A/N: For the prompt: "Lydia starts becoming more and more depressed after 4x09 and tries calling the pack, but they were all busy, which leads her to breakdown. Eventually Stiles gets ahold of her and she doesn't sound like herself. The pack then races to find her."
= As of January 2019, this story is ON HOLD, and so it will be picked up once some of the on-going stories are finished. =
Chapter 1
She decides to start counting the days, the number of days that pass by without talking to anyone from the pack, and she starts counting them right after the group gets back from Mexico. It's been 26 days. She's not even sure why she started doing it; it's a destructive thought, she's well aware of that, but Lydia just can't bring herself to care.
Ever since she and Stiles had that run-in with Brunski back at Eichen House, she hasn't laid eyes on him. Funny how she considered him as her best friend and she hasn't seen him in weeks. Things were already a bit shaken between the members of the pack during the whole Deadpool ordeal but really it's no one's fault, it's life's; Lydia understands that. But ever since Allison's death, things just don't feel quite the same anymore. It's like there's a part of them missing, a void in their lives they'll never fill in again. And even if the others seem to have found their own ways to move forward, Lydia just doesn't know how to.
She doesn't even understand why Stiles being away from her bugs her so much. So maybe she has a slight crush on him - no, an infatuation is more likely. It shouldn't matter. It happens to people all the time, the feeling of being attracted to someone else, right? Hell, it had happened to her before so why does it bother her so much?
Lydia is startled by a beeping sound coming from her phone; no one has called her in weeks, so Lydia is quick to get her butt off her messy bed - her safe haven for the last few days - and get to the device. The sense of urgency that comes from longing for human contact for so long is so big that she doesn't even see who's calling, and the first thought that crosses her mind is that something bad must have happened; no one would call her otherwise.
Her voice comes out too weak, like she hasn't used it in days, and in truth she hasn't. "What happened?"
The question leaves her lips at the same time that her caller greets her with a cheerful "Hey, Lydia" closely followed by a confused "What? No, no. Nothing happened."
She takes a moment to put her heart at ease and even out her breathing because Stiles is calling her. Why is Stiles calling her? Lydia walks back to her bed and sits on the edge, her fidgety fingers finding her necklace to play with it while her other hand grips her phone as tight as she can, her eyes set on the wall in front of her. She stays silent, afraid of what to say next and not trusting her voice at all. Tears are already forming in her eyes and she feels as tired as she's ever been but she doesn't move, doesn't say a word. If afraid of what she might say or of what she might hear, she's not sure.
The boy glances at his alpha, who's sprawled on his bed lazily but paying attention to the conversation. "Lyds, are you there?"
Lydia takes a shaky, deep breath to try and calm her nerves. It does nothing. "Y- Yeah, I'm here." She clears her throat in a vain attempt of clearing her voice but she's still at a loss of words. She doesn't even know what she's supposed to say, what she wants to.
Stiles still seems oblivious to her struggles and continues enthusiastic, beaming at his best friend as if Lydia was right there. "Well, how are you? We haven't seen you in ages."
Lydia swallows, holding back her incessant need to roll her eyes and scream in frustration. When she speaks, her words could cut glass and Lydia couldn't care less about it; it's no one's fault that they're in this situation, she knows that, but it doesn't make it her fault either. She has a right to be upset. "I'm fine. Did you need something?"
The way she says it stirs something inside him and Stiles picks up on her mood immediately as her rasped words take him aback a little. Scott sits up promptly, alert too. It seems like it has been a lifetime since they last spoke. Why haven't they spoken lately? "No, not… I don't need anything. I just wanted to talk to you, I guess." Stiles scratches the back of his neck, suddenly fully aware of how he's been treating the banshee lately. No. Not treating seems to be a more accurate expression. "So hmm... Do you have a minute? Can we talk?"
Lydia has lost count by now of how many times she's thought about this moment, how eager and afraid of it she has been, that someone would actually remember that she's there, that she exists, that she's part of the pack. Is she part of the pack still? Has she ever been? Her wandering thoughts only make her feel enraged, betrayed, sick to her stomach. Doubt is clouding her better judgement. "No."
"No?" he asks, surprised. "What do you mean, no?" Something's not right and whatever is going on with Lydia is only making him more nervous. "Am I interrupting something or….?"
One tear slowly rolls down her cheek and Lydia tries her best not to give in to the crying. If she starts crying, she's not stopping anytime soon. It's how it's been lately. She worries her lower lip but a sob escapes nonetheless and then there's nothing else she can do about it.
"Lydia?" Is she crying? Stiles looks at Scott confused, alarmed, looking for confirmation on what he heard. Scott nods silently and gets up from the bed to get closer to Stiles, to the phone, listening in more attentively. She tries, Lydia really tries to contain herself but she can't and she sobs again. As soon as he realizes what's happening, Stiles grabs his car keys and starts walking out of his room, gesturing for Scott to tag along. "Lydia, are you crying? Are you okay?"
She shakes her head even if he can't see her. "I have to go," she mumbles, panicking, sure that she just heard his keys jiggling.
"Don't, Lydia. I'm coming over and-"
"Bye, Stiles."
"No, wait. Lydia-"
She ends the call and throws her phone on her comforter, scared out of her mind. She doesn't want to see him. Why would she want to see him? Didn't she want to see him? Lydia groans furiously more at herself than at the boy, tears running more quickly now. She gets up from her bed abruptly and hushes to get dressed; the sooner she gets some fresh air, the better. Ready in less than five minutes – a new personal record for the banshee – she almost runs downstairs to her car, leaving her mom a note to let her know that she'll be out until sundown. Her phone is left behind.
As she drives to her special place, a spot she found days ago and the only place besides her room where she can feel at peace in this godforsaken town, Lydia's mind drifts elsewhere. She knows, deep down, why Stiles' distance is affecting her so much. Or rather, she thinks she does. Their connection runs deep, whatever that means, and it's taken its toll on her, mostly because she's the one who's alone. Lydia swallows her thoughts with a deep, deep breath, trying to focus on her driving. It's about half an hour until she gets to her special place and she wants to get there in one piece.
From time to time she thinks of Stiles and how freaked out he must be right now but she keeps those thoughts at bay, waiting until she can finally breakdown as she does once a day now. No need of worrying about him for now anyway. He'll never find her there.
