Present Day: April 27
"I remember. Stiles, I remember everything."
Lydia kisses him softly and nudges his nose with hers, just as she had done six years before. It takes his breath away all over again.
"It was my first kiss too," she tells him, shivering as Stiles moves his hands to her waist, pulling her closer.
"It was?"
"Yeah. The first and still one of the best."
He smiles brightly at her. "Lyds, it was one of the best moments of my life. You made me so happy that day – not just because you kissed me, but because you trusted me enough to let me help you. But you know something? I never told anyone what happened between us…not even Scott."
"Really?"
"Yeah, that way I could have something that was just ours. You were that important to me –even then. I thought it could be the start of something, but we were so young… I didn't fully understand what that would be…and I couldn't even find the words to tell you. But now, I do understand, and the only words that come to mind…well, they aren't even my own, but hopefully, they'll do it justice." Stiles takes Lydia's left hand and kisses it. "Do you remember Wentworth's letter to Anne?"
"Yes," she recalls with a hint of a smile on her lips.
"In that letter, he writes something like... I give myself to you…with a heart even more your own. I have loved none but you," he paraphrases. "That's how I feel about you."
With his mouth pressed to the back of Lydia's hand, he looks up at her through his beautifully dark lashes...and he is setting her heart ablaze for him.
"I always loved those lines," she answers wistfully. Then she stirs, face reshaping with comprehension. "Wait a minute. You couldn't know that letter so well unless… Stiles, you read Persuasion!" she exclaims in a broken whisper. "When?"
He blushes, sudden wave of shyness flourishing as he kisses her hand a second time. "I may have picked up a copy at the library the next day and read it over the vacation. Then last week, after we ran into each other at Scott's house…I was thinking about you…missing you so badly, and that memory popped into my head. So, I read the book again."
Her eyes mist, and she blinks rapidly to clear her vision. "So…after the holiday, when I told you how it ended, you already knew…and you let me go on anyway?"
"I got to talk to you. Didn't I?" he confesses with a slowly burgeoning grin.
"Just when I think I can't possibly love you more…I find out something like this." She tilts her head into his neck and plants a kiss against the warm skin under his jaw while tightening her grip on his hand. "Remember that day? You walked me home from school, we sat together on the front porch…and we talked for such a long time."
"Yeah, I remember. It was so cold…your little nose was all red, and your hands were freezing…but you didn't want to go inside, because you wanted to watch the snow falling."
The memory tugs at his heart. Lydia perched next to him on stone steps, bundled in royal blue wool and white cotton knit, right toe of her snow boot connecting with the left heel of his, rosy cheeks blossoming through creamy skin, dainty hands clasped in her lap as the twinkle of multi-colored Christmas lights overhead reflected in her eyes. He could have sat with her for days on end, blistering cold and darkening skies be damned. He could have just listened to her talk or settled into complete silence. Forever.
"You gave me your gloves…and we stayed right where we were...until the snow stopped," she recalls.
"I remember thinking how pretty you looked. Your eyes were all full of light, and there were snowflakes scattered in your hair. When you told me that you had finished your project, and you were going to enter the science fair – the way you were smiling…" He shakes his head in awe of the memory.
Lydia pictures them; two innocent children, six years into the past. A time before werewolves and their hunters were a reality, before alpha pacts and sacrifices were as much a part of their daily lives as math class or lacrosse practice, before Peter and the Nogitsune sought to control, before more close calls with death than she can bear to count, before bloodshed and finding bodies. They had both already suffered agonizing loss in their eleven short years. Stiles, his mother, and Lydia, her father and grandmother. Yet, there was so much loss still looming ahead.
It hurts to remember, but she listens to Stiles; emotion in his voice a melody and his words the lyrics that run through it, both heading straight to her heart. His message is clear: Her happiness has always mattered to him. He has always loved her.
The burden of her mistakes weighs more heavily on her body with each passing second. Her beryl green eyes fill up and overflow with remorse, and she gasps.
He can feel Lydia tensing in his arms. "Hey, what is it?" he asks. Her ribs are worryingly still under his palms, making him aware that she is holding her breath. Stiles actively tries to persuade an exhale to leave her lungs. "Lyds, breathe. It's okay. Just breathe for me," he pleads, more forcefully massaging her torso in smooth circular motions. He waits; his own chest aching for the release in hers.
