entitled: don't you dare leave me behind
summary: Stiles is leaving for college. Lydia can't let him go without telling him how she truly feels. au
pairing: stiles/lydia (of course), mentions of scott/allison
rating: t
disclaimer: I do not own TW.
notes: Of course, loosely based on the Ross and Rachel scene in the Friends finale. Enjoy.
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Two years.
Two stinking years of being the world's biggest moron.
Sure, yeah, she had known. It was pretty damn obvious that that big adorable geek had been in love with her. To tell the truth, she had enjoyed having him worship the very ground she walked on. She got so used to the fact that when he suddenly stopped, it was very difficult not to notice.
Stiles Stilinski was her friend, her very dear friend. He had a huge future ahead of him and she wanted him to be happy.
But...
Maybe it was the fact that he was now leaving that was causing her to think like this. Stiles had gotten into a great law school in New York, studying criminal law. He had often told her that he wanted to be like his father and solve cases but he wanted to take it to next step. Lydia knew that meant the FBI.
Well that scared the hell out of her.
But this was Stiles. Sheesh, with all the trouble that he got into while they were growing up, it wasn't much of a surprise.
They had overcome one of their biggest hurdles last year when Stiles had been tested for the same disease that had taken his mother so many years ago. They had learned that he could be a carrier or even a recipient and the fact that by the age of thirty, his mind could slowly start to break down was terrifying enough.
Good news came and Stiles was declared free of the disease.
But the worst came six months ago.
A horrible car wreck took Papa Stilinski from all of them. John Stilinski wasn't just Stiles' father, he was everybody's father. He took care of each and every one of them when he was needed, even just to lend an ear.
Lydia would never get that picture out of her mind, that picture of Stiles' face when he learned that his dad, his friend, his protector was gone and never coming home.
She guesses that this is why Stiles is moving so quickly with his life now.
"Lydia?"
The redhead comes out of her trance to find her friend gazing intently at her.
"Yeah?"
"Stiles is leaving. Come say goodbye."
But she didn't want to say goodbye. She wanted to hole herself up here in this room and refuse to come out because maybe if she didn't say goodbye to him, he wouldn't leave.
Allison's hand gently clasps hers, pulling her out of the living room towards the front hall. As they reach the hallway, the sound of the front door slamming shut greets their ears and the sight of a confused Scott reaches their eyes.
"Where's Stiles?" Allison asks, her eyebrows rising.
"Uh, he left. He said he wanted to get out of here and get to the airport early," Scott says, glancing at Lydia.
"He left without saying goodbye to Lyd-?" Allison cuts herself off.
"I'm sorry, Lyd," Scott says, turning apologetic eyes towards her.
Lydia shakes her head, swallowing deeply against the hurt that is rising in her throat.
"No matter. He didn't want to say goodbye to me so I don't want to say goodbye to him. He can fall off a cliff for all I care," she replies scathingly, turning on her heel and stomping back into the kitchen.
As she reaches the tiny kitchen, anger is already rising. She goes to the fridge and begins to pull out several vegetables, throwing them violently onto the counter. She yanks a knife out of the one of the drawers and begins to chop, banging away at cutting board with such aggression that it nearly flies out of her grasp.
She can feel Scott and Allison's eyes on her from the doorway and fights to ignore it.
"Lydia?" Allison begins carefully. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Allison," she snaps. "I just want to get dinner started, ok?"
"Lydia-?" Scott's gentle hands rests on hers, bringing her chopping to a standstill. "Before we wind up with the Mount Everest of vegetables here, maybe you should go after Stiles."
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because you are going to cut right through a very expensive cutting board," Allison says. When Lydia turns, she sees the tiniest of smiles beginning to curl her mouth up. "And because it's obvious how you feel. Go after him."
Lydia glances back and forth between her two friends, seeing mirrored gazes on their faces.
And all resolve breaks.
Four years ago, Lydia Martin would have blown both of them off and let her stubborn pride win.
This Lydia won't.
"Okay."
She's shocked she doesn't get a speeding ticket for her crazy driving.
"Stiles! Stiles Stilinski!"
She has about 150 people staring at her but she just doesn't care. Here she is, Lydia Martin, about five feet nothing, jumping up and down on three inch heels and waving her arms like a complete lunatic trying to get the attention of the man that is just about to board the stupid airplane. Never in a million years did she think she'd end up here.
But she is.
The man is now being nudged by the person behind him and he turns, his whiskey eyes widening in surprise when he sees her. He immediately loses his place in line and falls out, shifting around the throng of people towards her.
"Lydia, what the hell are you doing here?" Stiles asks as he approaches her. One hand shifts his carry on bag back over his shoulder.
"I -" Her voice catches in her throat for a brief moment. "I don't get a goodbye?!" she suddenly bursts out. "You are leaving the state, going across the country for god knows how long and I don't get a goodbye?!"
Those whiskey eyes that she had slowly fallen for over the last four years narrow and then soften.
"Lydia -"
"What do I have to do to get a goodbye, Stiles?" And then it all just comes pouring out. "Do I have to tell you how I feel? Do I? Because I will. I love you, you big jerk!"
And those eyes begin to moisten.
Stiles then shakes his head, giving her a soft expression that sure looks a lot like pity. He opens his mouth to speak again but Lydia cuts him off.
"I know I shouldn't have waited until now to tell you," Lydia says, feeling hot tears starting to build behind her eyes. "I know, that was stupid but I was scared. I was freaking terrified because a person as perfect and beautiful as you does not love a person like me." She swallows then, fighting back more tears as they begin to spill down her cheeks.
