Author's note: I'm sorry it took longer to update guys, but I'm afraid updating might take a bit longer from now on because my first year of Uni is starting tommorow. The wait won't be too bad, just not as short as they used to be. I will try my very best to update as regularly as I can. But thank you all for the feedback and for following and favouriting, you all are awesome! Keep the reviews coming, I love reading them :) Enjoy!
Weeks had passed since Lydia had seen the dark figure in Stiles' bedroom and it had yet to make a reappearance. The situation with the Darach and the Alpha pact had been resolved- well as resolved as things could get-, Derek was gone, and Lydia had found herself in some sort of an actual relationship with Aiden.
She didn't really understand why. Having Aiden as a boyfriend was fine. He walked her to class, carried her books, kissed her good morning sweetly. He responded eagerly to her whenever she needed a distraction. But that's all he was. Just fine and still served the same purpose to her as he had in the beginning. A distraction.
He didn't understand why Lydia wouldn't let him come over anymore. Why she wouldn't acknowledge him at school, except when she greeted him in the morning and before she left for home after the bell rang. He especially did not understand why she had spent more time with Stiles Stilinski than she had with him.
She hadn't stayed over at Stiles' places after that one night but it had taken her a couple of weeks before she'd fallen asleep without needing to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. Lydia had managed to relax a bit more, starting to really believe that whatever had been haunting her had decided to stop for whatever reason.
Stiles' had kept his eye on her though and for that she was grateful. She still had nightmares occasionally after that and when she did, Stiles had picked up on the first ring, no matter where he was or what he was doing. He'd ramble on random facts to her whenever she'd wake at three in the morning, tangled in sheets and skin sticky with sweat.
Or at least he had. She had begun to make it a bit difficult for him.
Lydia stood on the tip of her toes, reaching as far as she could into the top shelf of her locker, her fingers seeking the spine of her Biology textbook when she heard the vague sound of footsteps approaching. Right when she'd managed to skim the back of the book her feet gave out.
"Damn it," she sighed and stretched to try and reach it again. She found that a hand was already there, pulling the book out.
She turned her head to see Stiles looking down at her with a small but amused smile on his face. "Hey," he said.
"Hi," she responded quickly and then looked away just as fast when she noticed who was with him.
She had momentarily forgotten that she wasn't the only one who had found a distraction.
Stiles was holding Becca Johnson's hand. And Lydia was in no mood to see that.
The petite, freckled, dark haired girl was new to the school, having arrived in town about a week after Derek had left, and had caught Stiles' attention almost immediately. Lydia wondered if it was just the normalcy of her that had attracted Stiles to her.
It wasn't like she could blame him for it. Stiles was always plagued with supernatural issues. If it wasn't taking care of the werewolves and whatever problematic situation they found themselves in, it was her and her craziness. And Becca was just a normal, teenage girl who was quirky and smart-just like Stiles-, who didn't need him to fix everything for her.
It wasn't just Stiles who was enamoured by her. The entirety of the McCall pack seemed to genuinely enjoy her presence. Becca had an air about her that put everyone around her at ease. She was kind and cute and simple and captivating all at the same time. It was odd that a girl who had no knowledge of any of the supernatural activity in Beacon Hills could fit so easily with all of them, but somehow, she did. Lydia couldn't deny it. Becca was a breath of fresh air for the group. She had no reason to deny it.
Except she did.
It was why she couldn't look at the two of them for more than half a second.
"Hey Lydia," Becca greeted Lydia with a kind smile.
She returned the smile but then quickly returned to pretending to flip through her textbook. "Shouldn't you two be heading off to class? The bell's going to ring."
"As a matter of fact, I probably should," Lydia saw Becca turn her head up to Stiles who kissed her temple. The way he smiled at her was nothing like the way Lydia smiled at Aiden. Becca wasn't a distraction for Stiles. She was appalled to feel the lump in her throat and her eyes burning at the realization. "I'll see you later?"