Her breath is finally issued in a quivering cry. "Stiles, I'm sorry."
"What do you mean? What are you sorry for?"
His voice is so tender that it makes her heart ache.
"Because after…we didn't talk like that again. We would say a few words to each other at school, but the more time that passed, the more distant I got."
He hears it – the embarrassment in her voice, and he knows that it's his fault. Words he should have but didn't withhold in the heat of their argument are still causing her pain, and he hates it.
"Lydia, it's in the past. It wasn't fair of me to dredge it up this afternoon."
"No. You had every right to say that to me. It obviously hurt you, and it's worse because…" She can't finish the sentence, the guilt is swirling in her stomach and making her nauseous. She keeps her gaze on their joined hands, shame making her afraid to glance up and see the damage she caused.
"Because what?"
She sucks in a sharp breath, straining to produce an answer, her throat tightly constricting with distress. "Because…I liked you. I liked talking to you because you were interested, and opinionated, and curious. And you were so sweet…and really cute."
Stiles lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Lydia reflexively lifts her head from his shoulder, eyes flashing towards his face. She fully expects to see features colored with disappointment, or frustration, or anger…or all three – everything she deserves to have directed at her for the wicked way she acted.
Instead, she sees nothing but love.
"How can you be smiling right now?" she asks, pitch of her voice crackling with disbelief.
"Why shouldn't I be?" he replies, eyebrows arched in surprise at the absurdity of her question.
"Aren't you upset with me? I was so unfair. You were so good to me and then…all of that time…I ignored you…and I pushed you away, until we were like strangers."
"But you liked me?" His eyes are gleaming gold from within, and his expression is one of peaceful content, highlighted with a touch of astonishment.
"Yes, I liked you. I liked you a lot, but…" Her mouth opens to form the next word, but she is muted by fear.
"Go ahead. You can tell me," Stiles says reassuringly.
She reaches for his shoulders, pressing her hands into him as if her balance were dependent on it. Again, her eyes search his face for a change…but still find only unreserved love. Stiles is looking at her in that soft way that he does, the way that promises he will listen to her and never judge – no matter what she discloses. How is he real?
"But it scared me. Things used to be good with my dad…until they weren't. As much as I complained about not wanting to go to Portland that Christmas, I was still really disappointed that he spent so little time with me. When I came home, and the two of us spent that afternoon together, you reminded me of how nice it felt to have someone actually listen…the way he used to. But then, I don't know… I guess I was afraid that you would do the same thing he did – just stop listening someday. I didn't want to give you the chance to do that to me. I didn't know. I didn't know…"
The words are spilling out of Lydia's mouth the same way fresh tears are spilling down her cheeks – quickly, heavily, and uncontrollably. Stiles recognizes years of her pain breaching the surface with each droplet. Seeing her so distraught inflicts a shrill ache behind his ribs. It means to spread rapidly, to drag him into the depths with her, but he actively works to remain steady for Lydia, to try to comfort her in any way that he can. He slows her words with his lips and wipes the traces of her tears with his hand.
She intensifies the contact, sobbing into his mouth, handfuls of his navy cotton tee shirt clutched within her fists.
When he parts from her, Stiles speaks as softly as possible. "Lydia, how could I be upset with you, knowing that was the reason?"
"Because it was wrong for me to treat you like that. Even when we were kids, you believed in me, you encouraged me to be myself, to do things that made me happy. But…I let myself disappear…and I let you think I didn't want to be around you…that I didn't even notice you. I don't know how things would have been between us, we were just kids, but we could have at least been friends...if I hadn't…" She moves her hands to his face, caressing him from brow to jawline. "I'm so sorry. If I could go back…" She touches his lips as if trying to draw absolution from them. "Please, Stiles… Please, forgive me."
He offers the forgiveness Lydia needs; saying the words directly into her fingers, hoping the sentiment he intends to articulate will carry straight through to her precious bones, aiming to make them a part of her marrow – part of her. "I do. Of course, I forgive you."
