Lydia sat in a near comatose state, staring out her living room window watching as the rain droplets collected there, sliding down once they grew too heavy. She had been left alone for the first time in too long that night. She nearly forgot how silence sounded until she closed the door quietly that afternoon. Her mother was still in New York on business, and Stiles had promised her that he would come over after learning Derek Hales current location. Lydia didn't blame him for running away after Boyd's death. She wanted to run too.
Lydia stared down at her cell phone. It was nearing nine o' clock and all the days irritations seemed to sweep through her like a the wind breaking against her window. She wanted to ignore the sensitivity she always seemed to feel when thinking of Cora Hale. She walked side by side with Stiles to his jeep that afternoon like it was natural. Like she actually went to high school and like she hung out with Stiles every day. Lydia glanced down at her phone again in innocent hope. No wait. That was Lydia. She had to convince herself that she wasn't being replaced. It repeated like a mantra all the way home. It was just so easy to fall into a routine, the red head concluded shifting her legs to let her head rest gently on her knees. Stiles was too easy to fall into.
She was now facing the hall where the front door stood like a focal point at the end. She wanted to see Stiles' headlights through the frosted glass. The storm was becoming increasingly difficult to look at. It made her restless. The small beep announced that Allison would be coming over after her own research mission, Scott in tow. Good. Lydia was looking forward to the retelling of all her friends discoveries. She itched to be a part of it, but knew sometimes, not everyone had a place.
But she wanted Stiles to get there soon. His jeep wasn't the safest car on the road and with the rain and the thunder, Lydia grew tired thinking of all the sinister complications her mind wouldn't let her ignore. She just wanted him safe. The two made up the night Boyd died. She called him at an unacceptable hour crying, not realizing her mother was gone, mixing up the weeks and events easily these days. The solitude she felt was overwhelming. He stayed on the phone until she fell asleep. Lydia refused to ask him to come over, she would not be one of those girls who needed someone to take care of her. But the calm that seemed to flood through her as Stiles whispered -not to wake the sheriff on his only night off- that she was safe and everything would be alright sustained her doubts, even if she could hear his own within the kind words.
There was a loud knock on the door and Lydia jumped, eager to answer. She padded her way down the hall and stopped, realizing she practically leaped and cringed because this wasn't the first time she's rushed to Stiles' side like this; before opening the door. He stood there on her porch with a solemn look. It did something inside Lydia to see him physically shaken. She tilted her head and he obliged, it was their personal greeting for some time now. Lydia found herself relived not to see Cora Hale tagging along behind Stiles. She shut the door in haste and followed him back towards the living room.
"You never sit in here." He commented, shaking out his hair as she walked by. Lydia gave him a pointed glare, flicking a raindrop off her cheek and Stiles managed a smile.
"I wanted us to be comfortable." She shrugged, taking her previous seat. Stiles' mouth twitched but he sat next to her wordlessly. "I never complain about your bed." He teased, but it fell flat.
There was a difference in him, it was clear as day to Lydia Martin. She wanted to dive right in, bombard Stiles, milk him for all the answers he received, piece together the story for herself. But she held back and it wasn't in her nature to ever do so. Not with him anyway. It was one of the things that changed about her.
"So, did you end up finding Derek?" She asked quietly. Stiles barley shook his head. He wasn't looking at her, but down at the cream colored carpet her mother spent a fortune on.
"No. Me and Cora talked to Peter though. Complete waste of time." Stiles assured her, but his words were heavy with a different idea and his eyes were far off, farther than Lydia had ever seen.
"No. Stiles, tell me what happened. You sound.. wrong."
His eyes snapped up to meet her green ones. There was a warning in them. But Lydia Martin never backed down from a challenge. She rose a brow and cocked her head. Stiles cleared his throat and moved closer to her. A year ago that would have had Lydia jumping off the couch, but now, it had her waiting until Stiles had the courage to move that extra inch.
"Peter told us this half-assed story about how Derek fell in love when he was like our age and he killed his girlfriend."
