Looking at it now
It all seems so simple
We were lying on your couch
I remember
You took a Polaroid of us
Then discovered (then discovered)
The rest of the world was black and white
But we were in screaming color
And I remember thinking…Lydia lay on the grass, her fingertips just touching his. Take my hand, she silently willed him. Just take it. She and Stiles had been getting closer and closer to something more than friendship and Lydia found herself wanting it more and more. It surprised her. She never expected this, not with Stiles.
Stiles scared her in a way that she hadn't known she could be afraid before. He was her best friend but the idea that he could be more than that was positively overwhelming, in the best way. But if she lost him it would kill her. He was too important to risk.
"Hey, Lyds?"
Lydia turned her head to look at him. The moonlight shone on his features in a way that was so flattering, it drove her crazy. The light bounced off of his beautiful, warm, amber eyes and it illuminated every wonderful mole on that handsome face. His hair looked inviting and all she wanted was to run her fingers through it. "Mmm?"
"Who would win in a fight? Scooby Doo or Bugs Bunny?"
Lydia couldn't stop a laugh from falling from her lips. "What?"
"Who would win in a fight?"
"Bugs Bunny," she replied, still hearing the laughter echoing in her voice.
"Really?"
"No contest."
"I think that's a little harsh to Scooby Doo."
"Well unless he developed a taste for rabbits, I don't think he has anything on Bugs." Lydia grinned at him, unable to believe that they were having this discussion.
"Rude!" The laughter finally ripped from Stiles, shaking his body uncontrollably.
His laugh was one of Lydia's favorite things about him. When he acted like a light hearted kid, he made her feel lighter. He was the only person who could make her feel better about the world without even trying.
"Okay. Who would win in a fight: Rachel Green or Lily Aldrin?" Lydia grinned at him. "Rachel. Hands down."
"You're just saying that because of our crush on Jennifer Aniston," she teased.
"Oh whatever! Molly Weasley or Derek?"
Lydia laughed. "Honestly? Molly."
"Yeah, she is a bad ass, isn't she?"
"She'd even get Derek," Lydia agreed. "Scott or Luke Skywalker?"
"I knew you'd seen Star Wars, you liar." Stiles grinned at her. "Luke, just because I'm bitter that Scott doesn't know who that is."
"I knew you would say that."
Stiles grinned. "Me or Han Solo?"
Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Really? Of all the people to pit yourself against you go for Han Solo?"
"I know. I made it hard for you to pity chose me."
"You did. I still chose you though."
Stiles rolled onto his side, eyes fixed on hers. "You do?"
"Well… You've been through as much as Han Solo without the weapons so I figure…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say. How could she tell him that her faith in him was as strong as her faith in the sun rising and setting? Stiles could pick a fight with anything and come out on top because that's who he was. Then he'd make it sound even more epic than it was, edit out the part where he undoubtedly stumbled, and laugh and joke about the whole thing. She could count on him to do things like that. She knew him. That was one of the most comforting parts about him. Somehow, she'd come to know Stiles better than she knew herself.
But she couldn't say any of that. Because he was looking at her with that look that he had. The one where his eyes would soften and all of the longing he had ever felt was so apparent on his face that it made her heart ache. And when he looked at her like that it was hard to say anything, let alone a truth that she couldn't even admit to the mirror.
The crushing weight of the silence was pressing on her, overwhelming her. She had to say something. She opened her mouth, still unsure of what to say, when suddenly she didn't have to speak. Stiles's lips had pressed themselves against hers and she was kissing him back. It was the most natural thing in the world and all Lydia could think of was him. She hoped this one wouldn't crash and burn.
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
"So… I'm not sure he likes me much," Stiles said slowly, following Lydia into her bedroom. "Should I be concerned about that?"
"No. My dad will come around. He always does." Lydia tossed her purse into the corner of the room. "Besides, it's not like it matters what he thinks. He gave up that right when he left."
Stiles nodded slowly and threw himself onto the bed. The frame squeaked and he winced. "Sorry." He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed as if he was studying her, which would be nothing new.
"What?" she sighed.
"What was it like when he left?" he finally asked.
Lydia's eyes widened automatically, shocked at the question. No one had ever asked her that before. Anytime her dad came up they just nodded along and helped the conversation move away from it. She had never dropped any hints that she wanted to talk about him and no one had ever asked. Now that someone was asking, she didn't feel the indignant anger that she would have expected. She actually found herself wanting to tell him everything.
She slowly sat on the very edge of the bed, hands in her lap. "It was… It was surprising." She chewed on her lower lip. "They never let me know anything was wrong so when they told me they were getting divorced…. I guess my dad cheated on my mom a few years ago and she tried to move past it but eventually she just couldn't keep it in. So she'd pick fights and get mad at him over everything and then he got sick of it and he left. I woke up one morning and went downstairs… My mom was sitting at the table with her coffee and my dad… He just wasn't there."
Stiles reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers, his palm against the back of her hand. "I'm sorry…"
"It's fine." Lydia turned her face away, putting up the wall that she'd instinctively been putting up forever.
"Lyds… It's okay if it's not…."
"No, it's not."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to be the girl that cries in the hallways or that openly hurts. I don't want people to know I'm upset. I want to be strong, not broken."
"You are strong. You're the strongest person I've ever met. But you need to break every once in a while. We all do. We're built that way. There is nothing wrong with that…"
"Really? Because you don't fall apart in hallways."
"No," Stiles said suddenly, his voice quiet. "Just in locker rooms."
Lydia turned her head to face him, mentally flashing back to another afternoon, when she'd rushed a hyperventilating boy into the locker room. He'd fallen to his knees in a heap, shaking and crying a little. "That's… that's different…"
"It isn't…" He looked at her. "Lyds, they're not exactly a rare thing. I used to get them all the time. Now it's just every now and then. But even when I'm not hyperventilating at school? I still have social anxiety. You wanna talk weak? There it is. Being too afraid to walk into a party or join a group or sit with someone new."
"You're not weak." Lydia wished she could summon more but her mind was reeling. Social anxiety? It somehow both made sense and seemed strange and impossible. "Stiles… You chased me for years… I rejected you constantly and you were still at it. You weren't afraid of me. That's strength."
"But I never asked you out."
"I never wanted you to."
Stiles flinched.
"That's not how I meant that… Stiles, I needed a friend after Jackson and you were there. You let me tell you when I was ready. You paid attention to every hint I ever dropped to know if my feelings had changed. When they had, you were there. Strength is being my friend day after day when you wanted more. And not being afraid to do so."
"Lydia, you terrified me."
"But it didn't stop you. Ever."
"It almost did a couple of times," he said quietly.
"I'm glad it didn't." Her fingertips trailed across his cheek. She looked into his eyes and then sighed softly. "I didn't even know they were fighting," she whispered. "They never let me see it, never let anyone see it. And then I woke up one morning and my mom was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee at the table. She told me my dad was no longer living with us. And the next time I saw him, he asked me who I wanted to live with. I mean what the hell was I supposed to say to that? Kids aren't supposed to pick between their parents."
Stiles gently brushed his hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Lyds…"
"Why would he do that?" she finally asked, looking up at him. "I mean, the way he did it… He put pressure on it. "If you chose your mom, I'll understand, doll. It'll be hard to get up without your face in the morning but I'll manage." What the hell?"
Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead silently. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. And then, to her shock, he said the words that she needed to hear most.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered in her ear. "I'm with you for the long haul, Lydia Martin…"
Maybe she wouldn't lose him after all….
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?"You really let your room get bad this time." Lydia picked up a sock from under the bed then made a face and threw it. "Ugh. Stiles. Not okay."
He grinned at her. "It's been worse."
"I am not comforted by that." She sat up on the bed. "Are you sure I can't help?"
"Positive." Stiles tossed a shirt into his laundry hamper. "It's times like this that I wonder why people let me make my own decisions."
"To be fair, I recall your dad last week saying, "Stiles, please. For the love of God clean your room!"" For good measure, Lydia pretended to cry when voicing Sheriff Stilinski.
"The crying sound effects are unnecessary and also false." Stiles grinned at her and shook his head. "You are such a pain, Lydia Martin."
"Yes, but I'm your pain. You're welcome," she teased.
Stiles grinned back at her as he tossed a jacket on the bed next to her. "Boom. And you can officially see the floor."
"But not the bed."
"Eh, I'll stay at Scott's." Stiles grinned at her, eyes sparkling. He nodded his head to the beat of a song and started singing along, purposefully off key. Lydia grinned at him and shook her head slowly.
He dropped to his knees and slid in front of her, miming playing the electric guitar. "There's no electric guitar in this song," Lydia said with a small grin. Stiles hopped to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on." She rolled her eyes, smiling in a way that only Stiles could make her do, took his hand, and got up. He pulled her into his arms, leading her in a dance.
It was one of those things that Lydia hadn't known she'd wanted in a relationship until she'd had it. It was simultaneously comforting and fun, being in his arms and dancing around the bedroom. It was something she knew Jackson would have never done. But Stiles was different than most people.
Stiles inspired her to have more fun and relax in a way that she hadn't really thought was possible. It was the kind of thing she thought existed only in Nicholas Sparks books but it was true. Stiles was exactly what she needed. Somehow, they were in sync. They moved together, they reached the same conclusions together, they had similar tastes. But they reacted to things differently, they had some different preferences. They balanced each other out.
And yet, some part of Lydia knew that it would have to end some day because everything did. While another part of her thought she and Stiles would make it, the cynic in her was afraid to fully trust that thought. If she let her guard down, it would hurt worse when they split.
When could you tell if you'd made it?
Are we out of the woods?
Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet?Lydia let her head rest on his shoulder, the familiar feeling of his long fingers moving through her hair, twirling and winding the ends over his skin. She could hear his breath, reliable and strong, by her ear, feel his chest rising and falling. His long legs were stretched across his bed, her legs curled up beside them.
It was one of those moments you never wanted to end. And because of that she knew it would. Everything ended. "Stiles?" Her voice was only a whisper, shaky and insecure. She hated herself for it. She wanted to be strong and not afraid. She was tired of always being afraid. Afraid of being hurt, of being turned away or shut out.
"Yeah?" His other hand was on her back, running up and down it rhythmically.
"Do you think we'll make it?"
It was like the world froze. Stiles held his breath, chest frozen in place, hand on her back now stationary, and the other hand holding a strand of her hair. "Lyds…" And suddenly he was moving in all the wrong ways. Away from her. Lydia started to protest but stopped. He now sat on the bed, red skinny jeaned legs folded underneath him as he took her hands in both of his. "Lydia Martin. I am not going anywhere."
"Stiles, time changes things. Time can change-"
"Hey." He slid two fingers under her chin, turning her face to his. "Time has never changed how I felt about you. I have loved you since the day you first said a word to me. My heart was yours then and it still is now and it will be when I am older than the chick in Titanic."
Lydia let out a small chuckle reluctantly, trying to turn her face to the bed to hide the emotion passing over it. Stiles determinedly turned it to him again. "Hey… I mean it. Lydia Martin. I love you. I will always love you. I have always loved you. Other people might come and go but I am going to be constant. You're mine and I'm yours. Every single day, I love you more. And after ten years, you think I won't fight for you? No matter what comes our way I will be fighting for us. I will never give up or turn my back on you or us. I'm betting on us. Wait here." He got to his feet and went to his desk. He pulled out a bunch of red yarn, cut some, and came back. As he sat back down, he said, "Hold out your hand."
She did as she was told and watched him tie a small piece around her ring finger. "Lydia Martin," he said quietly, looking in her eyes, her hand in his, "I promise you that I will be yours forever. My heart belongs to you. I am not going anywhere. I love you. I will love you until the day I die and every day after because a love like this doesn't die. You're my partner in crime, my friend, and my soulmate. I am completely yours." Overwhelmed with emotion, Lydia took his hands and kissed him softly. This was it. They were out of the woods.
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods?
Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
In the clear yet?
Good