He grabs her digits, dropping kisses against the pads of her fingertips. Their faces mere inches apart, her body quakes alongside his, short puffs of air gusting across his chin.
"Shh…it's alright. Come here," he coaxes, slinging her legs over his lap. "Everything is okay now. I promise." Then his eyes lock with hers, completely focused, not even a blink when he tells her, "Lydia, you didn't disappear. I still saw you. I see you right now…and I will always see you – the real you," he adds.
He sees me, and he loves me. He always has, she thinks…and just like that, Stiles makes the sun come out, melts every bit of tension from her body, and dries up the river of tears she has been crying.
"I see you too Stiles, and I'm not going to look away again."
"Good." His mouth shifts upwards into a crooked smile as he bumps the tip of her nose with his own. "Do you know what it means to me…to understand how you felt?"
"Hopefully about as much as it means for me to finally be able to tell you." She scoots closer, nestling her head into the crook of his neck once more and inhaling to fill her lungs with his familiar scent. "Can I ask you something?"
Stiles squeezes Lydia close to his chest marveling at how quickly she has calmed – that he can make her feel better, ease her pain instead of causing it. The dim room miraculously seems brighter. Pure light filters through his retinas, refracts through his mind, and channels deep inside his heart, anchoring to a place that only Lydia has ever been able to touch.
"Sure."
"What made you decide to read Persuasion back then?" she inquires.
"You. I wanted to know you better, and I thought reading something you liked would help me do that."
"Did it help?"
"Yeah, it did. Well…after I got the Spark's Notes to go with it…'cause Jane Austen is kind of above reading level for an eleven-year-old…unless that eleven-year-old is you."
The sound of his voice rings with pride, not in himself, but in her. Because not only has Stiles never been threatened by her intelligence, he treasures it. More than a muffled vibration inside his chest, his tone resonates, rumbling against her ear and traveling until it reaches a hallowed place, fathoms deep inside, a place no one but Stiles has ever been able to touch.
Lydia silently laughs against his neck, dragging her hands up and down the front of his shirt as he fiddles with the lace of her camisole. "What about the second time you read it?"
"The second time was different. For one thing, I didn't need the notes," he says, lightly tickling her sides while she squirms, "but also it helped me understand myself better. Lydia, I don't want us to spend years apart, like Anne and Wentworth did. I feel like our chance is right in front of us – right now. We have to take it. You know? Maybe we could start over."
"No, Stiles," she answers, shaking her head adamantly against his shoulder. "I don't think that's a good idea,"
Stiles is stunned by her immediate response. He leans back to look at her, hoping it will help make sense of her refusal. Lydia can see that his face is stricken with upset and confusion, when only seconds ago it was relaxed and peaceful. She hurriedly works to explain.
"What I'm saying is…I don't want to start over. I don't want to forget everything we've been to each other, everything we still are. You were a lot of firsts for me too, you know. You were the first boy who ever listened to me – really listened, the first I ever trusted, the first and only to truly see me, the first and only I fell completely in love with, and the only one to love me back. If we erase the bad parts, then we'll erase the good parts too. I don't want to lose all of that. I want to keep going…together. I don't want us to miss our chance either, so we have to do better for each other. You were right. We have to talk about the difficult things, and…we can't expect or assume the way we have been."
She leans closer, stroking his jaw with her fingertips and tracing lines between the series of moles there. His beautiful brown eyes are fixed on hers and his strong arms surround her. Lydia knows she is safe and protected, and it opens her up a bit more.
"Stiles?"
"Yeah, Lyds," he responds, easing into her touch.
"Do you want to know a secret?" she whispers, pressing her lips to his cheeks, one at a time. They are all flushed, and she adores it.
He nods. When she touches him like this, it's difficult to speak. His heart picks up its pace as she moves closer, nothing but the thin material of their clothing between himself and the enticing warmth of her curves.
She kisses his eyelids, and she can feel his lashes tickling her lips – just like the butterflies that are tickling her stomach. "You're also the first and only to break my heart."
This time, his expression alters under her lips. "I never wanted to do that."
"I know. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. There has been more than enough guilt going around between the two of us. But I need to understand something. After the way we were together, why couldn't you believe that I loved you?"
"I should have believed it. You were showing me. Every day, I saw it."
