Lucas was way too close to losing it.
He'd managed to keep his promises to the people that found out about his shadow, and had stopped actively trying to kill it several days ago. But the first four days of consistent beating up on a version of his younger self had taken it's toll, mentally.
Lucas had spent the remainder of the week roughly shoving Shadow Lucas into the closet and verbally bashing and berating it when it inevitably started sobbing. He caught a few precious hours of sleep when he could...but was far too paranoid to actually rest. Once he fell asleep, he was convinced that his shadow would show his true colors and try to kill him.
It wouldn't have. But that's besides the point.
Now it was almost midnight on Saturday night, and if Flowers was right...the stupid things were supposed to go away. Disappear. And the minutes felt like hours.
Lucas opened his closet door to the terrified gasp of his shadow, and drug him out by his shirt collar--throwing him in the corner of the room. This thing was supposed to disappear, and Lucas was going to watch him and make sure of it. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, glaring daggers in silence.
The shadow--Lucas's 15 year old self in all his sorrow--sat in the corner, hugging his knees and studying a spot on the floor. It wasn't crying any more, Thank fucking God thought Lucas, and seemed even more exhausted that Lucas himself.
Almost midnight. Come on, midnight.
And after a week of abuse, Shadow Lucas raised his eyes to the real Lucas, and spoke to him for the first time since he'd arrived.
"I hate you."
Lucas's glare lessened the tiniest bit as he replied.
"I know."
And then it was midnight, and it was gone.