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It was the third time this week Della had yelled at him.
Louie felt broken. Like a broken record player. Just repeating his mistakes over and over again, no matter how hard he tried to do better. To be better. It was useless.
He genuinely hadn’t meant to mess things up. He’d stopped with his schemes, with his snide remarks, with everything Della might have seen in him that she wouldn’t like. And this time he really thought he was doing the right thing.
She’d sent him to his room, and Louie didn’t have to be told twice. He practically ran to the stairs, barely holding in his sobs, until halfway down the hallway when he couldn’t take it anymore and fell to his knees, breathing raggedly through the tears.
His chest hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn’t see through the glaze of tears and at this point he was having trouble taking in air. Was this a panic attack? He couldn’t think properly.
He thought he heard someone saying his name down the hall, but he couldn’t focus on anything. He was in so much pain. He couldn’t function. He couldn’t breathe.
“Louie!”
Someone was crouched down next to him. They placed a hand on his back.
“Louie, what’s wrong? Louie?”
He couldn't reply. Sobs were wracking his body.
“Dewey! Huey!” They yelled, turned away from him. “Guys! Huey!”
“Webby?” somebody called.
Footsteps. Concerned voices.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh God, Louie.” Someone was touching his face. Huey. “Louie. Breathe.”
Deep breath in. He tried. His breath came out in harsh, shallow pants.
“Louie, breathe with me,” the voice repeated. He tried again. Deep breath in. Out. In.
Louie could make out the situation now: Huey was kneeling in front of him, trying to get him to calm down. Webby and Dewey were stood up, watching anxiously. Dewey looked distressed; he was running his hands through his hair repeatedly, staring at his brother.
When Louie had calmed down enough to breathe, he immediately began crying again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m trying. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”
“What happened?” Dewey said. “Louie, what happened?” He was crouched down next to him now, too.
Webby had a panicked look on her face. “Should I go get an adult?”
Huey nodded. “Can you go find Uncle Donald?”
Webby nodded back and immediately rushed off.
Huey and Dewey both wrapped their arms around their younger brother, trying to get him to calm down. “Lou,” Huey said soothingly. “Louie. Louie, hey, it’s okay, shh…”
A moment passed just like that. Dewey continued to cast concerned glances at Huey.
After a minute, Louie could breathe again, and he was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body washing over with embarrassment and shame.
“I’m sorry,” he said under his breath, not daring to open his eyes.
“Louie, is this about what happened earlier? Did Mom say something to you?” Dewey tried to meet his younger brother’s gaze. “What did she say?”
Webby came trotting back. “I couldn't find anyone,” she said worriedly. “Are you okay, Louie?”
Louie tucked his head between his knees and sniffed. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Thank you.”
“Let’s take him to our room so we’re not sitting in the hallway anymore,” Huey suggested, eyes trained on Louie. “I think he needs to lay down.”
All three ducklings helped Louie up and walked with him down the hall to the boys’ room. Louie clutched the end of Dewey’s sleeve tightly, crying lightly as he sat down on his bottom bunk bed.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, fully crying again. He said the phrase over and over. His siblings tried to quiet him as they tucked him under his covers. Huey wiped Louie’s wet cheeks and insisted, “It’s okay, Lou. It’s okay.”
“I feel so small,” he whispered, so faint Huey almost didn’t catch it. “I’m so broken.”
Huey hugged his baby brother tightly, trying not to let his own tears escape. Dewey stood right next to him, wringing his hands and gazing at Louie, visibly upset. Webby was just as concerned - she bounced up and down slightly as she watched them.
“You’re not broken,” Huey whispered back forcefully. “You’re not broken. We love you.”
Louie released another soft sob and tucked his head under Huey’s chin. Webby leaned over and kissed his cheek. And suddenly Louie was asleep, exhausted after the day’s adventure and what had just happened moments before.
-
Huey watched his youngest sibling shift in his sleep and his heart ached.
