Hi. I was just having major Stydia feels after the finale, so I had to do this in order to cope with my emotions. Enjoy!
"Leaving home in a sense involves a kind of second birth in which we give birth to ourselves." - Robert Neelly Bellah
She was away from everything she had ever known.
The streets of Paris were milling with people filled with romantic notions and silly thoughts and the belief that life was magical. They were wholly unaware of the darkness and misery that surrounded them, not knowing that an outcast walked among them.
Paris was no Beacon Hills.
The bartender watched as the petite girl with flowing hair and bright green eyes plopped down on a stool and promptly ordered a glass of scotch.
"Vous ne ressemblez pas le genre de fille qui boit du scotch," he commented, pouring her the drink.
She raised her head up and looked him in the eyes. He was quite young, maybe in his late twenties, his dark hair and striking blue eyes complementing a rather handsome face.
Taking her drink and swirling it around, she replied, "I have no idea what you just said."
Once a bitch, always a bitch.
"I said," he began, his eyes twinkling, "you do not look like the type of girl who drinks scotch."
"You don't know anything about me," she growled, throwing the drink down her throat and shuddering at the burn.
He set another glass in front of her without waiting for a cue. "Bad day?"
"Bad decade."
He nodded as if he understood, and she almost burst out laughing at the thought that anyone here could understand what she was going through.
The clinking of glasses and soft voices filled the classy bar, everyone from young socialites to older businessmen enjoying the opportunity to wind down on a Friday night. She had always craved class and status, and now that she finally had it, she didn't want it anymore.
Her thoughts strayed to a small town and a boy she had once loved. She had thought that he could give her the world, and when he failed to do so, she ran.
It was what she was best at.
"I'll have the same as the lady, please."
She started at the familiar voice and whipped around to see another boy, a boy very different from the one who plagued her thoughts.
He was older, his features were more defined, and he looked more confident than she remembered. Had he always dressed this well? She eyed his tailored suit with a cautious eye, wondering if this wasn't his more handsome, better dressed twin.
"Lydia Martin."
He was looking at her now, and she almost cringed under his gaze. It had been so long since someone had really looked at her, and his scrutiny was making her extremely uncomfortable.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her tone sounded much sharper than she'd expected it to. "Still stalking me? It's been five years. Get over yourself."
She heard the bartender chortling at her harsh words as he poured her another drink.
He smiled sadly, stroking his still full glass.
"I wish that I were here because of an unrequited crush," he answered after a long pause. "That would be so much easier."
She snorted, setting her drink down heavily. "Crush? You were obsessed with me." Clearly, she wasn't one for mincing words tonight.
He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her calmly. "I'm not that guy anymore."
She glared at him, surprised to find that she was somewhat disappointed. If she were to go back to Beacon Hills, the one thing she would have bet on to stay the same was his ridiculous affection for her.
She was suddenly afraid to learn what else had changed.
"Then why are you here?" she asked, forcefully, willing him to get to the point.
He sighed and took a small sip of his scotch, looking straight ahead. She again felt a flash of surprise and shock at how much he had changed since she had last seen him. The younger version of him would have been praising her to the heavens and obeying her orders without a second thought. This man who sat next to her was taking his own sweet time and seemed to be purposely making her angry.
"Something has happened," he finally informed her, and she blinked.
"Something always happens in that damn town," she replied, turning away from him. "What's so different this time?"
She could feel his eyes beseeching her, but she refused to break away from her icy exterior. He could not just show up after five years and pull her back into the madness that she had tried so hard to escape. He had no right to do something like that, and she opened her mouth to let him know just how little he was welcome here, but he cut her off.
"It's Allison," he admitted. "She's...sick."
Her face remained impassive, but inside, she felt as if her organs were about to burst out of her body. She felt her heart clench painfully as she thought of the beautiful girl who had once been her best friend, her closest confidante. This was why she had left; so that she didn't have to see the people she loved get hurt over and over again.
She clasped her hands in her lap. "Wolf bite?" she asked fearfully, her voice small.
"Cancer."
He said it so matter-of-factly that she felt like crying. She somehow sensed that his wasn't something new to him, that he had already grieved and had accepted it. She, on the other hand, never knew that she could feel this awful.
Cancer. She had always been positive that her friends would die because of a wolf attack or a hunter or some other enigma that wasn't supposed to exist, but this was beyond her. Cancer. Something they couldn't fight or make plans against. They would have to sit at her bedside and watch her fade away, not able to do anything about it.
"Is it really bad?" She was proud of how her voice did not crack at all.
"The doctors say she has four months to live," he said, watching her closely for any sign of weakness. She didn't relent.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Thank you for telling me," she stated, standing up and straightening her dress. "Drinks on me," she added, throwing a couple of bills next to her drink.
"That's it?" For the first time, he sounded angry. "Allison is going to die, and that's all you have to say?" His voice shook from fury.
Her face betrayed no emotions as she looked him straight in the eye.
"Tell her good luck."
Then she was gone, leaving him to look after her in disbelief, wondering how such an emotionless creature even existed.
Okay, don't worry. Many of your questions will be answered as the story goes on, like why is Lydia in Paris or how did Stiles find her. And never fear, the snarky, sarcastic Stiles we all love will be back in the next chapter! :) I just feel like five years is enough time for him to really change...especially because of what he's been through in my story, all of which will be revealed in due time.
Also, please excuse my French (literally). I got that from Google Translate, so it's most likely not accurate. Please let me know if it isn't so I can work on it, haha.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated!