1.

"STILINSKI! BENCH!"

In a way, I was relieved to be off of the field. It wasn't like I really knew what I was doing. I just kind of, ran around, looking at things, doing my best not to fall.

My best wasn't very good most of the time…

"Yeah, Coach," I took a sigh of relief as I trudged over in the direction of the single metal bench on the side of the lacrosse field. It was my bench. My name wasn't on it. I hadn't paid for it, or brought it here, but it was mine. I was the only one who ever used it. Whether it was by choice or command, I occupied that bench more than any other person on the entire team.

I say all of that to emphasize the fact that it was a bit shocking, to say the least, when I saw another person sitting in my spot. Sure, it was a big bench, and there was room for me to sit, but they were in my spot.

I got closer before I said anything. The person, a girl, didn't seem to notice me walking over, having been too into the book she was reading. I couldn't see much of her face, her hair falling in front of almost half of it, but I could easily see that she was pretty.

She wasn't pale, but she wasn't tan either. I guess I would call it cream. Yeah, that works. Her skin was a nice cream color. And her hair, it was long. The ends of the strands hiding her face were just grazing her knees. And it was brown. But not just the normal brown. It was chocolate.

I know the color of chocolate anywhere, because I have to avoid it. Sweets aren't great for ADHD, sugar rush causing and all they are.

So yeah, she was a pretty, girl. Not Lydia pretty, but pretty none the less.

I was just about to sit on the other side of the bench when…

"Shit!"

And of course, because my luck with girls is forever and endlessly nonexistent, I trip over my shoelace and fall on my face. And when I say that, I don't mean it metaphorically. No, my face actually hit the dirt.

Yeah, that's just how life is for me.

So, after spitting the grass and dirt out of my mouth, I did my best at pushing myself off of the ground. There was no use, though. I pretty much just fell back on my face when I felt something soft grab my arm.

Jerking my arm away, flailing in the opposite direction, and with the lack of grace only I could display, I let out a startled yelp.

"Sorry. Sorry."

And the warmth was gone.

I looked up to see the girl…

Wait!

"You're not at girl."

She… He… frowned for a second, before rolling his eyes. Then, he reached his hand out to help me up. I took it, amazed that a guy could have such feminine features.

He sighed. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. No words could find their way to my lips. It wasn't like I was nervous. I was just, shocked.

"Ok, well… yeah…"

I was about to thank him. I swear I was. I just didn't know how to make words. But it was too late anyway. He was walking off towards the field.

Towards Danny.

And Danny was wrapping his hands around his waist.

And then they kissed.

And I couldn't stop myself from looking.

And so I kept on looking.

And looking.

I watched until Jackson turned to look at me. Then I looked away as if I had been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to.

Which, I guess I was. Kind of…

"Dude? You alright? You fell pretty hard," Scott threw his arm around my shoulders as he spoke, trying to match my previous line of vision with his own.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," I offered only half interested in speaking on the topic of yet another one of my epic stumbles. What I really wanted to talk about was just who exactly this feminine looking dude that Danny was practically drooling over. "Who's that?"

Scott, ever so observant, had no clue who I was talking about. He didn't even have to say anything for me to know that he wasn't aware of who I was looking at. So I pointed, doing my best not to hit him in the side of the head. I mean, I had to at least give him some credit. Ever since he and Allison had broken up, he had at least been making a noble effort to pay more attention to things other than her.

Well… as noble of an effort as Scott could. But even so…

"Him, dude. The guy with Danny."

Looking where I gestured, Scott's face lit up. "Ohhhhh. That's Danny's new boyfriend. Uhhh… Ariel I think. Why?"

Ariel.

Jesus, even this guy's name sounds like a girl. I think his parents had an agenda.

"Nothing, I just… he… was here when I tripped. He helped me up," was my articulate response.

Not too long after discovering his name, everyone went to the locker rooms to shower and change. I, as I always did, just changed and left out. No use in showering just to put used clothes back on, go home, and shower again.

So I headed out.

Normally, I would wait around for Scott, but today, he had to get to work and said he would just ride his bike, which made no sense to me. Personally, if I was him, I would just run to work. It would take him all of five minutes. But that's the difference between me and him I guess.

Common sense.

Oh well, didn't make a difference to me. It gave me more time to see Lydia.

Yeah, I timed it.

Lydia walked out of the school building at exactly 4:46 every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. I still don't know what it was that had her staying after on those specific days, but details didn't matter to me. All I cared about was seeing, and maybe even speaking, to her.

