His comforter embodied the essence of the word. Lydia sighed contently. A lot of guys didn't care about the importance of what a good bedspread could do. Maybe he got a new one, in desperation. Maybe he looked it up online, like she had when she couldn't fall asleep anymore. Lydia blinked, staring up at the stucco ceiling. Well, when she was too scared to fall asleep. She could admit that now.
Or maybe Stiles always thought for comfort. He embodied all the characteristics himself. Lydia could admit that, too. She placed her palm face down on the material, it almost mimicked the way his sweaters felt to the pads of her fingers. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away memories of a weak little girl clinging to a guy for comfort.
"Son of ahh.." A mutter erupted from the opposite side of the room like a blessing. Breaking the stillness and reminded Lydia that she wasn't so alone and she wasn't all that weak.
Lydia turned her head, seeing Stiles pluck a thumbtack from his finger. He then gingerly stuck it in his mouth. She rolled her eyes and shifted to get more comfortable. She could fall asleep right there, with the warm October air wafting through the window and Stiles Stilinski humming to himself while reevaluating all the happenings of Beacon Hills. Mischief Night be damned. Every day was Halloween now.
Stiles busied himself by taping a print out of Barrow on his evidence board. Lydia rolled over onto her stomach, wanting to be of use. She felt pathetic, and Lydia was not the feeling-pathetic-type. She stared at the wall, it was filled with scattered pictures and string. She eyed the bundles of yarn to her side and scooped up a red piece that Stiles cut off and forgot moments ago.
"What does red mean? ... You only have red on the board."
She wasn't helping. She could see the frustration in Stiles' eyes. They were dark, and tired and she debated for a second if he still wasn't sleeping. She coiled the string around her hands, amusing herself, so she wouldn't keep rambling nonsense. She just wanted to help. She was so close to figuring this all out.
"Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?" She wondered. Her pathetic guilt brimming.
"Every day this week." He turned back to her, reassurance on his tongue.
Lydia didn't want reassurance. She knew she was smart. But she had been battling this... thing inside her for so long, she feared that she may have screwed it up. Stunted the growth or whatever. Maybe repressing her... nature was counteracting any ability she might have had.
What Scott and Isaac, even Ethan and Aiden could do was save people. They could curb any animalistic urges and do what was right. Lydia couldn't even find the source of that stupid buzzing sound she could still hear, like white noise inside her head.
"We were on to something."
"Even though we couldn't find any proof...?"
He caught it when he turned to her. Lydia tried to look away, not to start a pity party. But words just kept bubbling up and Lydia was always selfish enough to want to be told it was okay. Even if she didn't know what okay meant anymore. He saw her fears before she could mask them with a pretty smile.
"Hey, Lydia." Stiles' voice dropped and that smoldering gentleness took over his own frustration.
He walked over to her, knelt right in front of her face. They were just inches apart. She could see every golden ring in his eyes and he could see all her secret doubt. She tightened the string around her finger, remind her how real this all was.
"You've been right every time this has happened. So don't start doubting yourself now."
"No scent.. no bomb..." She looked away, "I got you in trouble."
Stiles grabbed her string tied hand. He let his long, calloused fingers skim over her smooth skin. His hands were warm and cold all at once. There was a tightness to his jaw that only happened when he was thinking really hard.
"Okay. Barrow was there. You felt it."
His fingers became more sure, as they cupped her smaller hand. He began to unravel the string from her index finger, not meeting her gaze. But he didn't need to. Lydia felt his words. Soft and sure, bathing her in that reassurance she didn't want.
She stared, mesmerized. This was the same boy who couldn't walk and talk simultaneously in her presence a year ago. And here they were now, sitting close together in his room. Lydia listening as Stiles told her how amazing she was.
"And if you wanted to, I'd go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it."
Stiles successfully removed the string, tossing it on top of the rest of the unused pile. He smiled at her, and Lydia was speechless.
So this was their thing now. Sparring in a way she never had before. They fought over who was smarter, who knew more, who could do more. Lydia told Stiles exactly what he needed to hear when things seemed to crash around them. And Stiles kept her from getting lost inside her head. He opened her eyes at that silly winter formal, telling her it was okay to be smart. And here he was now, almost a year later, doing the exact same thing.