Stiles watched her go for a moment before Lydia felt his eyes on her again. She was pretending to search the top shelf again, trying to control her breathing in an effort to prevent the tears from falling. "Aren't you going to go as well?"
"I'm in your class."
"Well I'm heading over there right after I find-"
"Lydia, you can't reach," she glared at him and he sighed before gently pulling her arm away and reaching for the top shelf himself. "What do you need?"
"Nothing," Lydia grumbled and then moved past him at a pace she didn't know she was capable of.
"What-Lydia?" she heard him close the locker shut and then he was following her. "What's wrong?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm going to class, Stiles."
"Hold on a second," he said, and something in his voice made Lydia stop. "I wanted to talk to you."
The halls were nearly empty now, except for a few students doing some last minute scurrying. Stiles waited until a nearby freshman was out of earshot before speaking again. "How are you?"
Lydia stared at him. And then retreated into the same façade she had put up on the first day of school when he'd questioned her about the injury on her ankle. Prada bit me. Your dog? No, my designer handbag. "I'm fine…?"
And his eyes narrowed and he gave her the exact same exasperated look. "Like hell you are-"
"Stiles, do we have to do this now?" Lydia demanded, looking around her, trying to find someone in the hallway that she could claim could be eavesdropping. But as luck would have it, the bell had already rung and it was now completely empty aside from the two of them.
"Now? You mean, right now in this empty hallway devoid of all people where two friends could just ask each other how they're doing since both their worlds became centred around werewolves and banshees and not get institutionalized if anyone were to hear?" Stiles still whispered the second half and Lydia groaned. "Yeah, Lydia, now."
She crossed her arms over her chest and said determinedly, "I'm fine, Stiles."
There was silence as he watched her face, her eyes. Then, "I don't believe you."
"You don't need to," The words were cold but Stiles was looking at her like he felt sorry for her and she could feel the tears in her eyes again and she just wanted to tell him that no she was not okay-
"You've been avoiding me," he finally spoke, after what seemed like a decade long pause.
"I have not," Lydia denied vehemently and she probably should have known that that level of emotion in her refutation just made it even more of a confirmation. "Look, Stiles, I've been busy and that thing hasn't come back since the last time-"
"You haven't been having nightmares?"
"No."
"That's not what Allison's been saying. She said whenever you two are sleeping in the same room it's like a horror movie with all the screaming the both of you do."
She'd forgotten that Allison was vaguely aware of Lydia's nightmares as well but nowhere close to the full extent and Lydia was hesitant to fill her in. She wasn't doing all that great herself, constantly being plagued by visions of her murdering Isaac.
Lydia relented, the anger leaving her and her eyes falling to the floor. "I have them sometimes. They're fine. I can handle them on my own."
"You could have handled all of them on your own, Lydia," Stiles said flatly. "The point is, you didn't have to. You don't have to. Which is why you used to call me."
He was watching her, waiting for her to reply, his brow raised as if daring her to pretend like she hadn't been doing what they both knew she'd been doing all along. Avoiding him.
The last thing she wanted to be doing was arguing with Stiles in the middle of the hallway about why she didn't call him anymore when they both knew that she needed him. What was she supposed to say? She was starting to accept that yes, she was hurting and it was because Stiles was with Becca. But there was no way she was about to tell him that.
Lydia knew that she had no right to be upset. Stiles had pursued her since the third grade, had made it perfectly clear to her that he wanted to be with her. She had every reasonable opportunity in the last two years, but she hadn't taken it. She couldn't expect him to wait for her forever especially since she knew that if their roles were reversed, she wouldn't.
And he hadn't.
"Stiles, I need to go to class," Lydia said finally. "And so do you."
She heard Stiles call her twice as she walked away. She didn't turn around. She didn't slow down.
When she turned the corner, she stopped. She listened to see if Stiles was following and when she was convinced he wasn't, she pressed her back against the wall and reached into her bag for tissues.
When her hand came up empty, she settled for wiping her tears away with her hand.
The rift between Lydia and Stiles did nothing to drive her any closer to Aiden. In fact, she found herself drawing away from him more now than ever. She knew it was driving him insane but she figured she could keep him happier with her distance than burden him with the emotional mess that she was.