It had been two years. Two years since the first time Lydia Martin ever spoke to me. Two years since my life began to truly have meaning. Two years…

And in those two years, I hadn't spoken to her once more. It's not that I didn't want to. God knows I wanted to. And it wasn't that I couldn't. Half the time I couldn't shut the hell up.

I just didn't know how to. What would I say?

"Hey, Lydia. Remember me? Stiles. I let you borrow my jacket so your hair wouldn't get wet… two years ago."

Because that was it. That was the only form of interaction the two of us had had since… ever. I gave her my jacket, and she said thanks.

Thanks.

And I never got that jacket back.

But the jacket didn't matter to me. I wanted to speak to her again.

And today, I had decided that I was going to. So as soon as I heard the doors to the school open, I knew my time was limited. Because just as she walked out at 4:46, she waited for Jackson at his car for five minutes. Which gave me four to talk to her.

"Lydia," I yelled out, waving frantically. I looked up at my hand, only to blush a little at my over enthusiasm, and immediately put it down. But I called out again. This time as I walked over.

"Lydia, hey!"

Then, the impossible happened. She smiled.

I swear my heart stopped when the blinding white flash of beautiful white pearls she called her teeth were exposed to the light of day. Time stood still as I trudged on.

Lydia hadn't smiled at me in two years. Not since she told me 'thanks.'

I picked my pace up a little as I noticed that she pushed away from the Porsche. Was this really happening? Was God really going to make this the happiest day of my life?

Was Lydia fucking Martin about to talk to me?

I took a deep breath, and I closed my eyes. I don't know why I closed them; it just felt like the thing to do; like it was a clarifying moment. That if I closed them, and opened them again, only then would I know for sure that this moment was real. Only then could I be positive that I wasn't dreaming this.

Because this… this was a dream come true.

At least it was; until I opened my eyes again. Then, it became a nightmare. And just like the one dream that we all have; you know, the one where we fall off of a cliff and don't wake up until just when were about to hit the ground? Yeah, that was the one. I was having it, but I was wide awake. And the ground, yeah it came before I woke up. And I didn't just hit it. I splattered onto it. But I wasn't dead; no I was very much alive.

I know this because I could feel my heart. I could feel it as it shattered into a million tiny pieces. And then those pieces, they were shattered into dust. And the dust, it flew away.

Gone with the wind.

A sweet wind that I only caught in passing. Just as I did Lydia, every single day.

She was my wind.

My air.

My life.

Passing me by once more, forever, and eternally.

I felt the wind leave my lungs as the heat of embarrassment filled my cheeks. I turned around to watch her stroll right on by, probably to greet Jackson with a kiss. She was probably going to greet Jackson with my kiss.

I took a sigh of defeat as I rotated to follow her with my eyes, already prepared to have my insides slowly pulled from my body. But, once I finally looked, I was surprised to not have seen Jackson, possessively groping at her in a way he did only when I was present.

"ARIEL!"

So that was his name.

I stood by as Lydia went up and pulled Mr. Androgyny into tight embrace. At first, I was a little taken back by seeing Lydia so warm with someone other than Allison, but, then I put two and two together. If this Ariel dude was dating Danny, Jackson's best friend, then it only made sense that he hung out with Jackson, and more importantly, Lydia.

For crying out loud, the guy couldn't have been here for long without me ever having seen him, and he was already cooler than I had ever been. Not that I really cared about that. No, what I did care about however was that he had done something that I, in all my years of living, had never been able to even dream of doing.

He had gotten Lydia Martin to come to him.

"Gay guys have it so easy…" I muttered to myself, shaking my head only slightly.

"What are you talking about, Stiles?"

I jumped at hearing Scott's voice so unexpectedly. He was getting better and better at sneaking up on me lately.

"Nothing, just…" I sighed and threw my arms out in a wild gesture towards Lydia. "I have been trying to get Lydia to just look at me for the past two years with absolutely no success."

"There was that one time at lunch-"

I stopped him with a dejected look.

"Like I was saying… Lydia hasn't even looked at me for two WHOLE years," my arms were up above my head, "and this guy shows up from God knows where, and she's all over him."

Scott had a small smirk on his face, the one he got whenever I ranted about Lydia.

"What?" I said with as much venom in my voice as possible. Which, coming from me, wasn't much.

Scott shook his head a bit and laughed. "Uh, I think he's gay dude."

