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Chapter 7: worst case kid

Summary:

Amelia and the other members of MAGYK notice that something is off with Lucas.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lucas stared at the phone in his hands, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. The weight of everything—his spiraling health, the confusion, and now the bombshell about Amelia—was more than he could handle. He had no one else to turn to, no one else who could understand the mess of emotions that were tearing him apart. But Lilian, his sister, the person who had always been his closest ally, was the only person he felt like he could call.

He hesitated for a moment longer, then pressed the call button.

The phone rang a few times before Lilian answered, her voice thick with sleep. “Lucas? Is everything okay?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he forced the words out. “I need to talk to you about something… about Mom.”

Lilian’s voice immediately lost the grogginess, concern taking over. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“No,” Lucas replied, his voice shaky. “I found out something. Aunt Amelia isn’t just my aunt. She’s my mom. Nancy adopted me, and nobody ever told me.”

There was a long silence on the other end, one that stretched out like a bad omen. Lucas could hear the faint rustling of sheets as Lilian shifted, and his heart sank further. For a moment, he wondered if she’d hung up. Then, her voice came through, steady but laced with something Lucas couldn’t place.

“I know.”

Lucas’s world tilted. His stomach dropped as a rush of confusion, hurt, and anger flooded him. “What do you mean, you know?”

Lilian sighed, the sound heavy. “I found out a few years ago. Mom told me when I was visiting for Christmas. She explained everything, and… she asked me not to say anything to you. She wanted to tell you when the time was right, when you were ready. I thought it was best to keep it quiet, Lucas. I didn’t want to make things harder for you. For everyone.”

His throat tightened, words failing him for a moment. “You knew? You knew all this time and didn’t tell me? Lilian, why didn’t you say anything? Why wouldn’t you tell me that Amelia was my mom?”

Lilian’s voice softened, but there was an edge of frustration now, too. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to add more chaos to everything. You were already struggling, Lucas. I thought it would be easier for you to not know, easier for you to not have to deal with it. The truth doesn’t change anything, does it? Amelia is still the same. She’s always been there for you.”

Lucas felt a surge of anger. “But it changes everything, Lilian! You’ve known, and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me! I’ve been walking around living a lie, thinking Aunt Amelia was just my aunt when she’s been my mother the whole time!”

Lilian’s voice grew quieter, but she didn’t back down. “I didn’t do it to betray you. I thought it was for the best. We were already dealing with so much, and Mom—she was trying to keep everything together. I didn’t think you needed more on your plate.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, a mix of frustration and sorrow choking him. “So, you just… kept quiet. You just let me walk through life without knowing the truth. You didn’t think I deserved to know? I had a right to know, Lilian.”

“I know,” she said quietly, a long pause stretching between them. “I’m sorry. But I thought it would hurt you more. I didn’t want you to feel abandoned by everyone. I thought the truth would just make everything worse.”

Lucas felt the bitter sting of betrayal, the rawness of the wound that had been reopened. “It did make it worse, Lilian. I don’t care if you thought it was easier. It doesn’t change how I feel now. I feel… alone. Like I’ve been in the dark this whole time. You could’ve been there for me. But instead, you kept quiet.”

Lilian’s voice softened, the apology evident in her words, but it didn’t soothe the ache in his chest. “I didn’t want you to feel alone. I thought I was protecting you. I thought it was the right thing to do. But I see now that it wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

Lucas could feel the weight of her apology hanging in the air, but it didn’t ease the storm inside him. “You don’t get it. I don’t need you to protect me. I needed you to support me. To be honest with me.”

There was another long silence, one that neither of them seemed to know how to fill. Lucas’s mind swirled with thoughts too tangled to express. His sister, the person he thought would always have his back, had kept the most important truth from him for years.

“I’m so sorry, Lucas,” Lilian finally whispered. “I thought I was doing what was best. But I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“I don’t even know what to do with this,” Lucas said, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to feel anymore.”

