Stiles' POV
She saved me. I don't know how she did it but she did. She saved me, and if she hadn't showed up I don't know what I would have done. This was a particularly bad one, the attack. Normally I would have been able to talk myself down but, this time was different. It was…. Scary. Insanely scary, terrifying even. But she was there. Lydia was there, with me, it was real. She really had been there, it wasn't some crazy dream or made up fantasy.
"You okay?" she whispered, snapping me out of my little inner monologue.
"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. " I said, a little too fast, a little too rehearsed.
"Stiles I… you don't have to do that. Not here, not with me. You can tell me, like really tell me. Are you okay?"
Shit. I could literally feel her knocking down my wall that had kept so many others out for so long. I could feel her taking it apart, brick by brick.
"I don't know." I whispered finally, barely loud enough for her to hear. My head suddenly felt heavy and I let my chin drop to my chest. I felt her arms slowly wrap around me as she pulled me in for a hug. It wasn't a hug like she gave her friends after not seeing them from after school Tuesday until school started Wednesday morning, it was different, it felt different. It felt good. I put my chin on her shoulder, closed my eyes, and breathed her in. Vanilla. She smelled like vanilla, and I loved it. Mom used to have vanilla scented candles all over the house. Lydia smelled like home. Lydia made me feel… safe.
"Why don't I swing by after school? Movies and pizza sound okay?" she said as she pulled away.
"Will you? I just, I don't know, I just don't really want to be alone right now."
She cupped my cheek in her hand, and I melted into her touch.
"Stiles, you're not alone. You're never alone. I'm here. Okay?"
"Okay. And Lydia, thanks for, uh…"
"It's alright. I know." She smiled, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. The bell rang, signaling the end of 8th period, and we both grabbed our backpacks and headed back out into the harsh reality that was high school.
Lydia's POV
"Okay, The Avengers or 21 Jump Street?" I asked as I held up both DVDs.
"Are you kidding me? Avengers, every time. No question." Stiles said matter-of-factly. His untamed brown hair spiked in all different directions, making him look like he just rolled out of bed. Typical.
"Fine, Avengers it is. Want another slice?" I asked as I reached for my second slice of sausage pizza.
"Yeah, toss me two, would you?" I handed him the pizza and then popped the DVD into his laptop. We sat on his bed, our backs up against his backboard and our shoulders barely touching. Throughout the movie, Stiles made comments about pretty much everything. He would ask me if I noticed small details and important pieces of dialogue, which obviously I did, but I played along in this little game just to humor Stiles. About ¾ of the way in, I noticed the comments had ceased. Next to me, Stiles was asleep, his head dropped to the side, almost touching my shoulder. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck. I went to lower the volume a bit, when Stiles stirred slightly, still deeply asleep. The full weight of his head was now resting on my shoulder, and I smiled because he just seemed so… peaceful. Nothing like the Stiles earlier, all jumpy and shaky. He was still, his breathing slow and steady. Calm. Sure. Safe.
Stiles' POV
You know when you're dreaming, and you can feel yourself falling, but there's nothing you can do about it? Yeah, that feeling blows ass. Now, I knew I was falling, I could feel it, but I also knew it was only a dream. Normally, you'd wake up before you hit the ground.
Not me.
I hit the ground. Hard.
I jolted awake, covered in cold sweat and unable to catch my breath. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. It played over and over in my head, as if I was reassuring myself that everything was actually fine and it was just my brain playing tricks on me.
I sat upright, and it took me a second to realize where I was, and that she was still here. In my bed. (Holy shit. Lydia Martin is in my bed? )
"Stiles?" I heard her whisper. Her arm snaked up my back, and she threaded her hand through my hair, which was plastered against my neck with sweat. Her free hand stroked my arm, her cool hands tracing the veins. I immediately felt myself relax at her touch, and I think she felt it too because she smiled knowingly at me and told me that it was just a dream, that it wasn't real. But it felt all too real to me. Breathing suddenly felt more labored as I thought about the dream, the hopelessness, and the darkness that surrounded me. I felt like my throat was closing, I couldn't inhale enough.
"Stiles, hey, everything is going to be okay. You're safe here, with me, you're safe. It's okay. Try and relax okay?" I nodded, but couldn't say anything back. I didn't trust myself to say anything without my voice breaking. She pulled me with her as she laid back down in my bed.
"Lydia?" I whispered.
"Yeah Stiles?"
"How come you're… I mean… why did you-"
"Why did I stay?"
I nodded.
"Well if you must know, this isn't exactly what I thought was going to happen. Far from it, actually. After the movie ended, you were already asleep, so I tried to take off without waking you up. But then you started, like, mumbling. I couldn't make it out at first, but finally I understood. Over and over, the same thing. 'Don't let them in'. After that you balled up your fists so hard I thought you might break skin. Your breathing got really unsteady and it sounded like you couldn't take in enough. So I stayed. I couldn't just leave you like that, all alone."
We stayed silent for a beat, but it was a comfortable silence, not filled with meaningless words or awkward, half-hearted laughs. Then she spoke up.
"Do you, uh… do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. "No, no not really. I just… I can't. I can't."
"Okay, it's okay, I understand."
Just then I realized that my hands were shaking, trembling violently and I couldn't make it stop no matter what I did. She noticed it too.
"Give me your hand." She said calmly as she held out her hand, waiting for me to place mine in it.
"What?"
"Give me your hand." She repeated.
I slowly lifted my unsteady hand and put it in hers. She turned it over so that she was looking at my palm. Very softly, she ran two fingers down my thumb. She ran them across the bottom of my hand, and back up my pinky. My eyes fluttered shut at her careful touch. She looped down across my palm and up my pointer finger, then finally up my middle finger. Then her fingers trailed vertically across my palm, onto the top of my wrist.
"What are these?" She asked softly, her fingers tracing the horizontal scars that lined my wrist. My eyes shot open and I ripped my hand away, shoving them underneath the covers.
"They're nothing, sorry." I said too quickly.
"Stiles. Let me see. It's alright, I promise."
I gave my hand back to her, and her fingers found the scars once again.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked.
"Because they're disgusting."
She traced them, ran her fingers across each and every one of my scars, and I watched cautiously as she did so.
"Battle scars." She said softly.
"Huh?"
"They're not disgusting, they're battle scars. They're proof that you fought, that you were brave. They're proof that you were a soldier, a warrior, a gladiator. And the fact that you're sitting here right now is proof that you won. You won, Stiles. You're here and you won. And that's all that matters, that you're here with me. I'm so proud of you for being here with me."
She lifted my hand up to her mouth and placed the softest kiss I've ever felt on the top of my knuckles. I didn't know it until now, but the words that just came out of Lydia Martin's mouth were exactly what I needed to hear right now. They're what I've always needed to hear; I just never realized that before.
"Lydia?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"Saving me."
"I'm here for you Stiles, always."
"Always?"
"Always."
And with that, she snuggled closer to me, her head on my shoulder, her arm wrapped protectively around my waist. Her hair smelled nice, like vanilla.
Like home.