At that very moment, I wanted nothing more than to banish my best friend of many years to a deep, dark abyss of no return. Leave it to Scott to make things worse, by stating exactly why they were worse in the first place.

Pinching the bride of my nose, I closed my eyes as I spoke. "Yes, Scott, I am aware. That is what I mean."

When I saw the patented 'I don't understand' expression lurch its way onto Scott's face, I went on.

"What I'm trying to say is I could get girls, namely Lydia, to talk to me too, if I liked guys." I said that as if it were common knowledge. Which, in my humble opinion, it was. Or, at least it should be.

Gay guys get all the girls. Girls want to hang out with them. They want to go places and do things with them. I'm even more than partially convinced that on some instances, they do a little bit more than just 'hang out.' But no one ever takes me seriously when I suggest that.

I distinctly remember Allison once telling me that it would 'contradict the meaning of what it is to be a truly gay man to have sex with a woman.'

My ass.

If Lydia was all over me the way she was hugging this new guy, I don't care if I was gay, straight, bi, pan, rainbow, or what the hell ever. I would get turned the fuck on.

It defied all laws of nature to not be.

It's LYDIA FREAKING MARTIN!

Somewhere in getting lost in my train of thought, I look over to Scott to see that his confusion had been replaced by something else. I want to call it contemplativeness, but then, Scott's never really one to contemplate much of anything.

I'm not even sure that he knows what contemplate means.

"What, Scott?" I ask, only half interested in finding out what hair brained theory he could be concocting in that undoubtedly vacant mind of his.

He narrowed his eyes at me. I didn't know what was about to come out of his mouth but I braced myself for the worst.

"Just… you know you can tell me anything. Right?"

That wasn't what I had been expecting.

"Uh… yeah… dude. Why?"

"Nothing," Scott said shaking his head. Suddenly he turned and waved. "Gotta get to work, dude. See ya'."

I would have spent more time trying to decipher the strange ways of Scott McCall but, the very second I decided to delve into thought, something pushed me.

I knew without looking what it was. I had been pushed by it so many times before; it was almost like this shove had a certain identity. A distinct feel.

"Move it, Stilinski!"

I flailed my arms in attempt to regain my balance, to no avail of course. I fell enough on my own accord; I didn't need anyone's help tripping, stumbling, or falling. I did fine by myself.

So, as I waved my arms around, doing my best to grab onto thin air in order to prevent from falling, of course I grab onto someone's shirt.

Or course.

And it would only make sense that said person goes crashing down with me. Because what type of public humiliation doesn't involve me dragging at least one other person down with me.

And so there I was. Hand tangled up in someone else's shirt. On the ground for the second time today. And I could feel everyone's eyes on me. And in that moment, I realized that after two years, Lydia Martin was looking at me. And my heart jumped.

And then, I realized that after two years, Lydia Martin was looking at me… because I had made an idiot of myself.

… And my heart fell.

"I should kick your ass, Stilinski. What the hell is wrong with-"

"Come on, Jackson," The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn't anyone I knew. And it sounded close, so it wasn't anyone standing over me. Which only left one person.

I sat up slowly and looked to my right. I was right. It was him. Ariel. His name was Ariel. I needed to remember that. Apparently the universe wanted me to fail at life whenever he was around, so the least I could do would be to commit him name to memory.

"It's not his fault you pushed him."

Damn right it wasn't.

Jackson took a moment to analyze the situation. I have come to realize, over the years, that Jackson isn't nearly as spur-of-the-moment as you would think. No, everything he says, and does, is well thought out. I remember one time, this one kid spilled soda on Jackson's absolute favorite jacket. It was a cream color, with a ton of bronze buttons and whatnot. Needless to say, it looked, and most likely was, expensive. And this kid spilled red soda all over it.

Now, everyone there, including me, expected Jackson to explode in an epic meltdown of gargantuan proportions. We all thought there would be yelling, and hitting, and bleeding, and crying (from the soda kid of course). But there wasn't much of anything. All Jackson did was close his eyes, take a deep breath, shrug the jacket off and toss it on the trashcan.

Because of course there was no way to get a stain of out a jacket of such expense.

And that was it. At least until the next day. Because the next day, we all found out that the kid was suspended for throwing his soda on Jackson. Throwing it! We all saw. Jackson bumped into him. And the poor soul was suspended for a week.

Yeah, that was when I realized just how evil Jackson really was.

So when Jackson simply huffed and walked off in the direction of his beloved Porsche, it didn't really surprise me much.

