A/N: Man, what is it about two-shots that just…y'know, speak to me? I don't get it. Maybe I'll be a two-shot in a second life or something.

But whatever, that's not what matters here. What matters is that I'm trying, the keyword being trying, to write a Luan-centric story that I personally feel satisfied with. Seeing as how she's my least favorite Loud sister, I won't be so sure if I hit all the right notes on this one.

But let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best, shall we?

Luan leaned her head against the window, staring blankly out as all the familiar houses of her neighborhood whizzed by as her father drove closer and closer to home. Even in the middle of the night, she had enough familiarity with the streets to know that they would be home in about three minutes, give or take.

Though the cold glass of the window stung, it was nothing in comparison to the cold feeling of how hollow she felt on the inside. Mere remnants of her joy remained intact but Luan felt that soon enough, they would be swept away in no time by the winds of her ever-growing melancholy.

In a way, it was worse now that it was over than when it was actually happening to her. At least then, everything was happening at once and she didn't register what was going on until her brain finally caught up with her.

But now that it was all over, try as she might, she couldn't escape the snapshots of every painful, humiliating moment of the catastrophe as one by one, the memories of her failure ambushed her from all sides: every mocking laugh, every hurled insult, every hot tear that ran down her face, every soft, pleading whimper as she begged them to stop…they just wouldn't leave her alone no matter how much she willed her mind to put it behind her.

Her first real gig, her first time being booked at a comedy club and getting the chance to show off her material to an unfamiliar audience; it had all been a disaster. A tough crowd was an understatement; they were downright ruthless. She had read about dealing with hecklers before but she was always under the impression that they would only take up about a meager fraction of the audience and that they'd be an inconsequential distraction if she could just look past them.

But everyone, sans her parents, gave her absolute hell back there. There was no getting past that, that sea of jeering and scoffing faces as they put her through the wringer. She couldn't even get through her third joke before the patrons of the club pelted her verbally with scorn, demeaning her efforts and taunting her for even trying to take up comedy.

Though her parents ultimately saved her by getting her off the stage and running out the building as fast as they could, the feeling of humiliation clung to her, sticking to her like a second skin. The only reprieve she had was that mercifully, her siblings weren't there to watch her fail so spectacularly. But even then, it wouldn't matter in a few moments anyway.

She knew them well enough; she knew that as soon as she tried to shuffle off to her room to sulk the night away, someone would catch onto her sullen mood and try to pry the truth out of her. Soon after that, another sibling would join in the interrogation, then another, then another, then another…until she'd be caught in the middle, surrounded by a barrage of probing questions that she felt would only rub salt in the wounds as they'd only prompt her to relive that embarrassment all over again.

Besides, even if she did tell them everything, it wasn't as if they'd truly feel sympathetic. Oh sure, they'd feel sorry for the fact that she was so broken up about her bad night but beyond that? What reason did they have to console her? She knew well enough to know that her jokes with them were more misses than hits and the hits mostly revolved around prop comedy, something that she didn't want to rely on for her gig.

Were they supposed to sit there and pretend that they couldn't understand why she'd been laughed at? Why she had been dragged through the mud so harshly? Why, if they weren't related and they had met each other for the first time at that comedy club, chances are, they would've probably been laughing at her expense just like the rest of them.

The thought of that, the thought of her siblings tormenting her, made Luan's eyes water again, something that hadn't happened since the first five minutes of her awkward, silent drive home. None of her parents knew what to say or do to make he feel better, probably because they would've found their words glib.

More tears fell and Luan did nothing to stifle the sound of her weeping. All she wanted was to find her place in the world with her aspirations, to impress an unbiased crowd with her wit and comedic timing, to get a first taste of a professional comedian's routine and soar beyond her own expectations.

Why? Why was it so wrong for that to happen to her?

"Luan?"

The soft calling of her name, from her mother, broke her out of her stewing and into the present, prompting her to remove her head from against the window and look ahead of her; they were in the driveway of her house now.

"Luan, we're home," Rita said when her daughter didn't respond.

Yes…they were most certainly home. And right now, she'd rather be anywhere but home. The last thing she needed was to be the center of attention. That already went spectacularly wrong tonight.

"Sweetie," Lynn Sr. said as he turned back to look at his daughter, "I know things went really bad for you back there but you can't stay out here in the van all night."

"B-but…but I…" Luan protested weakly, her voice choking up.

She wiped away at her burning eyes with her forearm, missing the concerned looks that her parents gave each other as they watched Luan try to compose herself.