"But it wasn't enough."
He bites his lip and releases it with a sigh. "I guess part of me really wanted to hear you say it…to be sure. I guess that sounds kind of pathetic… Huh?"
"No, it doesn't. It sounds completely…human. Sometimes I forget that you are…because you seem to have this superhuman ability to understand me. You're so good at reading me. A lot of the time, you know what's going through my mind before I do. I think I took that for granted. I shouldn't have assumed that you understood what I couldn't say. I wish I had been brave enough to say it, because Stiles, you deserve to hear it."
"It's not all on you though, Lydia, because…just as big a part of me knew you were doing the best you could – despite how much you've been hurt – and that is incredibly brave. There were so many moments when I felt how much you love me, but I kept convincing myself that it wasn't possible…that we would never be more than friends."
She nervously fusses with the collar of his tee shirt. "Is that because you don't think I've changed, that I'm the same girl who pushed you away and ignored you? Because I don't want to be that person. I want to be as good to you as you are to me."
He kisses her forehead. "Don't blame yourself. Please. It wasn't your fault, and you are good to me."
"But I want to be better. I want to be better for you…and for Allison and Scott. I want to be the kind of friend they've been to me. I want to be the kind of girl you deserve, because Stiles…what you deserve is someone who never makes you doubt how amazing you are." She runs her hands through his hair, playing with an end that is sticking out on one side. "Did you really have no idea how incredible I think you are? How lucky I feel to have you care about me the way you do? Because if that's the case… If I made you feel like you weren't enough…"
Lydia attempts to avert her eyes, but Stiles cups her cheek to bring her back to him.
"Listen to me, I don't want you to change. Okay? Just be you. That's all I need. Lyds, I wish you could see yourself the way I do 'cause I don't think you have any idea how good you are. After Allison," he stops, swallowing with difficulty, then begins again. "After Allison, you were traumatized…and heartbroken, but all you could think of was everyone else – Scott…Chris…me. The way you sat with me in the hospital and the way you wanted to take care of me when I came home… I will never forget it. You did everything right. You gave me everything I needed…because you never left my side and you let me take care of you too. I just couldn't get past the guilt…and a fair amount of insecurity, but that's on me, not you. And honestly, a big part of the problem was…I couldn't believe that you were falling for me because it seemed too good to be true. I figured, life doesn't work that way, you know. It doesn't give you what you want most. So, I kept putting it out of my head. I thought it would be enough just for me to love you…but I can't live like that anymore. I'll do anything to be with you. Just tell me what you want."
"It means the world to me that you feel that way, but…I think that's part of the problem too. Our relationship can't be one-sided like that. You are always concerned about what I want. I mean, you said it yourself… You left because you thought it would help me, never mind what it did to you. You made it all about me – but it has to be about us, Stiles. It's not just me or just you. It's Us. What you want is important to me. I need you to understand that I would do anything to be with you too. Anything. But I need you to tell me what you want."
"I want to see you smile," he says, running his thumb across her cheekbone.
"But what do you want for yourself?"
"That is something for me. It makes me happy to see you smile…especially if I'm the one making you do it. Also, I love your dimples," he adds with a wink.
She rolls her eyes but can't withhold a smirk.
"Yup…I feel happier already."
She kisses the tip of his nose. "What else?"
"I want you to let me love you – really love you. No holding back, no hiding, no turning away when things get difficult. I don't have much— Who am I kidding? I don't have any experience being in a relationship, but I'll give you everything I have."
"You have more experience being in a relationship than you think. The way you are with me…the way you listen, the way you care, how you believe in me – those things are all so important. And you didn't have to learn them. They've always been a part of who you are."
"I know I messed up when I left…but I want you to be able to trust me again," Stiles continues.
His arms tighten around Lydia's body, and she can sense the escalating need in him. She feels it too, like no matter how close they are, it is still not close enough.
"I do trust you. I never stopped, and everything you told me tonight, proves that trusting you could never be a mistake. You chose to tell me the truth. You could have waited until things went further, but you didn't. It would have been so easy…because I didn't want to talk about it. But you knew I needed to hear it. You knew that it would hurt more if you waited until after we were together, that it would have made what happened with Malia into something that it wasn't. You did the right thing...even though you had considered the possibility that I would push you away again. It was more important to you that we are honest with each other, and that makes me love you even more."
