So recently I posted this on Wattpad (skittle_ninja101) and decided I'd post it on here as well.

Enjoy :)

On the Saturday afternoon Lydia Martin's mom called him, Stiles Stilinski didn't really have much to do other than stare at his bedroom walls in boredom, his phone idly resting between his thumb and index finger with a little crack running down the middle of the screen.

He was still in shock about last weeks tragic loss of Allison Argent and Aidan, not to mention that he couldn't get over the fact that he'd been possessed by a freaking nogitsune.

Shaking his head to get the gruesome memories out of his head, he stood up in his mismatched socks to go to the bathroom just as his cellphone rang.

Stiles warily picked up the small device, wondering who the person on the other end would be since none of his friends answered most of his texts or calls for the past few days. Especially Scott, who was still grieving in the comforts of his bedroom after the adrenaline of defeating the Oni had worn off.

To say that Stiles was surprised to see Lydia's name flashing across the screen was an understatement. He rubbed his eyes over and over again to make sure his vision was okay.

Sitting back down on his bed, he picked up the ringing phone and answered it with hundreds of questions running through his mind a mile a minute.

"Hello?" He answered, his voice still hoarse from lack of use.

"Stiles, is it? This is Lydia's mom."

Stiles brought the phone away from his face and stared at it in puzzlement. Why the heck would Lydia's mom call him? On Lydia's cellphone? "Uh... yeah. This is Stiles. Is every thing okay Mrs. Martin?" Stiles nervously rubbed his cheek.

"No, it's not. It's about Lydia. She won't come out of her room or eat and has become mute. I'm worried about her, and so far she won't listen to me." Lydia's mom paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. "You seem close to her. Maybe you can coax her out of her room or to at least get her to talk?" Her voice was pleading and on the brink of breaking.

Stiles didn't know how to respond to that, but he nodded before realizing Lydia's mom couldn't see him. "Of course. Sure. Yeah. I'll be right there." Then he quickly ended the call and shoved the phone in the pocket of his jeans before dashing down the stairs.

"Dad, I'm leaving the house! I'll be back later." Stiles didn't wait for a reply and jumped into his beaten up jeep, revved the engine, and shot down the street towards the house he'd memorized the route of since third grade.

Stiles stood facing the wooden door of Lydia's room, his fist a mere inches away from knocking.

He'd been standing there for approximately five minutes, contemplating on what to say. He wasn't exactly sure how to comfort Lydia. The last time he tried to uphold her spirits, he handed her a roll of toilet paper instead of a box of tissues like a normal person would. He wouldn't be surprised if she kicked him out of her room.

Stiles breathed deeply, steeling his self to open the door. He'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

He knocked softly, then rapped a little louder on the solid wood, but there was no reply. He tried the door knob and was surprised to find it open.

He stepped inside the dimly lit room and immediately zeroed in on the figure lying on the Queen sized bed.

Stiles took a few tentative steps, but the figure still didn't lift her head up and instead resumed staring into space.

"Hey, Lydia." Stiles cleared his throat loudly before edging closer to her bed. Better to announce himself beforehand rather than letting Lydia think some sort of a psychopath broke into her house and somehow happened to know her name.

"Stiles?" Lydia had finally shook herself from her thoughts and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to keep you company," Stiles replied sheepishly, sidestepping a tube of lipgloss. "Geez, don't you ever open the curtain to let some light in or at least turn on the light switch? This place is as dark as Derek's soul."

"I don't want anyone here. Go away." Lydia hugged a large stuffed animal against her chest tightly.

"Sorry, you can't have rainchecks," Stiles said with the corners of his mouth lifting up into an impish grin. He decided that it was time for himself to stop wallowing about last weeks mishaps and try to move on.

Therefore, it was his task to try to get Lydia to move on and cheer up as well.

"So, doing anything productive? You know, besides converting oxygen to carbon dioxide?" Stiles plopped down beside Lydia, noticing that she was still in her pyjamas and had her hair in a sloppy pony tail. From what he could tell, her face wasn't caked in her usual makeup. She looked even better with her natural look.

He liked it this way.

"I'm busy having a pity party, Stiles," Lydia snapped with a stinging hot glare thrown his way. "And you're not invited."

"What if I crashed that little pity party of yours?" Stiles parried, raising both his brows in amusement.

"I'd kick you out," Lydia retorted back without missing a beat, gripping the stuffed animal in her arms tighter like a lifeline.

"We both know you wouldn't do that," Stiles pointed out cheekily.

"You're right. I'd shove you out, then I'd kick you," Lydia scoffed. She raised her hand before Stiles could open his mouth. "Seriously, you're so annoying. I don't want you here."

"Not according to that kiss you planted on me last week you didn't think so," Stiles remarked casually. Although he tried hard not to, his traitorous mind flashed back to that brief moment where Lydia's glossed lips had met his.

"That was to stop your panic attack," Lydia stated matter-of-factly, shooting Stiles yet another glare that seemed to be only reserved for him. For a fleeting moment, he saw a flash of something else in her forest green eyes. Embarrassment? Shyness? Regret?

"It didn't look like that to me," Stiles persisted. He could still remember how she kept touching her lips after the kiss, how she looked more surprised rather than embarrassed. It had to have meant something, right? They had been through a lot. Granted, it was only because of battling through kanima's and alphas and evil demonic spirits with their friends, but still. They'd gotten closer in the process. "It definitely meant something."