“I’m gonna stay here with him for a bit,” he whispered to Dewey and Webby. “Could you try to figure out where Uncle Donald is? And maybe find Mom?”
Dewey nodded several times and Webby grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room, switching off the lights on the way out.
Huey knew Louie struggled with his sense of self-worth. In fact, he and Dewey probably knew it more than anyone, even Uncle Donald - they knew that small comments could chip away at Louie’s confidence and self-esteem easily; they knew that he was always anxious, and that when he had an anxiety attack (though this was the first in a while) he felt extremely embarrassed. They knew that he ached for their mom to understand him like she did her other boys.
They understood him when she didn’t.
Not for the first time, Huey wished he could help Louie realize how important to them he really was. He wished it more than anything.
Louie shifted again, but this time he clutched his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, still sleeping. Huey heard him mutter something that sounded like another apology.
Huey remembered the first time Louie had a panic attack - they were around six years old, living on the houseboat with Uncle Donald, and Louie’s anxiety had started to show itself severely and fiercely for such a young kid. He remembered he and Dewey crying as they listened to Uncle Donald try to calm their brother down on the other side of the door. He remembered thinking Louie was dying and being terrified he couldn’t do anything to help.
Six years later and he’s still not used to seeing Louie like this, but at least he knows how to handle it.
Louie rolled back over in his sleep and hugged Huey tightly. Huey hugged him back.
-
Dewey and Webby found Della in the kitchen with Ms. Beakley. She was sitting at the counter, forehead resting against the cold tile, with a glass of water in her hand.
“Mom!” Dewey said. “Mom! What happened with Louie?”
She looked up. “Bud, I--”
Webby cut in. “He really lost it upstairs. I think he had a panic attack.”
Della gaped at her. “What?”
Dewey nodded. “First one he’s had in months. What did you say to him?”
Della stared at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t-- is he okay?” She stood up. “Should I…”
Ms. Beakley watched Della.
“Should I…” She hesitated. “What do I do? Should I go see him? Where is he?”
“He just passed out upstairs. He’s in bed.” Dewey said, staring at Della. “We were trying to find Uncle Donald.”
He said it forcefully enough that Della understood what he was trying to say.
“Wow, bud, I… I didn’t mean to make him that upset. I had no idea,” she said sadly.
Dewey looked just as upset. “I know you didn’t mean it, but that’s the thing. You don’t have any idea. You don’t try to understand him.”
“No, I do, I really do try--”
“Mom, no!” Dewey said louder. Then he quieted down. “We’re all really happy you’re back in our life. But you’ve got to make the effort to understand Louie and how he works. He’s sensitive and he has low self-esteem and he loves his family more than anything, and you need to try to figure these things out instead of pretending you can just… appear and fit right back into the family.”
Della gazed at him. “Ouch, Dew, I never thought I could just--”
“You threatened his place in the family. Remember that?” Dewey was becoming more defensive. He had tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Then you sent him to his room. He couldn’t sleep for three nights after that, he was so panicked about what you said. And you never even came to discuss what happened with him. You just moved on. He didn’t.”
Webby and Ms. Beakley stayed silent but didn’t leave the room. They both watched Della.
She looked stunned. She said quietly, “Wow. I’m really sorry, Dewey.”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s okay. But I think you need to talk to Louie.”
She stared at Dewey a while, as if lost in thought, and then nodded. “You’re right.”
Dewey grabbed Webby’s hand again and said, “We’re gonna go find Uncle Donald.” He smiled faintly at her and turned and left the room.
-
Huey looked up from where he was laying with Louie, who was just waking up, when the door cracked open. Della poked her head through and whispered, “Hey. Is he awake?”
Huey glanced down. Louie sat up sleepily and blinked a couple times, still waking up.
“He literally just got up. Good timing,” Huey said with a smile that he hoped didn’t look too forced.
Louie noticed Della standing in the doorway and immediately flinched, and then his face reddened like he was embarrassed. “Hi, Mom,” he said faintly.
“Hi, Honey,” she said gently. “Can we talk for a sec?”
Louie looked at Huey, who nodded and stood up to leave them alone. As he walked out of the room he heard Della inhale deeply and noticed her hands were shaking a bit. Huey thought that maybe this was just as hard for her as it was for Louie.
Huey closed the door behind him and sat along the wall next to the door. He stayed there for a good half an hour, knowing everything was probably fine in there but wanting to be there for Louie nevertheless.
Eventually he heard soft sobbing from the other side of the door - Louie. Huey didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he silently opened the door a crack, just to check.
He saw Della embracing Louie in a fierce hug. Louie’s face was stuffed into her shoulder and he was holding her tightly. Della said something in a low voice that Huey couldn’t make out and Louie pulled away enough to look into Della’s eyes. He let out another sob, laughing lightly this time at something she said. Della smiled and kissed his forehead. Louie hugged her again.
Huey moved to close the door again and saw Dewey walking towards him. “Everything okay?” he said worriedly.
Huey smiled and nodded. “Yeah, seems like it.”
Dewey let out a sigh of relief. Then he met Huey’s eyes and said, “apparently Uncle Donald is out with Uncle Scrooge for the weekend? How did we not know this?”
“Oh. Yikes.”
“Yup.”
They both chuckled lightly.
After a minute the door opened behind them, and Louie stepped out holding Della’s hand. He saw his brothers and let go of Della to rush over to them. He hugged Huey tightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I love you too.” Dewey grinned widely and joined in on the hug.
Louie eventually pulled away and said, looking slightly sheepish, “So can we please not tell Uncle Donald about this?”
“No way,” Dewey said. “Of course we’re telling him.”
Louie made a pouty face. “But he’s gonna get all protective again. Last time this happened he treated me like I could do my little freak out thing any minute for a solid two weeks. I wasn’t allowed to do anything!”
Huey said, “It’s not your little freak out thing, it’s called a panic attack, and they happen to a lot of people. And he’s just looking out for you, Lou.”
Louie rolled his eyes and mumbled, “I know what it’s called. I’ve been having them since I was, like, five.” (Della looked pained and mildly stunned at this new information.)
Dewey attacked Louie with another hug, and the younger duck didn’t bother resisting. He slumped in his brother’s arms and released a long breath of air.
“We’re here for you, Loulou,” Dewey said. Louie was so fatigued he didn’t bother to roll his eyes at the nickname.
Webby came skipping down the hallway, smiling when she saw everyone was okay. “Grandma wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready, if you’re ready to eat it now.”
Della said, “ooh, yum,” and looked down at her boys. Dewey released Louie, patted his baby brother’s head, and he and Huey started making their way down the corridor to the stairs.
Louie grabbed Della’s hand again, and they followed.
Webby fell into step with Louie and took his free hand in hers. “Are you okay, Louie?”
Louie looked down shyly at his feet and squeezed her hand gratefully. “Yeah. Thank you, Webbs.”
They walked down to dinner that way, Louie holding both Della and Webby’s hands, and though it felt kind of ridiculous, he liked it. He felt valued. He felt loved. It wasn’t a very common feeling, but it warmed his insides and made him smile outwardly, even when no one was watching.
When they got to the foyer, Louie saw Dewey and Huey talking animatedly to a very worn-out looking Donald, who apparently had just walked through the door. Huey said something and Donald’s head shot up, his gaze immediately finding Louie, who’s face must have looked pretty rough, with puffy red eyes and dark circles underneath them. His uncle immediately stalked over and kneeled down, grabbing Louie’s two hands from Webby and Della and holding them in his own. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, staring into his nephew’s eyes.
Louie huffed like he was tired of hearing about it, but secretly he was grateful for his uncle and the concern he showed. Donald saw through that act immediately. “Yeah, I’m okay now.”
Donald pulled Louie in for his billionth hug that evening and Louie didn’t mind one bit.