"And you don't believe it?" Lydia asked, her voice soft.
Stiles shook his head. "I kinda do." He shrugged looking down again.
Lydia noticed Stiles constantly moving his eyes from his lap to the arm he had lounged on the top cushion of the couch. She wanted to asked, but she didn't want to shut him down. Slowly, Stiles was losing that fire that Lydia loved so much. Ever since the cross country trip there was something off. First it was the thing with Scott, and Lydia knew that she didn't help, getting herself involved with an alpha, risking her safety and now the death of another classmate. It was all crumbling around them.
"I'm here to listen when you're ready." Lydia stated, she pulled Stiles' free hand into her lap and squeezed it. He nodded, his focus finally on her. So he started the retelling of a Peter Hale original. It was beautiful and tragic and it made Lydia stop several times to actually try and fathom that the cold, begrudged Derek Hale was possible of romance. But Stiles' eyes never lightened. Not like they usually did when he unburdened himself with something so heavy.
She was about to ask but he stopped her, removing his hand in hers to rake through his hair. "Would you believe that?" Stiles inquired, looking at her like she had all the wisdom and answers. Lydia shrugged a little helplessly.
Peter locked himself inside her mind for months. He fed her lies and let his charm do most of the threatening, but there were also many truthful things he told her. Like that werewolves existed and her friends were liars. That took a lot of getting over.
"I'm sure what he told you was a variation along the lines of the truth." She felt her way through it. "I mean he isn't one to make himself look bad, right?" Stiles nodded enthusiastically.
He let his hand fall back into her lap. Lydia smiled and scooped it up. It made her feel safer, in some silly unexplainable way.
"There's something I never told you though." Stiles cleared his throat.
"When we were having heart to hearts over the summer, I left something out." He looked up, his eyes were growing warmer.
"The night you were attacked, Peter offered me the bite." If the scene couldn't be any more dramatic, Lydia heard the distant rumble of thunder looming over the town.
She didn't understand why he never said anything. Stiles was still clearly human, so what did it matter?
"The thing is, I almost let him." Stiles' voice grew soft with grief.
And that's when it hit her. Stiles' inadequacy. His constant need to be on top of things. Lydia always believed it was the over achiever in him, but it was so much more. All those secret feelings he shared with her. The fear of failure and never being good enough. Stiles had the chance to change that.
"And knowing that there isn't always a future for someone who turns.." Stiles drifted off. Lydia licked her lips and tilted her head to stare at him.
"But you already knew that, Stiles. Boyd, Erica. They turned and look where it led them. Just because you're human doesn't mean you're any less. You can't feel guilty about something like that."
She was trying, really hard actually. Stiles always seemed to feel things a lot more personally than Lydia ever could. It was one of the most sincere things about him. He was devastated because there were people who didn't survive from a bite, and she knew his thoughts were pointed at Scott. Lydia was finally thankful for werewolves. It was a funny, shocking, genuine thought. Lydia never did this. She never thought of others with so much adoration. With Jackson, she cared, she cared so much. But her love was always limited to where he would let her stray. He was difficult and even after the love she had for him brought him back to life, he kept her at a distance.
Sure, she wanted great things for him, and she thought about him every day in London. Wishing him the best, hoping he was coping. But she was never this thankful for something good to happen to someone else. Things with Stiles were changing. Lydia could admit it. Where they were going, that wasn't something she was willing to think about. And she knew he wasn't either. But Stiles having Scott in his life was probably the best thing for him, and Lydia was thankful for that. Werewolves were probably what was going to get them all killed, but werewolves brought her to Stiles and she could never hate this world that much for it.
"What? What's wrong?" Stiles asked. Lydia had missed what he said. Her thoughts bringing her closer to something she didn't want to get into.
"Nothing." She whispered, looking away. Stiles didn't push, and part of her wanted him to.
He sighed heavily. The rain was picking up. She almost missed it. She hoped Allison let Scott drive. His abilities wouldn't get them in an accident. Hopefully.