Stiles swipes a hand across his eyes, taking in a deep breath that can be heard across the now empty lobby.
"I do not deserve you," Lydia whispers, fighting a sob. "But I am asking you to give me one last chance. Please." Another sob. "Don't get on this plane."
She had only seen Stiles cry twice in all the years she had known him. Once when his mother died and second when his father died. She knows Scott has seen more but she had never had the desire to witness any kind of emotion from anyone. It wasn't how she was built. She wasn't the comforting person, never had been and never would be.
But to see those tears in his eyes and the utter exhaustion in that beautiful face, she could feel a monster roaring away in her belly. She didn't want to be the one that made him look like that.
When he shakes his head, her heart drops.
"I'm sorry, Lydia."
"Stiles…"
He shakes his head again, his hand raising and then dropping, almost like he had wanted to touch her face, to wipe away her tears.
"I can't do this," he murmurs. "I can't."
He readjusts his bag strap, his fingers gripping it so tightly that his knuckles are white. Those whiskey eyes focus on her once again and she can see he is fighting the devastation that she knows he has felt ever since his father died.
"You can't do this, Lydia," he says softly. "You can't show up here and start saying these things. I am finally moving on with my life and getting away from the bad memories that are here in Beacon Hills."
"We can make new memories," Lydia pleads, reaching out a hand for his.
When he pulls his away, that's when she knows.
"I can't," he breathes. "I'm sorry."
She stands at the large bay window, watching as the plane begins it's ascent down the runway.
Her phone vibrates. She pulls it out, not even paying any attention to who it is.
"Lydia?"
At the sound of her friend's voice, her tears come back.
"Allison," she chokes.
"Oh, Lydia…" Allison's voice is so gentle and Lydia knows she doesn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve sympathy or pity.
She blew it.
"He got on the plane, Allison," Lydia cries softly. "He got on the plane anyway…"
"...Lydia, I am so, so sorry. What happened?"
"I told him everything. I told him how I felt but he shut right down and told me he couldn't do this. Not that I blame him, especially with the way that I treated him in the past. How could I not see it-?" she says, turning away from the window just as the plane takes off.
And sees Stiles standing about twenty feet away.
Her phone slips closed, falling from her fingers and landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
"Stiles…"
He looks more confused than she had ever seen him before but there is something else. Something else in those amazing whiskey eyes that she wants to know better.
His bag drops from his shoulder, falling to the floor with a louder thud, his arms casting out almost like he was beckoning her to come to him.
"I got on the plane and sat down. And then the guy next to me turned to me and said that I was the biggest idiot he had ever seen," he says, swallowing heavily. "And I said 'you're right'."
Lydia runs a palm over her eyes, forcing back those fresh tears that are welling up. God, she hates crying.
"And that's all it took for you to get off the plane?" she asks.
Stiles nods. "Yeah."
"Stiles –"
"No, I need you to let me talk for a second," he interrupts, holding up a long fingered hand. Lydia falls silent. He slowly begins to walk towards her, his bag forgotten on the floor. "You have no idea how long I have waited for you to say those words to me. For thirteen years, I wanted you to feel the same way but – I knew that I had to move on. So I did."
Lydia nods, her teeth beginning to gnaw at her bottom lip.
"Everything that has happened in these last months, getting tested for what my mom died from, losing my dad –" He stops then, reaching out a hand that quivers in mid air for several seconds.
"I miss my dad an awful lot, Lydia."
Lydia smiles, her fingers gently taking his. "I know."
"And -, I want this to work. But you have to promise me something."
"Anything."
"That it will only be me," Stiles then says. "I know that may sound selfish but I need it to only be me. I will not only be just a piece. I –"
"You're worth more than that, Stiles," Lydia says. "You are worth so much more than that."
"And I am in this for the long haul."
"Stiles Stilinski, if you don't kiss me right now, I swear to God –"
And he's kissing her like there's no tomorrow.
Two months later…
"Lydia, you got some mail."
In the last weeks, moving across country had been a pain in high end. But it was worth it.
They had found a small and shabby apartment that with both their incomes combined they could still barely afford. The apartment was right in the middle of the city, with one bedroom, one tiny bathroom that they would both fight over every single day, a kitchenette and a large wide living room that was now decked out in overstuffed furniture. It took some work and it gave Lydia something to do while Stiles was at classes. She was okay with that because they were there together.
That was all that mattered.
Lydia looks up from the book that is in her lap to what Stiles is holding in his hand. She sees her mother's script on an envelope and then one thick sturdy brown envelope that sure looks a hell of a lot like a…
"Oh my god!" she snatches the envelope out of his hand so quickly that Stiles lets out a yell.
"So many papercuts!" he moans as he waves his hands.
Lydia ignores him as she rips open the envelope, her green eyes darting back and forth so quickly that they look like they are on fast forward. The happy scream that she lets out could be heard in Texas and then she's leaping into his arms and knocking him backwards onto the sofa.
In a rush, Lydia explains that she had applied to a bunch of colleges but she had only wanted one that was a thirty minute train ride into Connecticut. It was an amazing school with a perfect mathematics program. And she got in.
And soon, the apartment is filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and the crack of a cork being pulled out of a bottle of champagne.
All was good. All was perfect.
Life was damn wonderful.
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I know this seems like a mediocre ending but that was how I wanted to wrap it up. Lots of angst leading up to the short and sweet ending of Stydia living happily in NYC with their whole lives ahead of them.