Lydia surprises herself at how easily Malia's name passes from her mouth. For weeks, that name had been haunting her; a discordant echo, resounding in her mind, triggering a sharp twisting in her stomach and nagging twinge that crawled underneath her skin. It represented an unknown threat, a phantom force that became more unsettling and grew more imposing every day…until she couldn't even bring herself to say it.
Because of Stiles, everything has changed. The simple act of talking with him and listening to him explain how he truly feels, has made all the difference. The name Malia has no power over Lydia anymore. It's just a name – a name that belongs to a girl who could never change what she and Stiles have built together.
"I know it wasn't easy for you to hear it…but you listened anyway. Thank you for believing me," he says.
"You make that really easy," she praises, left dimple popping through as she quirks the side of her mouth. "Tell me what else you want?"
"I want to know that I can make you happy."
"You do," she assures Stiles, drawing him into a kiss. "Very happy," she clarifies with a timid smile. "Maybe you make me too happy," she wonders aloud before she even has the chance to catch herself.
"Too happy? Is that a thing?"
She purses her lips. "I'm not sure, but I think it means that you're going to break my heart again."
"I won't." He cinches his eyebrows, determinedly shaking his head. "I won't, I won't," he repeats insistently.
"Stiles, you will. Probably a few times. You won't mean to. I know that. But it's inevitable…you'll break my heart."
"I don't understand."
"It's hard to explain."
"Can you try for me?" he asks, lifting his hand to brush a few errant strands of hair from her face.
"I'm not sure where to start." Lydia wets her lips and takes a breath. "I guess…the first thing you should know is that you've got an incredibly strong hold on my heart…more than I thought anyone could ever have. I started to feel it at the beginning of the school year."
"That far back?" he utters with obvious surprise.
"Yes. Do you remember that night with Allison and Scott…when we met on the road, and the deer ran through my windshield?"
"Yeah, of course," he recalls, closing his eyes for a moment. "I was so scared for you. I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating until I saw that you were okay."
Lydia runs her fingertips along his forearms as she continues. "I was scared too…and not just because of what happened with the deer."
"How so?"
"Well...we hadn't seen each other since the end of sophomore year. After everything that happened, I wanted to distance myself from everyone and everything. So, for the entire summer…I did. Allison was in France. Most days I was alone, and aside from those few guys I told you about, I didn't spend time with anyone. I felt empty, but it was easy…because I was used to it."
"That must have been really lonely," he comments with a grimace before bowing his head to drop a kiss on her shoulder.
"It was, but I was used to that too…from before I met Allison."
Lips immediately starting to quiver, Lydia takes another cleansing breath. She concentrates on Stiles – unwavering support of his legs beneath hers…keeping her afloat, and the solace of his arms encircling her…preventing her from drifting away.
"That night, something shifted inside me. I wasn't expecting to see you until we were back at school, but then…there you were. When I saw you, all those moments between us from the year before…they just came rushing back. Moments like the night of the winter formal, how it felt when we danced, and how you caught me off-guard when you told me I was smart. Like the way you looked at me when we went ice skating, and what it was like to hold your hand…and the time you found me in my car when you told me that I shouldn't worry if people see me cry...and especially the things you said when I came to you for help about Jackson. All of those times you were so direct and open with me. All the times you were so kind, so gentle, so understanding and patient. All of those subtle and not so subtle ways that you were weaving your way into my heart without me even realizing it... Suddenly, they were all so clear."
Stiles stares at her, silently captivated, lips parted in awestruck comprehension.
"When you ran over to me after the accident, and you put your hands on my arms…I wanted more. Ever since then, every time we were together, I felt you taking hold of another piece of my heart…until it was completely yours. I tried not to let it happen, not to let you in – but you're kind of impossible to refuse," she admits with a pout. "You make me feel so good – like I can be more than I ever thought I could be. You make me feel…like I matter."
"You do matter. Lydia, you matter a whole lot…and you have a really tight grip on my heart too," Stiles reminds her with a kiss. "You have to know that."