While she had pulled away from Aiden, Lydia had formed a close bond with someone else. Isaac.
She didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the fact that out of the pack, Isaac seemed to be the one who liked Becca the least. When Lydia had asked why, Isaac had shrugged and said that he found it odd how quickly everyone had accepted her into their pack and that he just didn't trust her yet.
Lydia knew it was petty but since she wasn't overly fond of Becca either, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction that at least Isaac didn't think she was that great either.
Isaac wasn't bad company at all. Their friendship had formed when Lydia had taken to sitting beside him at their lunch table. He always sat close enough to her best friend and just far enough from Stiles that she'd found it the perfect spot. At first, he'd been confused with her sudden desire to be closer to him. But then he seemed to take notice of the way Lydia would try not to look at Stiles and had let it be.
Lydia was surprised when Isaac turned out to be the only one who she told about Stiles. Surprised as she was, she was happy that she did. He had kept it to himself and had since made it his responsibility to become her wingman, of sorts. He'd cover for her whenever she was afraid of being left alone with Stiles, coming up with a quick excuse to switch places with her. He'd nudge her playfully whenever he'd catch her staring at her food while everyone else was busy talking animatedly with Becca.
She was grateful for Isaac. She'd forgiven him ten times over for trying to kill her last year. She thought he was an amazing guy and wouldn't deny that she thought that he would be good for Allison.
Those two had some weird tension between them that all of them could sense a mile away.
As wonderful as Isaac was, she still coaxed herself back to sleep whenever she woke up from a nightmare. She was comfortable with Isaac, but not enough to let her walls down completely. She felt completely exposed and vulnerable after a nightmare and found it much harder to let someone in in that state.
A voice in her head told her, You let Stiles in.
Isaac was great. But she missed Stiles.
The bell rang for lunch and Lydia stood from her desk quickly. She gathered her things as fast as she could, in a hurry to get out of the classroom before Stiles, who was in the class with her, could stop her.
It had been a week and half since he'd confronted her in the hallway and they hadn't spoken since. Stiles had tried to but she always made sure that there was always at least one person with her whenever he was near. Other than Isaac, Lydia hadn't told anyone about Stiles and from the way he refrained from talking to her whenever someone else was there, she knew he hadn't either. It seemed the rest of the pack hadn't picked up on the tension between them.
She had made it out the door and was just about to turn the corner when she walked straight into Becca. "Lydia, there you are!"
Lydia tried to keep her expression pleasant and voice neutral. "Hi Becca…were you looking for me?"
She nodded, the hair she had pulled into a pony tail bobbing behind her. "I wanted a word."
"About what?"
"Listen," her voice dropped and she was now speaking much quieter, like she was trying to avoid eavesdroppers. "Stiles told me how you've been having trouble sleeping with the nightmares and all. I just want you to know, that if you've stopped talking to him because you're worried about what I'd think, please don't. I don't mind him helping you at all. If he can help you sleep better, then of course I don't mind."
But all Lydia had really heard was one thing.
Stiles told me Stiles told Stiles told me.
She felt the tears fall down her face before she felt the anger that fueled them. She felt her heart break before the hurt had set in. She felt her walls come back up and solidify before her, what used to be unwavering, trust in Stiles faltered.
She turned around, overwhelmed with her tears and ran. She heard Becca call her from behind and a few moments later felt arms try to catch her. It was Scott, who looked so concerned it made her cry harder. She batted his hands away and continued to move down the hall, desperate to reach the front doors.
"Lydia!" That was Isaac. She looked over her shoulder to see him pushing through the crowd, trying to get to her. "Lydia-what happened? Lydia!"
She somehow made it outside and as soon as she'd locked herself inside her car, she tried to block out the memory of Isaac's voice in her head.
The way he had called her, the concern in his voice and his face, reminded her too much of Stiles. And it hurt because Isaac was just beyond the school doors, willing and ready to be the friend she needed. But all she wanted was Stiles.