Disclaimer: Still not mine. You'd think I would know if I had access to Dylan O'Brien in actuality and not just through my computer screen.
"ALLISON."
Her own scream shook her to the bone, she could feel it rattling in her. It was like a bungee chord had been cut in her and she was falling, falling through an eternal abyss of darkness with that goddamned scream ricocheting in her head. Unable to keep in her heaving sobs, her body instinctively leaned towards a source of comfort, towards that one person- despite recent events- who could make her feel safe. She wanted to be out there, trying to find some way to save Allison (even though the banshee in her told her it was in vain). But another part of her wanted to stay, to look over the unconscious body which was a mere shell of the boy she had grown to love, to at least keep him safe when she could not do anything else.
She hated feeling helpless but that is what she's been feeling ever since Peter Hale showed his ugly face in her life.
"FUCK."
He hit the steering wheel again and again, until his palms ached and grew cherry red. With a strangled yell of frustration, he slumped back into his seat, feeling more drained than ever. Releasing a short breath and running a hand through his hair, he tried to not let his failure get to him; tried to clear his mind and start again. He needed to find her.
Lydia had been missing for two weeks, two entire weeks. Once the nogitsune was dead, she had vanished the next day. No note, no text, no whisper. Nothing but a trail of dust in her wake.
Stiles was going out of his mind with worry. That girl had always been his weak point and she would forever be that.
Once again, he propped his laptop open at the passenger seat and let the already typed Web address load. Biting at his lower lip, his fingers hovered above the keys. He knew her ID- if only he could figure out her password, he would be able to track her phone and find her. He hoped her phone hadn't died because that would mean another idea gone down the drain and he already felt like he was grasping at straws.
Scott had tried to track her scent but they had not gone further than a seedy bar at the edge of town. The only smell that drifted out was of strong alcohol. It made Stiles sick to think that Lydia was in such close quarters to the crowd that came here. But hey it was a start. She had to have gone somewhere further from there, not back.
His fingers started moving without his mind registering the fact. One word, five letters. Tulip.
He did not know why that word stood out so much in his mind, that he had subconsciously assumed it would the password he had been struggling to find for so long. But all he could think of how little Lydia back in third grade used to spend their recess drawing tulips of the brightest red instead of playing outside. And how he had shyly offered her one, which his amused mother had bought him on the way to school, and how her face had light up looking at it and realizing the fact that someone had noticed.
And lo and behold. It logged him in.
He resisted the urge to let out a whoop of celebration. Working fast, he activated the GPS.
Five tortuous seconds passed.
Ding.
"Bingo," he muttered softly, zooming into the map.
She was only 10 minutes away.
Making sure no one else was in the corridor, Stiles swiped out his Swiss army knife. Thank god the guy at the reception was feeling generous enough to tell him the room number. He must have been in a good mood.
He was in a cheap motel- the lord bless technology for leading him there. Though it reminded him a bit too much of The Glen Capri and he resisted the urge to run out screaming. Yup, he was scared of motels, not the most normal thing in one's list of phobias.
He had been knocking for what felt like five hours than five minutes. Throwing caution to the winds- for all he knew Lydia might come flying towards him with a frying pan to beat him up with- he slipped in the pick and fiddled around until he heard the click and the door swung open before him.
Immediately he spotted a figure lounging in the couch by the bed. Shutting the door behind him softly, he took a couple of hesitant steps towards it. "Lydia?"
Her head swivelled around, the movement groggy. Her eyes were clouded over but the widest, goofiest smile he had ever seen suddenly appeared on her face. "Jackson!"
He stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily stunned.
His lack of response didn't faze her. "Jackson, you came back. I knew you would. I knew it."
He looked at her sadly,his heart breaking for her. She had lost so many people and this was the happiness she would feel if any of them came back. "You're wasted."
She didn't seem to have heard him. "Jackson, Jackson, Jackson," she chanted the name like a mantra, like a little child who had learned a new word, like a woman clinging to her last connection to the world to prevent the descend into insanity. "I knew you'd come back." She looked so pleased to be right.
Stiles sank into the sofa next to her, sighing softly at the sight of the beer bottles that littered the floor, each absolutely empty of their contents, each glinting under the lights. "Why did you do this Lyds?"
She kicked away a stray bottle, almost like a child would when bored. "Whenever I was sick or needed help, it was like someone magically teleported to where I was. I figured maybe this was the only way to get someone to notice that I need help because nobody saw me otherwise." She said it as if it was a matter of fact, as if she hadn't known any other reality. "Also it's like huge colourful bubbles in my head," she confided, as if expecting him to keep the secret. "It blocks out all the ugly things and only makes me see pretty ones."
"What ugly things Lyds?" Stiles asked softly.
She frowned slightly, as if sensing that what she perceived what not as it was but quickly shrug it off and continued. "Stiles fainting when I thought he had died. Allison dying. Stiles kidnapped by the nogitsune. Aiden dying. Stiles almost about to stab himself, just to save us." She turned to him now, previously having been addressing the room in general. "You leaving and never even bothering to call once."
In an alternative universe, Stiles may have felt jealous of Jackson when hearing the hurt behind the last sentence. Now he just wanted to run the were-lizard-turned-werewolf over with his own goddamn Porsche. "I'm sorry."
"You should be." She pouted. "I mean I did everything to save your life even when you treated me like shit. And after all those years of being friends and then being together, you'd think a person would call or something."
Stiles didn't want to but he felt like she had to ask, just for his own peace of mind. "Do...do you still love me?"
She seemed to thinking that over. "No not really," she replied finally and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't feel a rush of relief. "I mean I did for a while but I'm over it now. I still think of you as one of my best friends though." She gave him a wide smile which just blew him away. "And no matter what you do, I will always think of you that way."
He smiled back at her, a little sadly, a little in relief to find her in one piece and mostly in understanding. Because he understood what had been going on in that little strawberry blonde head. "C'mon Lyds. Let's get you home."
She obliged happily, accepting his offered hand and standing up but she was off balance and almost fell flat on her face, had Stiles not caught her. Any other day she would have been flustered but now she giggled like a little girl, looking up at him with shining eyes. "I'll let you in on a little secret." She gestured with her hand until his ear was right next to her chapped lips. "Remember when I said I was waiting for someone to come and help me?" After his nod of confirmation, she continued, "I was expecting Stiles to come, he's always the one who rushes in to take care of me. And even though I will never admit it to him, I'm glad that he does. I'm really glad that of all people he's the one who likes me." She had that faraway look in her eyes and was smiling to herself, as if stuck in a daydream she didn't want to end.
And, again, Stiles would be lying if he said that he didn't feel his heart fill at the sight. Just to see her happy was enough, to see her happy because of him was like he had finally done it. He had reached his goal to make Lydia Martin smile.
"And truth be told, I might be falling for him myself."
Well that line he did not expect. He did however expect the fireworks to go off in his head, just like he had imagined when he was all the way back in the third grade.
"Truth be told Lyds," he said softly, holding her up like a crutch would and slowly walking her out. "I think Stiles might be falling for you even harder than before. You really gotta stop doing that to a person."
AN:/ Just FYI, I submit this stuff to a (not so) little page called Stydia Fanfiction on Tumblr. Check 'em out, such amazing budding writers there! I'm stilinski-herondale, send me a message if ya spot me saying wattpad sent ya and I'll give you a high five back :D
Hope y'all liked it :) Review please!
Cheers!
~Lily Herondale xx