What did surprise me though, was the fact that Lydia didn't seem to even spare me a fleeting glance before she trailed off behind her boyfriend.

I never knew just what it was she saw in him. I mean, other than the good looks, popularity, and money. But once you got past all of that, what was left? It wasn't like he had a great personality to fall back on should he suddenly get hit by a bus, leaving him horribly disfigured, and poor after having to pay for all of his medical bills.

No, then he'd just be a poor, ugly, asshole.

"You ok?"

There that soft hand was again. I knew who it was. I had never felt a hand so soft before today, but that's only because Lydia has never touched me.

Getting off topic there…

So, I looked up and saw him looking down at me. I know that I had already come to the conclusion that he was a guy, but, if I was honest, I still stand by my opinion from earlier on that day.

He was pretty.

He had skin better than most girls I knew… well saw. The only girl I really knew was Allison. His hair was long and silky looking. Brown, not dark like Scott's, but not light either.

But what got me were his eyes. Big, wide, and full of innocence. Brown. A soft brown. Nothing about him screamed aggressiveness. Everything exuded a gentle air.

It was calming.

I realized that I had been staring when he withdrew his hand and smiled.

"Still think I look like a girl?"

I felt my face heat up instantly.

"NO! No, I can tell you're obviously… NOT a girl. I'm sure you have all the right parts and everything to vouch for that…" I brought my hand to my face as soon as the words left my mouth. "Dude, I'm sorry. I just-"

"It's fine," he laughed. I wish I had a laugh as smooth as his. When I laugh I always sound like I'm nervous, or confused. Which, half the time, I am. But that's beside the point.

"Thanks for earlier." I don't know why it came out just then. Something just took over my body and made me say it. Something always takes over my body and makes me say something. I can't remember the last time I was silent for more than a few seconds.

I stood up, doing my best to look as coordinated as I could. I'm almost positive that I didn't look in the least bit what I wanted to, but I made it to my feet without falling again. That was a win in my book. Then I held my hand out.

Ariel, without hesitation, took it and shook. He didn't have a very strong grip. In fact, it was downright girly.

But I guess it kind of went with everything else about him.

"Stiles," I offered, smiling. Or at least, I think I was smiling. For all I know, and with my luck, I could have been scowling at him.

"Ariel."

"I know."

Stupid.

"Ok…"

"I mean, I found out."

Worse.

His eyes narrowed and he began to nod slowly. Smile not dissipating.

My palms were starting to sweat. I thought that was weird. I didn't have any reason to be nervous. I wasn't nervous. At least, I don't think I was…

I wasn't.

Why would I have been? The only time I got nervous was around pretty girls or Derek. And no, before you ask, they were not for the same reason.

Derek, while I'm sure is seen as attractive by many teen girls the world over, scared me. I wasn't attracted to him. He was just, nerve-wracking.

Wiping my clammy palms on my jeans, I swallowed.

"I didn't know you're name earlier, so I asked my friend. He told me."

"I understood what you meant." The laugh again. I've never been so jealous of someone's vocal patterns before in my life.

"Sorry about the whole girl thing," I added, hoping I hadn't offended him. Much.

He waved me off. "Yeah, yeah its fine. I get it a lot."

For some reason, that bothered me. No guy, gay or not, should get called a girl so much that they become accustomed to it. It was… awkward.

So I said the first thing I thought of, hoping it would be of comfort. Not that he looked upset or anything. So I don't really know why I felt the need to say it... but I did.

"It's probably just 'cause you're like, really pretty."

His eyes widened. My face felt like it was on fire.

He opened his mouth to say something when…

"Ariel, babe. You coming?"

We both looked over to see Danny making his way to us.

"Yeah, I'm coming now." He turned to me with a soft smile. "Bye, Stiles."

I wanted to say something. I wanted to say bye back. But MAN, talk about a dry mouth. I could barely breathe, let alone speak. So I settled for a pathetic wave.

And I kept waving, even after he turned and walked off.

I stood there waving so long that Danny shot me a look of utter confusion.

Jackson just glared.

And I just waved.

So... this is, i know, not a very epic start. But the idea just came to me, and i liked it. So before it was gone, i had to do something. I'll plan it out more, but this is just so i have something to build from. So, let me know how it was. OHHHH and i based Ariel off of a real person, looks wise. If you want to know what he looks like, his name is Willy Cartier. Google him. For now, focus on clean shaven pics.