“I know,” Lilian said quietly, her voice filled with regret. “Just… take your time. I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I love you, Lucas.”

But Lucas couldn’t respond right away. The silence between them was thick and suffocating, and all he could do was nod, even though she couldn’t see him. Finally, with a quiet, shaky exhale, he hung up the phone, the weight of her words crashing over him.

He sank back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts fragmented and swirling. The world had shifted again, and he didn’t know how to get his bearings. What was supposed to be a conversation that would bring him comfort had only deepened the divide between him and the people he had trusted most.

The bitter taste of betrayal lingered in his mouth as he lay there, alone with his thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that had changed.

 


 

The cold, empty feeling in Lucas’s chest grew with every second, the knot tightening as he processed the harsh words from his sister Lauren. His hands shook as he stared at the phone screen, a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. He thought of his younger sister, Lila—just fifteen years old–the only other sibling he could think of to call—someone who hadn’t been as aware of Lucas’s teenage angst, someone who was still in the house, someone who didn’t quite know the whole story but knew enough.. He hit her contact button, hoping for something—anything—to calm the tide of frustration and confusion.

The ringing seemed to echo louder than it ever had before, a painful reminder of how isolated he was now. When the phone clicked and a voice picked up, it wasn’t Lila’s.

“Hey, Lucas,” Lauren’s voice was flat, colder than he had ever heard it. It didn’t sound like his sister at all. “What’s up?”

Confusion coursed through Lucas’s veins. He hadn’t expected to hear Lauren, not when he was trying to reach Lila. “Hey, Lauren, can I talk to Lila?”

There was an awkward silence on the other end, as if Lauren was hesitating, before she spoke again. “Lila can’t talk to you right now.”

His heart sank, a feeling of dread slowly spreading. “What do you mean? Why? I just want to talk to her, Lauren. Please.”

Lauren’s voice was cold, controlled, like she was reading from a script. “Mom told Lila and the others not to talk to you anymore. She said you’ve been a bad influence on them. She doesn’t want them involved in your… problems.”

The air seemed to leave Lucas’s lungs, and he felt like he was falling, spiraling down into a void. “What? Bad influence?” His voice cracked, the hurt bubbling up into his throat. “Lauren, I’m their brother. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve just been trying to figure things out.”

Lauren’s voice remained unyielding, sharp like a blade. “You’ve been causing too much drama, Lucas. Mom said it’s for the best. She doesn’t want them caught up in your mess.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Every syllable hit him like a blow he wasn’t prepared for. He felt the walls closing in, his chest tightening as his emotions swirled into a storm. “So that’s it? You’re just turning your backs on me now because I’m struggling?” The pain was evident in his voice, raw and vulnerable.

“Mom said it’s for the best,” Lauren repeated, her words becoming more distant, as if she were trying to protect herself from his pain. “I think it’s better for everyone if you just… deal with things on your own. I’m sorry, but I can’t go against what Mom says.”

Lucas could hardly breathe. His hands were clammy, and the phone felt too heavy in his grip. He tried to steady his voice, but the words came out small, barely a whisper. “I can’t believe this. You’re all just going to leave me like this? After everything we’ve been through? I’m your brother, Lauren. We grew up together. I’m your brother.”

There was a long pause, the silence more deafening than anything Lauren could have said. For a moment, Lucas thought she might crack, might say something to make it better. But then, in a voice devoid of any warmth, she replied, “I don’t have a choice, Lucas. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Before he could even respond, the line went dead, and Lucas was left holding the phone, staring at the screen as if it were the only thing left in the world. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

He called Lila next, desperation flooding his veins. The phone rang, then went to voicemail. Over and over, he tried, but each attempt felt like a futile cry into the void. His stomach churned as he realized that it wasn’t just him now—his family had decided to turn their backs on him. Not just his mom, but his sisters too, the people he had once counted on to be his support.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Lucas dropped the phone beside him, the weight of his situation threatening to crush him entirely. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the effort to hold back tears that felt as though they had been building for years. The isolation he had always tried to avoid now engulfed him completely. His mind spiraled in a whirlwind of confusion, betrayal, and pain.

