I wanted to go back to writing College ducks, and I wanted to write one more (specifically my 20th story) before the New Year. I intend to finish Road Trip pretty quickly into 2020 although I will be going on a vacation for the first week or so. Big, small, and medium plans for Ducktales in the next year! We'll see what happens :D

Enjoy!

The silence in the room was deafening. Sometimes it got like this, with no one talking and a sense of inexplicable tension. Huey and Dewey kept looking at each other and, occasionally, at Louie who was lying on his bed face down. Dewey caught Huey's attention and mimicked rock, paper, scissors. Huey won because Dewey always chose rock and didn't fully understand why he lost most of the time. Sometimes Huey and Louie chose scissors to throw him off that they'd caught on.

"So, Louie, what's wrong?" Dewey asked since he'd lost. Louie lifted his head off of the pillow.

"Why do you guys assume something is wrong if I'm lying on my bed doing nothing? Why don't you assume that everything is completely normal?" Louie asked.

"That's a fair point," Huey said, "is everything completely normal?"

Louie's head dropped back face down on the pillow before he replied, "No…"

Dewey jumped up from his chair, "Ha! I knew it!" Huey sent him a look.

"Sorry I meant what's wrong?"

"Sure you did." Louie rolled himself off his bed, got up to go out, and then turned back to his bed to lie down.

"There's nothing outside for me." Huey and Dewey exchanged concerned glances.

"Did you go to your classes today?" Huey asked. They didn't have any classes together on Friday so Huey had no way of knowing.

"Maybe, I don't know," Louie muttered.

"How can you not know if you went to your classes?" Huey asked, shocked and a little exasperated.

"I think I went to my nine o'clock."

"You think?"

"That was like 8 hours ago, I don't remember."

"That's… There's a lot to unpack about that. You have three classes today and only maybe went to one of them, you don't remember whether or not you actually did, you probably haven't eaten today and you have no plans to go outside. Am I missing a symptom or are you just going to tell me the diagnosis?"

"You tell me the diagnosis," Louie said with a tired laugh.

"I honestly don't know, Dewey and I are worried about you. What's going on, Louie?"

"I just don't feel well."

"Did someone do something to you?" Dewey asked, ready to fight someone.

"I don't know."

"You do know," Dewey argued. Louie sat up on the bed.

"Fine, say there was someone who told me that I was irrelevant, that I was the worst triplet, that I was selfish and lazy and arrogant. What if someone was constantly telling me that one day everyone would figure out I was a useless fake just pretending to be likable? What would you do?" Dewey's fists clenched and Huey looked furious.

"I'd talk with that person," Huey said through gritted teeth.

"I would punch them," Dewey said, "or challenge them to a dance battle at least."

"Right, that's what I thought," Louie nodded, falling back on his bed.

"Who is it? Do we know them?" Dewey asked angrily.

"Oh you know him," Louie said, staring at the ceiling.

"So it's a dude. I'm going to mess him up," Dewey grumbled angrily.

"I sincerely doubt that," Louie said.

"No one makes fun of my brother and gets away with it!" Dewey shouted. Huey had been quiet as if he'd put two and two together.

"Dewey," Huey said quietly. Dewey didn't listen, continuing to rant about how his fist making contact with some idiot's face.

"Dewey!" Huey said a little louder.

"What?"

"Ask him who it is." Huey sat down on the bed next to Louie.

"Good idea. Louie, who's been bullying you?" Louie laughed sadly and rolled over on his side, looking away from his brothers.

"There's only one person who would ever understand me like that."

"Who?" Dewey asked angrily. Huey placed a hand on Louie's back, guessing the answer.

"Me," Louie replied. Dewey fell silent. Then, out of nowhere, he punched Louie in the arm. Louie shot up in surprise, not exactly angry, and Huey gave him a baffled look.

"Dewey!" Huey hissed.

"Said I was gonna punch the guy messing with my brother's head. So I did." Louie let out a small laugh.

"You want to talk about why you feel that way?" Huey asked, putting a hand on Louie's leg.

"Absolutely not." Louie glanced at Dewey who had been suspiciously quiet for a whole minute, who suddenly thrust his phone at his younger brother.

"What? What is this?" Louie picked up the phone, which was dialing.

"I called Uncle Donald. You should talk to him because talking to him usually makes you feel better and he might understand what you're going through and I'm sorry but you've got to talk to someone." Dewey looked a little apologetic for his actions. Louie looked him right in the eyes and canceled the call.

"No, I don't. I don't have to talk to anyone."

"Well, you should. If not to us, or Uncle Donald, then mom, or Webby, or Shiloh or Boyd, or anyone else who cares about you. You can't just hole up on your bed without eating or talking to anyone. Especially after telling us how you feel about yourself. It would be irresponsible of Huey and me to leave you alone with your thoughts. So, your options are clear. You talk to someone or no personal space." Louie gave Dewey a horrified look, then turned to Huey, expecting that his oldest brother couldn't possibly go along with this.

"He's kind of right," Huey whispered, "we can't really leave you alone right now. You're not taking care of yourself and we need to be here for you."

"What do you want from me? That I open up more? I told you everything that was wrong with me, that's as open as I get. If you want to fight or dance battle, I suppose I'll square up, but I don't see how reiterating the points I've already made would help anyone."

"Dance battle," Dewey immediately said.

"No dance battle. I'm going to order a pizza. You're at least going to eat today. If you don't want to talk, then you'll listen. You've gotten pretty good at that, though I will pay you to listen if you feel so inclined." Louie snorted and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Fine."

Huey ordered the pizza on his phone and began his lecture, "You know, you're more real now than you ever have been. So I don't know why you've been telling yourself that you're a fake. People like you, Louie. Your confidence, your charm, your intelligence, the way you see all the angles and work hard to get your family out of trouble, none of that is fake. Even if you might think those qualities about yourself are empty, they're not. You could talk to anyone Dewey just mentioned and they would tell you the same. Maybe right now things aren't okay and you don't have the strength or the willpower to rebuild yourself, but we do. All of us together can take a piece and help put you back together."

"You want the fake version of me. The one who keeps his cracks below the surface. I'm broken, Huey. I have no confidence, no charm. Maybe I'm smart but not smart enough to fix myself."

"No one wants you to be anything you're not, Louie. It's okay if you're broken, we're all broken. What's not okay is to think that you can't be fixed, or that trying to be fixed will take away from who you are. Because it won't, it can't. You're protective because you think that if you get help it will mean that people don't like you as you are. But, if nothing else, your family has always loved you. And we always will." Louie hugged his knees, thinking to himself.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You don't need to be. Thanks for listening, Louie. Now, let us help you. Not because we want some version of you that doesn't exist, but because we want the real version of you to thrive." Huey held out his hand to his brother, and Louie took it, reluctantly. Then Huey pulled Louie into a hug, and Dewey joined in the pile.

"Thank you," Louie whispered, holding his brothers close.