Lydia scowled, not meeting his eyes and instead picking at her chipped nail polish. "Maybe to you. You've had these ridiculous fantasies of me and you since we met in the sandbox when we were four."

"Actually, I started crushing on you since third grade, but I thought you were hot when you were four as well, so I guess it doesn't really matter." Stiles eyes glinted. "Deny it all you want, Lydia. You liked that kiss. You-"

"Stiles."

If looks could kill, then Lydia could be a weapon of mass destruction, because Stiles immediately snapped his jaw shut. "Right," he nodded. "Shutting up now."

"Are you done keeping me company? I have things to do." Lydia stood up abruptly.

Stiles furrowed his brows. "Wha? Your not even going to let me stay longer for tea or something?"

"I don't do tea." Lydia rolled her large emerald-green eyes. "I can't even make toast without burning it."

Stiles shrugged. "It's not like you actually have things to do, Lydia. You might as well enjoy my presence."

"Your annoying, energy jittering presence?" Lydia gave him a doubtful look.

Stiles scrunched up his face. "Well, you forgot charming."

"Hardly," Lydia tossed her messy pony tail over her shoulder and begrudgingly sat down on her bed again, finally excepting that Stiles wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

They immersed into a comfortable silence after that, Lydia furiously chipping at her nails despite the fact that the paint could hardly be seen while Stiles aimlessly looked around the room.

"So... you want to, uh, talk about why you haven't been so socially active this whole week?" Stiles rubbed his neck uncomfortably, trying to get rid of all the kinks.

"Who told you that?" Lydia jerked her head up.

"Well, let's see...It's like Spider mans spidey senses. When your in distress, my "Lydia's-damseling-in-distress" senses go off."

Lydia sighed in exasperation. "My mom phoned you, didn't she?"

"That's right, Sherlock," Stiles grinned, propping a hand under his chin.

Another moment of silence filled the room, but this time containing tension.

Lydia finally paused in her mission to rid her nail polish and her expression grew unreadable. "I feel like I could've stopped it."

Stiles was seriously lost as as he searched her face - anything for a hint of emotion. Not even a freaking high tech GPS could help him.

"Both of Allison's and Aidan's death, I mean. It's like I never do anything right."

"That's not true." Those three words, stringed into one sentence, was as honest as Stiles could get. "You helped more than you think you did. Your scream from the depths of Hades warned us about Allison. Aidan too. There was nothing that you could do, or anyone else could, for that matter." Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly, suddenly feeling as if all the energy had drained right out of him. "Absolutely nothing."

Lydia looked up at him, pursing her lips. She didn't say anything, though, and Stiles struggled to continue his motivational preaching.
"Look, sometimes life sucks...like chess, because I suck at that too."

Lydia looked at him with a ghost of a smirk. "No doubt."

Stiles instantly realized what she was getting to and sucked in a breath. "That was the freaking demonic spirt possessing me, okay? I actually suck at chess."

"No, you don't. Even before that I watched you play a sometimes. You won a lot of times."

"Th- wait what?" Stiles backtracked as he opened and closed his mouth for words to come out. "You watched me play?" Was his brilliant response.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Don't make such a big deal about it."

"Me? Make a big deal about it? Never." Stiles coughed awkwardly and shifted his weight on the mattress.

"Hm." Lydia looked away, her expression growing solemnly bitter.

Stiles rolled his shoulders to relax them. "We need to accept the past, Lydia. Otherwise, we're going to have this huge load of guilt and grief weighing down us our whole life, wondering about the what if's and could have's. Playing that game is ridiculously dangerous."

Lydia fiddled a lock of her hair, biting her lip and tilting her head to the side. "What game?"

Stiles raked his fingers through his hair. "The what if game. Trust me, you'll never win."

Lydia inhaled deeply, nodding with a new found reassurance. "You're right."

"I am, aren't I?" Stiles patted her shoulder awkwardly, not knowing whether he should pull her into a hug or not without being perceived as a huge dork.

Lydia shook off his hand and scooted closer, unexpectedly clasping her arms around him tightly into an embrace and leaving him speechless.

Stiles froze in surprise before slowly reciprocating the hug. It was warm and everything he had imagined, with an intensity that had Lydia clinging to him. Her fruity shampoo wafted into his nose, a scent that oddly filled him with comfort.

"Thanks for coming, Stiles," Lydia's voice, muffled from her mouth being pressed against his sweatshirt, said. "You're like my rock, keeping me standing."

Stiles blanched. Friend zoned, he could understand. Heck, even pet zoned would be understandable. But rock zoned? What the heck was that?

He decided no to take it personally and instead held on to Lydia even tighter, relishing in the moment and knowing it wasn't going to last. It probably wouldn't even mean anything to her."So, back to that kiss. It meant something, right? You didn't exactly deny it specifically. You just sort of changed the subject like the sly fox you are. Or banshee. Whatever."

"Stiles, you just ruined the moment."

"Right, right. Forget I said that. I'll ask you again later." With that, Stiles smirked to himself. He was going to get an answer from her for sure. After all, it was obvious that the 5'3 strawberry blond banshee was crazy about him, wasn't it?

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this, lol.

Peace.