He felt utterly alone. No one was there for him. No one who had ever promised to be there through thick and thin was on his side now. The family he had once been a part of—the family he thought he could always turn to—was gone. And with it, a deep, aching emptiness settled into his chest.

And in that agonizing moment, Lucas realized something that broke him even more: had he ever really been a part of that family at all?

 


 

It was late—past midnight—and Lucas had been locked in his room, trying to drown out the thoughts that were spiraling in his head. His mom had been calling for him, demanding he get his act together, stop acting out, and start “doing something” with his life. She couldn’t understand, couldn’t see past the mask he wore to hide the fact that he was barely hanging on.

“Lucas, you have to stop being lazy,” Nancy had shouted from the end of the hall, her voice sharp and cutting. “I’ve told you over and over again—you’re wasting your potential. You need to take responsibility for yourself. Do your damn laundry!”

Lucas had stood in the doorway of his room, hands shaking, fists clenched, trying to keep himself under control. But everything about that moment, all the anger, all the suffocating pressure, finally snapped. “You think I care about laundry right now?” His voice was hoarse, and his throat burned with each word, but it didn’t stop him. “I’m too busy planning ways to kill myself to do my fucking laundry!”

The silence in the house was deafening after his words. His mom froze, staring at him in shock, but the storm of emotions inside Lucas roared too loudly for him to stop. His heart pounded in his ears, and everything inside him was so raw, so exposed, that it felt like there was nothing left to hide.

Nancy’s face twisted in disbelief, and in that moment, Lucas could see the mixture of anger and disappointment brewing in her eyes. “How dare you speak to me like that!” Her voice had risen, a sharp reprimand that cut through him like a blade. “You don’t speak to me like that in my house, young man. Apologize. Now.”

Lucas’s anger boiled over into tears that he couldn’t control. The last thing he wanted was to apologize for the truth, but the reality of the situation was that he was terrified—terrified of the crushing weight of it all, terrified of the consequences.

“You think I’m being dramatic? That it’s just me throwing a tantrum? Maybe if you’d stop and actually see me, you’d understand what I’m really going through,” he had snapped, his voice shaking with desperation. But his words fell on deaf ears.

Nancy, cold and unyielding, had stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips. “You need to stop this right now. I will not let you manipulate me into feeling sorry for you. You do not speak to me that way. You need to apologize to me, now.”

The words felt like they were suffocating him. He felt trapped, a prisoner in his own mind, unable to escape the crushing weight of everything he had just said. But he was still a kid, and his mom held the power over everything in his life. He had no choice but to lower his gaze and mumble, “I’m sorry.” His voice barely made it out, the apology tasting bitter on his tongue, a lie he had to tell in order to end the conversation, to end the pain.

But as the words left his mouth, he felt hollow—like he was losing himself in front of the one person who should have been the one to help him hold it all together.

The argument had ended, but the wounds lingered, festering quietly in the background. As Lucas sat on the edge of his bed, trying to breathe through the knot in his chest, he heard footsteps approaching his door. A knock, soft but firm. It was his younger sister, Lynette, only 13 but already carrying the weight of the family on her small shoulders.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in. The door creaked open, and Lucas could see the anger in her eyes, even through the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. “I can’t believe you, Lucas,” she spat, her voice shaking with a mix of rage and hurt. “You yell at Mom like that—in front of us—like we don’t matter.” She stepped into his room, her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re supposed to be the one who looks out for us, but you just—just—hurt her. You hurt Mom and you hurt all of us.”

Lucas stared at his sister, his heart aching with the sting of her words. “I didn’t mean to—” he started, but Lynette cut him off.