Before Lydia knew what was happening, Stiles had his hand caressing her side. His fingers brushed against her shirt so softly, she would have missed it if he hadn't started talking.
"I kept thinking of you. When Peter was talking about Paige getting attacked. It was like with you. When Peter attacked you. God Lydia, it brought back so many crappy memories." His hand left her side and so did the warm feeling inside of her.
"I'm fine Stiles." She assured him. Though she knew the scar he was trying to sooth would never leave her. It would be her personal reminder that magic did exist.
"But what if you weren't? What if you weren't immune? Would you have died just like she did?"
Lydia's eyes snapped up to meet his. Stiles' iris' were a gold with the lamps glow.
"I'd like to think I'm stronger than that." She rose a brow. Her voice low.
Stiles laughed. He broke their eye contact and looked down. "I know. I know. I'm sorry." He shook his head. Lydia frowned.
Before she could over think it, and before Stiles could look away again, Lydia has her hand resting against his cheek, it was just as soft and intimate as when he touched her waist. His surprised eyes bored into her.
"Even when I'm perfectly safe, you're still worrying about me." She smiled, her fingertips tracing his jaw. He leaned into her touch, whether or not intentionally and sighed.
"It's just because I care about you." Lydia's heart fluttered in her chest and she had to swallow it down.
"Worry about yourself sometimes, all right?" It was light like a tease, but the meaning was true.
Stiles' hand grabbed her wrist, he had to have felt her pulse jump beneath it. They were leaning in, closer. Her mind tried desperately to find something wrong with this. She thought of the story Stiles had just told her. Derek's love got somebody killed, but Lydia had seen love revive someone, and it made her move even closer. Stiles' eyes were on her lips. Would he let her kiss him? He hadn't shown any interest in her for a while now. And part of Lydia believed that that was what was drawing her in. Hard to get was such a cliché but it worked.
Neither would ever know. The front door open moments before their lips could meet and Lydia heard Allison greet them, loudly.
"Thank god it's warm in here!" She moved towards the living room. Followed by two sets of footsteps.
"You invited them?" Stiles asked, moving over a cushion. Lydia nodded, a blush tinting her cheeks.
"Hey guys!" Allison came and sat next to Lydia. Her smile was plastered but much like Stiles, her eyes were burdened with frustration.
Scott followed by Isaac walked into the room moments later. Scott had a sheepish look and Isaac stood awkwardly at his side. Lydia smiled at the two, knowing they probably heard what was about to happen.
"Isaac wanted to know what we found out too, is that alright that he's here?" Scott asked Lydia.
"I told him to call about ten times." Isaac muttered, looking down.
Lydia nodded. "Of course." She smiled kindly at Isaac. He gave her a small smile back.
"Make yourself comfortable." She stood, "anybody thirsty?" Stiles was looking down but rose a finger.
"Hey, I'll help." Allison stood too. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night." Lydia frowned. "Your grandfather wasn't very helpful?" Allison rolled her eyes. "I didn't think he would be."
Though Lydia found herself wishing she had more time alone with Stiles, she couldn't deny the relief she felt in not being alone for the night. Allison made the coffee and Lydia found some packaged cookies in the cabinet that she never remembered buying and the group sat and exchanged stories and ideas for the night.
They weren't average teenagers anymore, and Lydia didn't regret knowing werewolves. Her life had changed so much in less than a year. Going from someone who hid who they were, and being annoyed that there was actually someone who saw through it, to being proud of all she was and still having that same person liking her just the same. Through all the lies and truths and myths and facts, the five of them were no closer to figuring everything out. They still didn't know what the sacrifices were for, and they didn't know how to stop the alpha pack. Lydia was still a mystery and Derek was still missing. But it didn't seem to matter. Lydia saw Issac crack a smile, and noticed how happy Allison seemed with Scott around. She pretended not to see the looks Stiles was throwing at her and she knew he was pretending not to notice how her words were directed at him.
Lydia was definitely changing and it wasn't that unexplainable. It was the ones around her who were at fault. And Lydia liked it that way.