He crept his way into every safe space in her life. She was saturated in his looks and quips. There was no longer an invisible barrier, a silly thought up divergence that kept them in different leagues or pointless high school stereotypes. They were the same, and that made Lydia Martin proud. They were both changing, and she knew they were changing together.
He kept fiddling with that marker. His little nervous ticks always finding their way through. Lydia noticed his eyes darken, and his brows inch together. He was getting an idea.
It wasn't ever just a light bulb with Stiles Stilinski, it was always an explosion.
He forced her up, their tender moment over. Lydia wanted to laugh at how natural it all was as she trailed behind him down the stairs, to his car.
Lydia felt light, like she was floating on a high no drug could ever supply. It was like a jolt of electricity humming in her veins, circling her heart. As if she, not Kira, absorbed all the town's power. Like no matter what happened, things would be okay.
Now she understood why Scott did the right thing, why Stiles always tried to save her. It was incredible. The sensation gave her a comfort stronger than the softest sheets, and as Lydia stared at her friends, who sat to her left, not even the intensity of being in Sheriff Stilinski's office could sedate her happiness.
She saved Kira. She. Saved. Someone. She was finally doing it right.
So that was the first thing she was going to tell Aiden when she saw him, she decided, while throwing back three cups of coffee to make it to school on time. She would've stayed home, actually wanted to, – which was odd, since being alone wasn't her strong suit for a while there– but it was her mother's first day at Beacon Hills High, since she left education years back. The smile on Mrs. Martin's face when Lydia dragged herself out of bed was too sweet to pass up.
Lydia tapped her fingertips against her locker's door at the end of the school day. Kids were running around, the halls dimmer, the mood brighter. It was amazing what a little blackout could do. She was in the middle of wondering how much trouble she'd be in if she didn't do her mother's assigned homework, and listened as Coach Finstock yelled up and down the hall for them to 'get the hell out'; when out of the corner of her eye she saw Stiles at his own locker.
She hadn't seen him all day. He hadn't said a word to her, or tried to seek her out. It wasn't the end of the world, but it was unusual. She wanted to tell him about Aiden, and how she finally ended it. She wanted that pride to shine in his eyes, which was silly when she thought about it. She wanted him to know she listened to what he said to her, that she was a good guy and didn't need to tarnish herself. Even if her friends – with the exception of Stiles, for a while – never really judged her for it, abused the situation, but never made her choose.
Stiles was busy gawking at his key chain when Lydia finally walked over. He smiled up at her for a second before digging the keys into his pocket.
"Hey, did you hear about Danny's party?" He wanted to know.
Lydia nodded. "Yeah, Ethan and Aiden helped him find a place."
Stiles scoffed. "You'll never guess where." Lydia rose a brow, pursing her lips.
"Derek's." He moved his own eyebrows around, trying to convey what a bad idea that was, and strung his backpack across his shoulders.
"You gonna go?" He asked a bit softer.
Lydia rubbed her lips together in thought. She hadn't had the best luck with parties in a while. She hadn't had the best luck in a while, but she was feeling optimistic. It was Halloween, and she just saved someone.
Lydia went to speak, say they should go together, when Coach stomped up to them.
"Did you not hear me, Stilinski?" He pondered.
"Can you not make googly eyes anywhere else?" Coach's voice was grating with the mega phone. A few kids turned around to snicker.
He walked away a moment later, yelling at Greenberg. Stiles rolled his eyes. He was completely desensitized to the chronic ramblings of the only long standing teacher in school. It had Lydia laughing.
She pulled some hair behind her ear and gazed back up at him, but Stiles wasn't looking at Lydia anymore. She turned to see what caught his attention, and saw Scott motioning for Stiles, Kira at his side. The boy beside her sighed dramatically and looped his fingers through his bag's straps.
"I'll see you there?" He asked while walking backwards away from her. Lydia could only nod, feeling just slightly disappointed.