“No, you don’t get it!” she shouted, her face red with anger. “You don’t get it! You can’t just say stuff like that. You can’t yell at Mom, especially in front of the little ones. You know how they are—Lucy, Lauren, and Lila—they look up to you, Lucas. They think you’re strong. You’re supposed to protect us, not make us feel scared.”

The words were sharp, each one landing harder than the last. Lucas felt like he was being torn apart by the people who were supposed to love him. He wanted to apologize, to explain himself, but he couldn’t—because he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to make Lynette, or anyone, understand just how lost he felt.

Lynette’s voice dropped, quieter now, tinged with sorrow. “You’re not the only one who’s struggling, Lucas. We all are. But yelling at Mom like that… it’s not gonna fix anything.” She turned to leave, but before she did, she looked back at him, her eyes full of pain. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The door slammed shut, and Lucas was left in the silence, the weight of his sister’s words crushing him. He felt like a failure—not just as a son, but as a brother, as someone who should have known better, someone who should have been stronger.

As the tears began to spill, Lucas finally allowed himself to break down. But even as the tears came, they did nothing to erase the deep sense of isolation and regret that had settled in his chest.

 


 

The weight of the phone call with his sisters still hung over Lucas, but he shoved it aside as best as he could. He couldn’t afford to think about it, not now. Not with everything he was already carrying. He had learned to compartmentalize, to bury the emotions until they could no longer be ignored. So, he threw himself into his work—doing what he did best, focusing on the surgeries, the cases, anything that would keep his mind occupied.

He found himself lingering in the operating rooms longer than necessary, volunteering for extra tasks, anything to keep from being alone with his thoughts. The sterile, buzzing hum of the hospital felt like a distraction, a temporary escape from everything weighing him down. But even as he worked, he could feel the familiar knot in his stomach tightening, a gnawing sense of anxiety creeping up on him with every passing hour.

It was early afternoon when he felt the first wave of nausea hit. He had just finished up a lengthy procedure and was grabbing a few minutes of quiet in the hallway. His stomach churned, and he had to grip the wall to steady himself. He tried to swallow it down, to push through it like he had done so many times before, but his body betrayed him as his stomach lurched. The bile burned the back of his throat, and he quickly ducked into a nearby restroom, closing the door behind him and leaning over the sink.

The familiar feeling of anxiety-induced nausea overwhelmed him, but this time, there was something deeper. Something that lingered in the pit of his stomach long after the moment passed. He had become so used to the constant discomfort, the constant churning inside him, that it was almost normal now. He barely even registered the fact that his body had been rejecting food for weeks now. Skipping breakfast had become second nature, and lunch? It hardly mattered anymore.

The constant drain on his energy from not eating was becoming harder to ignore, but he had perfected the art of pretending everything was fine. He had learned to smile through the nausea, to mask the exhaustion with polite distance. It worked at work—at least for now—but at home, it felt like a different story.

At the end of the day, he returned to Amelia’s place, slipping in through the door quietly. Amelia had been at work all day, and the house was silent. He could hear Scout’s soft babbling from somewhere in the back of the house, and the scent of dinner lingered in the air, but Lucas didn’t feel hungry. Not even a little bit. He was more concerned about the gnawing ache in his stomach that had been constant since he had skipped lunch. He could feel his energy draining as the day had worn on, but he kept his pace steady.

“Hey,” Amelia called out as he entered the living room. She was folding laundry, her movements smooth and practiced, but her eyes darted up when she noticed the way he was standing—shoulders slumped, head slightly down. She seemed to sense the shift in him, though he hadn’t said a word.

“Hey,” Lucas responded, his voice flat, polite but distant. He walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring at the contents. But nothing looked appetizing. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a slow sip.

Amelia watched him, still folding the clothes. There was something in her gaze—a quiet concern that he had been avoiding for days. She hadn’t said anything directly about his health lately, but she was picking up on his pattern. She noticed that his energy seemed lower, his presence quieter, and he was becoming more withdrawn.