"Yes, but you're strong in a way that I've never been. You know how to deal with emotions. I just get...overwhelmed. So, as good as you are, and as gentle as you've always been with me, I don't…I don't think my heart is strong enough to hold the amount of love I feel for you. That's why I feel like it is going to break."
And surprisingly enough, Lydia realizes she is okay with that.
"So, you mean…you love me too much?"
Her eyes brighten at the beautiful simplicity of his words. "Yeah, you could put it like that."
"I love you too much too, Lyds," he replies, matter-of-factly. "But I don't want the way you feel about me to hurt you."
She touches his cheek. "I know…and that's why being with you again has helped me figure out something else…something that's really important, that makes it all less frightening."
"What's that?"
"That loving you too much is the only way I know how…but maybe that's the way it's supposed to be with us. So, if I love you so much that it breaks my heart, then…that's okay because you'll pick up the pieces, and you'll know how to put them together." She punctuates the statement with a kiss on his forehead. "And when you do, I'll be stronger than I was…and I'll love you even more for it..." she kisses the corner of his mouth, "and I'll let you do it all over again. And one day, I'll be strong enough to hold all that love…and Stiles, it will be because of you."
Lydia straddles his lap and kisses him, feather-light and extended in length. She concentrates on the heat and weight of his hands against the small of her back; palms pressed firmly to her skin, fingertips twitching under her camisole, like twigs kindling a fire. She reluctantly parts from his lips, looking down at him and repeatedly running her hands through his hair.
"I've held back for so long…out of fear. But I can't do that anymore. I don't want to. Loving you is going to hurt sometimes, because I'll worry about you, and I'll miss you when we're apart, and I'll ache inside every time I fail to express just how much I feel for you. But none of that changes the fact that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to be with you. I'm ready to give you my heart."
"You're sure? I can wait…if you need more time."
"I don't need more time. I'm sure. I want to give you everything," she answers.
She follows her words with a kiss on the lips that is both delicate and passionate – and leaves Stiles wanting more. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, dizzy with love and lust because he understands the meaning behind her declaration.
"I'll take it," he whispers into her ear.
His hands travel. One glides downwards along the length of her spine, and the other continues upwards to the nape of her neck, so he can deepen their next kiss. Lydia reaches for the hem of his tee shirt and hungrily chases the fabric up and off of him. Her dainty hands are remarkably forceful, and he is spellbound by the way she is able to tap into his need to connect with every part of her body. Stiles shifts his attention, hooking his thumbs under the narrow straps of her camisole and sliding them out of the way, so he can scatter kisses all along the skin from her neck to her shoulder…and when he gathers a bit more confidence…between her breasts. He can feel Lydia's heart beating rapidly against her sternum, throbbing against his lips. Her skin is smooth, like silk, and her body is pliable below his mouth. His rough hands are remarkably gentle, and Lydia marvels at how Stiles seems to know exactly how she wants to be touched. He returns to her neck, and she angles herself, granting him easier access, then tilting her face nearer his, kissing him anywhere and everywhere she can. Stiles directs his attention to her lips once again, then tightens his embrace until there is no longer any space between them and sighs into her mouth at the satisfying contact.
When they break from the kiss, they are both tempered by a heady sensation that fills their minds and a rushing pulse that occupies their hearts. They both know where this is leading, and it feels so right, so good to finally be in this place – where everything falls in line, where everything wrong can be made right again.
Stiles needs one last assurance. His voice is low and breathy as he lightly runs his hands up and down her thighs. "So, we're really doing this… Right? I'm not dreaming. We're actually going to be together...a couple…or whatever you want to call us? I mean…what if..."
He cringes at the way he is rambling, but he can't help it. He has dreamed of this moment and now he is living it. Lydia is right in front of him, and she is gorgeous, and real, and she loves him the way he loves her.
"What if what, my love?" she asks just as breathlessly, ducking her head down to kiss the hollow at the base of this throat.
The affection she conveys awakens every cell in his body. He trembles underneath Lydia, his tone becoming raspy and unstable from the feeling of her warm lips and tongue against him, but he manages to say, "What if I mess us up? Lyds, I can't lose you again. I can't."
