I Hate Your Love

Stinkin' the Ragdoll

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I Hate Your Love

Chapter 2: Stinkin' the Ragdoll

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Crusty, red eyes blinked and sluggishly opened to see a face staring back at him in the mirror.

"It's not fair," Lincoln grumbled under his breath, rubbing his dull aching temples. "When my thoughts kept me awake; time walks slow. But once I finally fall asleep, the hours run like they're minutes."

They always said when your pajamas are wrinkled when you wake up, that means you had a good night. His face fell to a frown. Then what's this?

His pajamas could've been mistaken as a rag, his hair was flying all over the place- like his entire scalp was mimicking his cowlick, and to top it all off: under the weight of his eyelids, were bags bulging and black that could've been mistaken as bruises. In a nutshell, instead of looking like he came out of a spa, Lincoln was comparable to a man that's been crushed by a 10-wheeler truck.

It was quarter to seven on a Thursday morning, enough time to slack off and take things slow. Birds weren't heard chirping, and the sun was hardly peeking in their windows. At a time like this, it didn't come as a surprise that the Loud house was eerily quiet today.

It's time for breakfast. His stomach was screaming for fulfillment at this point. Walking down to the kitchen, it turns out he isn't the only one awake. "Hey Lincoln," The floor became slippery as he nearly falls over on the kitchen floor. "You look terrible today."

What a good way to start the new day, indeed.

"Geez, thanks." Lincoln clutched at his chest to calm his pounding heart. "Don't you think it's too early to start scaring people, Luce?"

She shrugs. "Never too early for somebody who doesn't sleep."

Okaaay... "At least I'm not the only one with a sleeping issue." Lincoln said, rubbing his heavy eyes. First thing after waking up is the mood to wanna go back to sleep. Great.

"Welcome to my life." Lucy says in her stoic tone, before vanishing in thin air. Leaving Lincoln in the kitchen alone. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Falling down the cloud of terror Lucy swept him into, was the grumbling in his stomach again. First the bowl. Then the cereal box.

Hovering over to the fridge and standing on his toes, Lincoln grabbed the carton of milk at the top shelf before pouring it in the bowl- something some of his sisters would highly disagree with because apparently "Pour the cereal over the milk first... Whoever does it vice versa has opposed all forces of nature.", or "you guys, where's your common sense? We keep arguing whether it's milk or cereal first, but what about the bowl?"

Even through the months, the sound of Luan snort milk at Leni's genuine concern for her siblings' mental health still rang in his mind. People would say his family argued about the dumbest stuff, and relating it to that time that was their reason for a food fight in breakfast, they're right.

Sitting on the chair, no time was wasted before Lincoln dug in to the sweet flavor of Corn Flakes.

And then there's Lana, who was like: "Having cereal with milk is for babies; I eat it raw."

Suddenly, there was a presence with him in the room. A sound from the chair besides him grinding against the dining room carpet. With a snatch of a glance of who it was, oh yay. Life just had to ruin his entire morning all over again, as another sister decides to ruin his moment alone.