“How was your day?” she asked, her voice casual but with an undercurrent of careful observation.

Lucas offered a small smile, a tight one, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It was fine. Busy.” His tone lacked any of its usual warmth, as if he was holding a part of himself back.

Amelia didn’t push him further. She set the laundry down, stepping over to the counter. “I was thinking of making dinner. Something simple… You hungry?”

Lucas gave a non-committal shrug, leaning against the counter. “Not really.” He felt the knot in his stomach tighten again as the thought of food made his nausea worsen. “I’m not that hungry.”

Amelia eyed him carefully, her brows furrowing in subtle concern. “You didn’t eat at work, did you?”

Lucas shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “I just… didn’t feel like it.” It was a half-truth. He didn’t want to explain, didn’t want her to know how bad it had gotten. The more he said, the more it would feel real, and the last thing he wanted was for her to start worrying.

She let it go for the moment, but the silence that followed felt thick, uncomfortable. She could tell something was off, even if he didn’t want to talk about it. But she didn’t push him. Not tonight.

Later that evening, when they were sitting in the living room, Amelia spoke again, her voice soft but direct. “Lucas, you’ve been distant. You’re not eating like you should, and you’re barely saying anything. What’s going on?”

Lucas stiffened at the question. He had known this moment would come. Amelia was too perceptive for her own good. He could feel his chest tighten, his breath quicken as anxiety took over. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, the lie escaping his lips before he could even think about it. “Just tired. Long day at work.”

She didn’t buy it. “You’re not fine,” Amelia said gently, but firmly. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You know that, right?”

Lucas could feel the lump in his throat. He wasn’t ready to open up about everything—about the phone call with his sisters, the strain with his mom, or the gnawing emptiness inside him. He wanted to scream, wanted to break down, but he didn’t. Instead, he forced a smile again, tighter this time.

“I’m just trying to get through,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “Just trying to get through.”

Amelia studied him, her concern deepening, but she didn’t push. She simply nodded, though her mind was already turning, already making plans to get through to him.

As the evening wore on, Lucas retreated more and more into himself, the space between them growing despite the proximity. He stayed polite, distant, a careful mask of normalcy over the storm inside him. And as the nausea rose again, he reminded himself that he had to keep going. Keep pretending.

 


 

Back at the apartment, Amelia tried to push the worry aside as she played with Scout and got him ready for bed. But her mind kept drifting back to Lucas. The way he had been pushing people away. The way he refused to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface.

When she heard the faint sound of the door opening, she turned to find Lucas standing in the doorway, his eyes downcast.

  “Hey,” she greeted him softly, glancing up from where she was cleaning up. “How was work today?”

“Busy,” Lucas replied, his voice distant. He didn’t meet her eyes, his gaze trained on the floor as he kicked off his shoes and walked further into the living room.

Amelia watched him carefully, her concern growing. It wasn’t like Lucas to be so detached, so quiet. She knew something was off, but Lucas had always been private, always kept things to himself. She couldn’t force him to talk, but she didn’t want him to feel isolated, either.

“You hungry?” she asked after a beat, trying to keep things light.

Lucas shook his head quickly, too quickly. “No, I’m good. Just tired, like I said earlier.”

Amelia hesitated, trying to figure out how to approach him. “Alright. Well, if you change your mind... just let me know.”

Lucas nodded again, his face unreadable, before he turned and made his way toward his room.  

Amelia watched him go, a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t shake. She knew he was struggling, but the walls he put up were impenetrable. And without any way to reach him, she felt helpless.  

She tried to remind herself that this was part of the process—that recovery, or grief, or whatever this was, wouldn’t be linear. But the fear was there, lingering at the edges of her mind.

 


 

The smell of fresh-baked cookies filled the cozy apartment as Jules carefully pulled the tray from the oven, setting it on a cooling rack. She smiled triumphantly, turning to Mika and Lucas, who stood nearby, both covered in smears of flour and chocolate.