She distinguishes the upshot of nervousness in him, and she understands it because she is nervous too. She settles her hands on his bare chest, focusing on the furious strumming of his heart against her palms. The contact centers them both. The comfort Lydia has been longing to reclaim for weeks has returned…and they are just Stiles and Lydia once more. It reminds her that their connection is far more powerful than their fear. As if Stiles can read her thoughts, he stills in response. She presses another kiss to his lips, and he eagerly accepts it. When Lydia arches back to look at Stiles, his expression could only be described as one of complete and utter reverence – it erases any trace of fear left in her heart and gives her the words she needs to soothe him.
"I can't lose you either, and you won't mess up. We won't. We'll take care of each other. Okay?" She kisses him again, letting her lips linger before turning her gaze to his eyes. "Just love me. Love me, and I will love you right back. Love me as much as you want to, and don't ever stop…because nothing feels as good as the way you are looking at me right now. Nothing feels as right as having your arms around me. Nothing feels as perfect as when you are kissing me. If we are together, everything will be fine."
With every word she speaks, Stiles lets go of another fragment of fear he has held. He focuses on the feeling of her body against his; small and delicate, but inconceivably strong and bracing. It's just the two of them again. Nothing else matters.
He can't quite fathom how, in a matter of hours, his world transformed so completely. Yesterday, marked by unbearable heartbreak and darkness at the concept of facing life without Lydia. Today, reshaped by the complete bliss he has found in this moment, with Lydia's love radiating from within her like the brightest sunlight. He loves her, he has always loved her, and he always will. He is more certain of it with every beat of his heart – which is whole once more and securely in its place, now that Lydia is in his arms again.
Apparently, time changes everything, yet leaves the purest elements untouched.
"Lydia?"
"Uh-huh…"
"You are better at dealing with emotions than you think."
She laughs. "I'm trying. When I have trouble…you'll help me though… Right?"
The casual and confident way Lydia has just asked Stiles for help, broadens the realm of possibility ahead. It dispels the last cloud of worry from his mind and fills his heart with hope.
"Yeah. I'll help you." He places his hands on both sides of her neck, thumbs resting against her jaw, expression full of intensity when he says, "I promise."
"Good," she replies, gliding her hands downwards to trace the lines of his abdominal muscles with her nails.
"Hey, Lyds?"
She lifts her glance to reconnect with his eyes, knowing that what Stiles is about to say is important. "Yeah?"
"There's one more thing I want."
"What's that?"
"I want you. Forever and always."
She smiles vibrantly, dimples and all, then plants her hands on his shoulders and gently eases him back onto the bed. "I want you too. Forever and always, Stiles. Forever and always."
Their promise is made bravely and wholeheartedly, without any doubt that they can honor it.
For Lydia, the fog that had been obstructing her view has finally lifted…and Stiles is with her, hand locked tightly in hers. The river she had been chasing…it ran dry and the path it carved through the landscape led her to Stiles – and he is not turning to leave.
For Stiles, the clouds miraculously parted…and Lydia, lovely as ever, is right within his reach. The waves that had threatened to sweep her away from him…they receded, yet Lydia has not drifted – and she is not turning away.
Every tender word they exchange washes their souls clean of all the hurt and all the misunderstandings. Every caress provides absolution for their faults and limitations. Every passionate kiss makes all that surrounds them fade away. First, her crystal lamp, his sweatshirt, their books on the bedside table, and pictures she framed. Next, the baseball he left on her desk months ago, sketches she drew weeks before, even the very bed beneath them. Then, her berry-colored walls – speckled with butterflies, and the crisp white door. Finally, the vaulted ceiling and pitched roof overhead follow suit.
Their entangled bodies vanish the houses in the neighborhood, douse streetlights, and clear the roads. Together they solve all the puzzles, vanquish evil intentions, expel demons, and lift every burden that had been imposing weight on their shoulders…until all that remains is Lydia and Stiles – together.
When every last thing that confines them fades from consciousness, what remains is beautiful, and pure, and true. It's the power of their two young hearts – beating with love for each other, protected by a softening blue-black dome of sky above that is dotted with galaxies of stars and lighted by the vast golden moon…brilliant, and whole, and beaming with the promise that all can be forgiven – that together, they can always figure it out.