H二十六N二十六二十六十L
When Stiles wakes up next morning, the only two things that hit him are i) killer headache that makes him think he might've banged his head on a wall for a whole hour and seeing as he has no recollection of the events that transpired last evening, he might very well have
ii) flashes of strawberry blonde hair and soft pink lips that tasted of vodka and- wait WHAT.
Lydia isn't at school. He's finally forced to accept the fact after searching every classroom and every hallway, asking Allison to check all the cubicles in the girls' washroom and as a last resort even sending Isaac and Scott on a sniffing spree.
He's on edge the whole day, fidgeting with any object he can find, tapping his feet anxiously and biting his nails till there's nothing left to bite, because oh god, he HAS to know. he has to know if she really kissed him, if it was really her and not some wet dream or apparition. Because anything that he does from here on out, depends on what she did, and more importantly, why she did it.
She doesn't go to school for a few days. Because she knows that one of two things will happen. She'll either have to see Stiles sticking his tongue down Malia's throat again like nothing ever happened. Or he'll want to talk. And Lydia didn't want to talk. Because she didn't think she could say anything to him without feeling like a shitty human being for waiting 9 years for him to finally get some action and then waltzing in, kissing him and leaving a kamikaze explosion in her wake.
But she knows she can't hide out forever. And Allison gives her an ultimatum. So she shows up. But she hides in empty classrooms and deserted corridors. And runs out to her car right after the last bell without looking back.
Stiles can't drag himself to school knowing that she won't be there. He's pieced back everything he can remember about that night, but its not much and he's not satisfied. But he remembers her face, her striking green eyes, a mixture of fear and hope and longing. And he remembers the moment that their lips finally meet, and the bitter taste of vodka on her lips and all he knows is that he wants to do it over and over again. minus the vodka, of course. And he wonders amusedly just how many people have been brought together and fucked over by alcohol and if he and Lydia are the same as all the others- casualties.
So when Lydia isn't in her usual seat behind him in Calculus class and the teacher is forced to call Greenberg to do the sum on the board instead, and Greenberg being Greenberg, or rather, not Lydia Martin, fucks everything up, Stiles decides enough is enough. So he spends the rest of the class scribbling a cheesy note to stuff in her locker.
Lydia doesn't want to be found, obviously. But as the week reaches its end, so does her will power because not seeing Stiles for this long is killing her and so is sneaking around all day like James fucking Bond. Lydia Martin does not sneak around. So she decides she's so done. And she thinks of maybe calling him to end this stupid game of hide-and-seek. Especially since she's a little worried that the other player has forfeited the game.
She sighs audibly against her locker before turning around resignedly to open it and get her books out for the next class. She rummages around until a piece of paper falls out. She bends to pick it up, her heart both sinking and doing cartwheels at the same time as she recognizes the loopy handwriting.
Lydia,
I don't know what I told you that night, or if there was any talking in the first place, but long story short- Malia didn't think I was over you and I was really mad at her for implying that, but Lydia, she's right. and it took me a coyote, a bottle of vodka and a drunken kiss to realize that. I've loved you for 9 years, and I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that a coyote, however pretty she is, could fuck that out of my system. Needless to say, we've broken up. I looked for you everyday for a while, and stopped when I realized that you didn't want to be found. I've given you so much time, 9 years to be precise, and what's one more week right. Wrong. I'm sorry, but I can't wait anymore. So here I am, back to square one, hoping that you'll want me. I can only hope that you're not back to square one too.
She read it and re-read it and re-re-read it until she was sure she could recite it backwards in her sleep. She's folding the note neatly when she hears it.
"Lydia?" an uncertain voice says behind her. There's no mistaking it. its him. who else could it be?
She knows two things now- i) a kiss is never just a kiss and ii) closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before making a really horrible decision seems to work particularly well with Stiles.
So she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and turns around.