"I-I don't want anyone seeing me like this," Luan continued. "I'm just so…so…"

Her head drooped down, wanting nothing more than for the ground to her swallow her up.

"Ashamed," she whispered hoarsely before she broke down into another sobbing fit, her tears staining the fabric of her skirt as they plopped out one at a time.

"Luan…" Lynn Sr. said, reaching out his hand so he could tilt her chin up to look into her eyes.

Seeing it coming once it came into her line of vision, Luan shrunk back against her seat to get away. Lynn Sr. retreated his hand, seeing her daughter's reaction as a sign that she wanted her space. But still, that didn't mean he would allow her to stay in the van.

He got out of the van and walked around it until he was right at the door closest to Luan and opened it, washing Luan with a sudden breeze of the chilly night air that made her shudder.

"Luan, please just…just come out the van, okay? If you want to be alone, just go to your room and I'll make sure no one bothers you until you feel better."

Though his request was soft, she knew that it wasn't pliable. She'd have to go inside, no matter how heavy her feet felt and how hard her heart beat against her ribs in anxiety.

Nodding, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slunk out the van, closing the door behind her with a soft *thump*. Her mother came out and was at her side to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Though she didn't find the embrace of any help, Luan didn't fight out of it and allowed for her mother to lead her to the front door as her father walked beside her.

Once they made it there, Luan watched her father pull out his keys and unlock the door, unsealing the light from the living room and the sounds of multiple voices speaking out all at once, no doubt her siblings minding their own business. She didn't know for sure who was in there right now since she was trying to tune them out and was staring at the ground the whole time.

Though she was grateful that she wasn't surrounded by all sides with concerned siblings yet, Luan knew that eventually, they'd be of one accord once they got a good look at her and wanted answers to what had happened to her.

She just didn't expect for it happen literally the second she took her first step inside. Apparently, fate decided that she couldn't even be afforded with a few precious seconds of reprieve before the inevitable occurred.

Lucky her.

"Oh my gosh, Luan!" she heard Leni cry out.

The chattering came to a stop.

"Wait, what happened to Luan?" she heard Luna ask from the top of the stairs.

"Luan's hurt?" she heard Lana ask from the kitchen.

Soon, whether they had been upstairs or whether they were in the living room up close to her, as she feared, an army of siblings surrounded her and her parents. Even without her eyes in front of her, she could feel the weight of their stares boring into her.

"Everyone," Rita said sternly, "Luan just needs some space right now. For now, just leave her alone while she goes to her room. Go back to what you were doing before we showed up and don't bother her. Understand?"

At that, they immediately dispersed, making a pathway for the stairs that they had unknowingly blocked off. None of them, however, went very far as the curiosity of Luan's predicament coaxed them to stick around from a respectable distance.

"I'll be fine for the rest of the way," Luan said and slowly made her walk of shame up the stairs, not once looking around her to avoid soaking in the looks of pity she was undoubtedly getting right now.

She didn't want them nor did she feel as if she deserved; like she had decided before, they wouldn't tell her the truth, the truth that she was a horrible comedian and the only reason why they tolerated her comedic shortcomings was because they were related.

Finally, Luan was in front of her bedroom door. It was already open, probably because Luna had been in there and rushed out to see what was going on with her like everyone else did. That was fine with her; she didn't think she had the strength to do anything more than flop onto her bed in a boneless heap and muffle out her imminent sobs in her pillow, never mind opening a door all by herself.

Slowly, she dragged her feet closer and closer towards her bed, thinking all the while about the rough patch she was in.

The last thing she wanted was to talk to any of her siblings about her bad night. The less they knew, the less they'd have an idea of what happened and their ignorance to the situation would mean that she wouldn't be condescendingly comforted with deceit.

At last, she was in front of the bottom bunk of the bed. Without bothering to slip into her comfortable nightwear, Luan flopped forward, landing face first into the bed without a care in the world.

Even in the solace of her room, she couldn't feel that much more comforted than before but at least it was something. But she knew that soon enough, they'd catch onto what happened. It wouldn't take long for them to put two and two together and try to reach out to her in an obligated but shallow approach at uplifting her spirits.

Luan prayed against that, hoping that unlike with her jokes, they wouldn't get it.

A/N: Poor Luan. Getting heckled sucks. This fic was partially inspired from what happened to me when I tried presenting a slideshow of my cancer research project a few years ago in high school. My reception wasn't as vicious as Luan's, nor was I "performing", but I felt that the experiences could be synonymous enough to make a few decent comparisons.

But hey, I remember getting a good grade so at least I had something to celebrate. :P