall so they could finally laugh. Yes, the image is as powerful as the feeling that he can't lie, or even try to downplay what he's saying because it might hurt him.
And Lincoln doesn't accept that.
"I should have talked to you before..." he finally shifted from his position, gently dragging his palm along the wall to his left as he crept towards Lucy, who had become more attentive to his movements "...to lose my mind for good."
The years spent going through a hell of sisters, all with a character to match their family name, must have given Lincoln something: a physique adapted to face the dangers that life so generously offers him, a mind free from any boring thoughts to always anticipate what destiny sends him, and finally a heart open to all that he truly feels, giving to those he loves all that he is without holding anything back, like a prisoner confessing his sins.
That's why Lucy is smiling, that's why Lincoln is searching for a reason why his heart keeps racing, that's why at this moment he and she are looking at each other like strangers who have found a treasure together.
"Lucy, I'd like to know what you think…"
She took her time, as always weighing her thoughts like Anubis would a heart he'd just torn out to see if it was pure. She even hummed, running her teeth along her lower lip, something that naturally intrigued Lincoln, who nevertheless froze as she placed her foot on the ground, advancing toward him like a woman born to be queen. One foot after the other, she came toward him like an angel, her smile akin to a statue, a statue that lived only to gaze upon her.
"I think..." her voice leaves traces of an affectionate purr, as she in turn caresses the wall as if it were a silk curtain "...how fun it was to sing with you..." gently, she traces a circle with her index finger while keeping her eye on him "...how euphoric I was at the thought of dancing with you..." her feet sink gently into the carpet as she stands a meter away, her smile showing her pearly canine to her brother's admiring eyes "...and how I almost died...when we kissed."
The great conquerors of this world have charged entire armies, the greatest explorers in history have faced Mother Nature, and the greatest geniuses of past centuries have endured human stupidity.
Lincoln Loud was confronted with his love for Lucy Loud.
"Yet all of this is nothing compared to the love I feel right now," she said with a smile fit for a duchess, as her finger rose and dug into her black dress to caress her beating heart. "And we both know that none of this is fake."
Society, science, and many religions around the world would tell him the opposite, but Lincoln simply chose to say something completely different.
"Aren't you afraid?" he asks, not denying anything because he can't even lie to himself. "If we are ever discovered, then you and I will be like martyrs sent to the lions!"
"Lincoln," she calls, this time with more firmness in her otherwise sweet and enchanting voice, "Tell me what you feel."
Honestly, he wished she had been the more sensible of the two; it would have saved him so much anguish and sleepless nights that the white-haired man almost wanted to blame her. Closing his eyes for a second, the young man let his hand fall and then took hers. Their hands, entwined like lovers', gave him the feeling that he held the whole world in the palm of his hand, their skin seeming to melt into one another as if to become one. In the end, Lincoln saw so many signs that he wondered what to deny. He sincerely wanted his heart not to rebel against his feelings for this girl who now had so much love for him.
"I should be scared or at least feel like I'm taking advantage of you," he confesses, rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand, sending sparks of happiness through his veins. "Yet all I feel is love for you, Lucy... and all I want now is to have you in my life, even if it means suffering."
It was enchanting; Lucy felt almost as if all the stars had aligned for her. The sun could have died in a fantastic explosion and she wouldn't have cared any more than she would have cared about her first pair of knee-high socks. What truly mattered was how her heart leaped and fluttered at the mere sight of this boy who had occupied her thoughts for so many years, how much she wanted to cherish every moment with him, how eager she was for their life to begin, to face all dangers and end up together.
"Hmm…" she was now so close to him that their scents mingled, creating an aroma in which the brunette would like to immerse herself until she lost her mind. "We are undoubtedly going to suffer… the whole world is against us."
A laugh rippled through her lover's Adam's apple, and he now wrapped an arm around his small frame, which seemed to have been created for snuggling against hers. Enjoying this newfound closeness, Lucy reached down his back, gently caressing the Loud as he rubbed his head against hers.
"The whole world can burn," he said, his voice thick with the euphoria of the moment, "but you and I will dance on its ashes."
That's how Lincoln and Lucy gazed at each other with such love that Cupid's arrows shattered. Then, without asking anything of the universe, their lips met in a kiss that broke so many laws on Earth that it made them shiver with joy.
Forbidden, destined to be only brother and sister for this life, they nevertheless met through a kiss. They loved each other like gods, scorning humanity; no matter what the world wanted, Lincoln and Lucy found each other.
So that they would never part again.