“Okay, moment of truth,” Jules announced, beaming as she surveyed their work. “These are going to be amazing. Maxine is going to regret not being here for this.”

Mika snorted, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, Maxine’s not missing anything. She’s probably out sipping martinis and gathering fresh gossip.”

Lucas offered a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stood by the counter, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a dish towel. His heart felt heavy, but he forced himself to focus on the lighthearted banter between his friends.

“You’re probably right,” Jules said, grinning. “She’s going to come back with the juiciest stories about her bridge club or something.”

“Or another long-winded tale about that one neighbor’s affair,” Mika added with a dramatic flourish.

Lucas chuckled again, his smile fleeting. He could feel the knot in his stomach tightening—the familiar weight of his nausea creeping up on him. Being here, with his friends, was supposed to help distract him from the noise in his head, but even the simple act of standing here, pretending to be okay, felt exhausting.

“Alright, moment of truth,” Jules said again, grabbing a spatula and sliding a cookie onto a plate. She turned to Lucas, holding it out to him. “You’re up first. You’ve been doing all the heavy lifting.”

Lucas blinked, caught off guard. His stomach churned at the sight of the cookie, and he instinctively took a small step back, shaking his head. “I’m good,” he said quickly, his voice light but tight. “You guys go ahead.”

Jules frowned, lowering the plate slightly. “Lucas, you helped bake these. You have to try one.”

“Yeah, dude,” Mika chimed in, reaching for one herself. “They’re literally perfect.” She took a bite, humming dramatically. “See? Amazing.”

Lucas forced another smile, hoping it looked convincing. “I’m just not that hungry,” he said, shrugging.

Jules tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “You haven’t eaten anything all day,” she said, her voice laced with quiet concern.

Mika glanced over, her expression softening. “Yeah, you’ve been… off lately. Is everything okay?”

Lucas’ chest tightened, and for a moment, he thought about brushing it off with a joke, but the weight of their concern felt suffocating. He quickly shook his head, his hands gripping the counter behind him. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

The room fell quiet for a beat, the lighthearted atmosphere dimming.

“Lucas,” Jules said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to pretend with us. If something’s going on—”

“I said I’m fine,” Lucas cut her off, his tone defensive now. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just—can we not do this right now?”

Mika and Jules exchanged a look, both unsure of how to respond.

“Okay,” Jules said finally, her tone careful. “We don’t have to talk about it. But… we’re here. You know that, right?”

Lucas nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel the lump in his throat growing, the weight in his chest threatening to crush him. He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want their concern. He just wanted to be normal for one day.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Mika reached over and gently nudged his arm. “Let’s just hang out, then,” she said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “You’re not getting out of board game night later, by the way.”

Lucas forced a chuckle, grateful for the shift in tone. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice steadier now.

As the afternoon wore on, Lucas stayed in the background, letting Mika and Jules carry the conversation. He laughed when it felt appropriate, nodded when they looked at him for input, but his mind was miles away. He knew they meant well, but he couldn’t let them in. Not now. Not when everything felt so precariously balanced.

When the cookies were finally packed up and the mess cleaned, Lucas excused himself to the couch, watching Mika and Jules banter over which board game to play. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to quiet the storm inside him.

They cared about him—he knew that. But letting them see the cracks felt impossible. So he smiled, played along, and kept his turmoil buried, just like always.



Notes:

story playlist:
September song ~ Agnes Obel
She used to be mine ~ Jessie Mueller
Father time ~ Alli Mauzey
High hopes ~ Kodaline
Two ~ Sleeping At Last
Flight risk ~ Tommy Lefroy
Liability ~ Lorde
Don’t tell my mom ~ Reneé Rapp
Seven ~ Taylor Swift
The grudge ~ Olivia Rodrigo
For you ~ Delaney Bailey
Getting older ~ Billie Eilish
Snow angel ~ Reneé Rapp