The bass was loud. Louder than her thoughts, louder than the obvious chatter surrounding her. Lydia was getting a headache. Once being the most popular girl in Beacon Hills, with the most popular, connected boyfriend, Lydia had been to a few parties in her day. None were like this, and she would leave the credit to Danny for being most creative.
The strobe lights and neon colors were blurring her vision. She made the mistake of getting lost in the sea of sweaty, shirtless bodies once, and she refused to stay anywhere but glued to the wall. Lydia Martin was now a wallflower. Hell must have froze over. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
She was looking for a familiar face, but it was harder than she imagined to see past all the glowing paint. If she was being honest, Lydia was looking for Stiles. She was here because he said he'd be. It wasn't like anyone else was begging her to show. Lydia rested her hip against a cool concrete beam, one near the large, plated window wall and observed.
Aiden found her. He came to bother her, technically. Throwing half thought out jokes in her face, his misguided try at flirting. She was serious earlier in school. She needed to start acting like a hero, and no matter how interesting it seemed in books, romanticizing the bad boy only ever left Lydia jaded. It happened with Jackson, and she wasn't going to be that girl again.
After she walked away from Aiden, and after she spotted Stiles, a neon-bright girl draped over him like a second skin, Lydia felt the familiar current rush through her. Like the tide was coming in, and taking the present away. Something bad was about to happen. She sensed it. Though it was too loud to hear anything, especially her own thoughts, Lydia felt the frustrating sensation prickle her skin, and it had her screaming for Scott.
That was the last thing she remembered. She woke up in her bed around noon, shivering and shaking. That high she felt a night ago crashed down, evaporating like evil demons into the shadows.
"Good, you're up." Mrs. Martin sighed, setting down the cup of steaming tea and a small blue thermometer. She came to sit at Lydia's side. "Lydia, were you drinking last night?"
Lydia groaned. "No." She muttered, her throat dry, but if she was remembering correctly, she couldn't even get out one scream.
"Jackson's friend Danny brought you home, saying you passed out. Did you eat yesterday?" Lydia nodded against her mother's warm hand as it cupped her face.
"Sweetheart, you're freezing." She quickly pulled the mug towards Lydia, helping her sit up, and encouraged her to drink.
Lydia let her head rest back against the pillow. "I'm just tired. I've been stressed these past few weeks. It's all probably getting to me, mom." She insisted.
Mrs. Martin frowned. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me." She kissed her daughters forehead and left the room.
Lydia heard her mother's footsteps on the stairs, and knew it was safe to stop holding her breath. But even after she started to breathe normally, she couldn't shake the feeling that coated her. It was sticky on her skin and icy in her veins. Lydia couldn't explain it, she wished she could.
At the black light party, she knew something was wrong. She knew something bad was going to happen. And Lydia didn't understand how she could think she'd be immune to it. Wasn't she the same girl who had her mind controlled by a prima donna werewolf only months prior?
But she left herself vulnerable, and stupidly alone. And now she couldn't stop the chill that wracked through her body every so often and she couldn't stop rubbing the tender spot behind her ear.
She looked around the bed for her phone, coming up short, hands bunched around soft sheets. Lydia rolled over onto her side. Two days ago she was miserable and feeling useless, a day ago she was feeling free. And right at that moment Lydia was feeling lost.
A buzzing noise filled her ears. Lydia's stomach dropped, remembering when she couldn't get the sound out of her head. But it wasn't the unconsciousness of her mind struggling between bugs and light bulbs, but her cell phone, on the carpet next to her bed. Scooping it up, Lydia saw message after message. Allison giving her the gossip.
Everyone was okay, just confused and now, more than ever, united. The only name that didn't seem to cross her screen was Stiles'. Lydia wondered how he made out with the random. If their night was cut short because cloaked demon shadow.. things crashed the party.
Neither Allison or Scott said Stiles was hurt, and Lydia wasn't sure if it was a banshee thing, or a woman's intuition thing her mom sometimes talked about, but Lydia had the strange feeling that he wasn't okay. That he needed her.
It was something she couldn't shake.