It had been eight days since Stiles left Lydia alone and half dressed in her bed. Eight whole days since he passed out on Derek's couch and was then taken home by Scott and Isaac. Eight fucking days, seven damned hours, twenty four shitty minutes and fifty two god forsaken seconds since Lydia had last spoken to him.
Stiles groaned, dropping his wrist and looking away from his watch. His eyes settled on the mass of strawberry blonde curls that sat two seats in front of him - just out of reach. He really couldn't complain, he hadn't tried to initiate conversation with the girl either. They had both avoided the other after awkward eye contact and lost glances were shared that horrible, alcohol soaked Monday. Apart from lunch and a mere six classes together, Stiles didn't see Lydia much. She was silent at the table, picking at her lunch like a little bird before quickly making excuses to go study in the library.
Stiles would hurt all over again when he remembered the time he followed her there and what happened after it…
The boy closed his eyes and tried to focus on the lecture that was happening in front of him, but every time he returned his gaze to the blackboard, his eyes fell sadly back onto the frame of Lydia.
She seemed to tense up every time Stiles' eyes found her - her shoulders would stiffen and her furious note taking would suddenly falter. There was a tug somewhere deep in the girl's chest that told her exactly what Stiles was doing behind her; Lydia could feel his gaze on her, making her skin feel hot and a flush crawl up the back of her neck.
When she felt brave, she would peek behind the curtain of her long hair - letting their eyes meet in longing before she would be reminded of him leaving, walking away from her… and her final words to him. She winced from the pain that night caused her before quickly looking away.
Lydia sighed, going back to scribbling dark scrawls across her otherwise blank notebook. It had been eight whole days since she had spoken to Stiles - Lydia was counting too.
"So why have you fallen out with your wife?'' Isaac nudged Stiles good naturedly as he shoved a slice of pizza into his mouth.
Stiles grimaced at the wolf's word choice and Scott shrugged apologetically when he spotted his friend's reaction. Stiles struggled to find the words in order to reply - all whilst Isaac, Liam and Danny sat impatiently, waiting for the apparent gossip that was being withheld from them.
"Did you piss her off again?'' Danny offered helpfully.
Scott winced behind his burger, hoping and praying that his friends would leave Stiles and the sensitive subject alone. He sat in silence, ready to end the conversation if need be.
"No, funnily enough I didn't this time'', Stiles laughed humorlessly, his eyes missing the spark they once held when Lydia was brought up in conversation, "I didn't do anything wrong - not that I know of anyway''.
He smiled tightly at his audience of friends - all who looked more confused than before at the vague answer Stiles had given them. Stiles rose from his seat, shrugging his bag over one shoulder before offering Scott a small nod of thanks - his friends obvious silence meant a lot to him among the otherwise goading conversation.
"Yeah - I think I'm gonna hit the library or something… '' He trailed off awkwardly, leaving his lunch untouched and his friends look at him curiously, "And Isaac? She's not my wife, man, she's not my anything''.
The boy left them with those last words and a tight smile as he made his way through the mazes of tables in the buzzing cafeteria. His step faltered when he realized he was heading right towards the table four familiar girls occupied. He swore under his breath, forgetting that their shared gym class must have ended early.
Allison sat facing him and looked up with a warm and familiar smile. Stiles returned it hesitantly, extremely aware of the fact that Lydia sat close to her, her auburn head bent over a book that would never fit in her arms, never mind her bag.
Stiles was about to walk by quickly and unnoticed and he released a sigh of relief. When he was five steps away from the girls table, he heard his name being called enthusiastically.
"Hey, Stiles!''
Malia.
He hesitated for a second, wondering if he could get away with pretending he didn't hear her - he could just keep walking. But Malia was loud. So instead, with another muttered curse, he spun slowly on his heel until he saw the table of expectant faces - some which were more happy to see him than others. The boy chanced a quick and awkward wave at the coyote, hoping that somehow, her supernatural senses would kick in and she would realize that this was not the time.
Instead, she gestured him over with a wide smile. Stiles glared at Allison as he stiffly walked back over to them, mentally willing her to do something, to say anything. The brunette simply shrugged, her curious gaze darting between Lydia and himself.
He paused at the top of the table, between Kira and Lydia herself. The atmosphere shifted, the air stilled and Stiles was almost brought to his knees at the feeling of overwhelminglonging. He coughed nervously.
"Hey, guys'', he raised his hand in another awkward wave, his eyes lingering on Lydia's profile. She sat up straighter than before, her studious gaze trained on the table as Allison not so subtly kicked her from underneath.
She glared at her friend before going back to the pages of her book. Allison shrugged apologetically to the boy, her sad and frustrated eyes matching Stiles'.
Oblivious to what was apparently happening around her, Malia launched into a conversation about Isaac and their last date - and had he mentioned anything about her? It took Kira poking Stiles between the ribs three times before he tore his stare away from Lydia's constant doodling in the margin before he replied with an intellectual, 'huh?'
Malia frowned and repeated her question with more bluntness than necessary. Kira winced at her friend's tone, looking up at Stiles with a good natured smile.
"So, has he said anything about me to you or the others?'' Malia asked him with raised eyebrows and an expectant smile.
To be truthful, Stiles had heard anything that was said to him in over a week - classes, parents and friends included. In a very Stiles like manner, he stumbled and stuttered - his hand reaching for the nape of his neck as he searched for the right reply.
"Uh, I'm sure - I think, he said… Isaac totally mentioned…'' He tripped over each word again and again, becoming so much more horribly aware of Lydia next to him as she rose from her chair to stand next to him. She was so close.
She only reached his shoulders but suddenly he was looking down into her wide, hazel eyes. She smiled a sad smile, her eyes lowering from his own before she threw some words over her shoulder at Malia.
"I remember him telling Stiles and the guy's how much fun he had with you at the weekend - In fact, I'm sure he's planning on asking you out again tonight… Isn't he Stiles?''
His name fell from her lips like a fucking nuclear bomb. The sound of it tore his breath from his lungs and made his heart leap into his throat. He was silent for what seemed like hours before he nodded, his lips parted as he gazed down at the girl.
"Yes, uh yeah - he did say that, yeah'', Stiles voice was low and hollow, his throat was dry and mind was filled with nothing but the way Lydia's long curls brushed his bare arm and how her too-familiar perfume clung to the air he desperately breathed in.
He finally glanced up at Malia, who was blushing cutely and grinning at the apparently correct answer. Within seconds, she had her head bent by Kira's, the two of them whispering excitedly at the prospect of planning another date outfit soon.
Allison was suspiciously quiet, her forgotten apple playing at her quirked lips as she watched her best friend and the boy who was like her brother stare at each other in silence.
The world and all it's sounds faded out from around her like a bad romance movie, and all Lydia could see, was Stiles. Her neck already hurt from looking up at him, her usual heels swapped for flats after gym and circuit running. But she couldn't look away.
His hair was messy as usual, the end's curling ever so slightly and telling her he was in need of a haircut. His brown eyes were losing their guarded appearance, slowly warming back to the liquid gold that she knew so well. He was still gazing down at her, his perfectly bowed lips quirking as she tried not to blush.
Lydia's mind was screaming at her - actually screaming as she tried in vain to make order out of all the words she was dying to say to him.
I'm sorry.
I was wrong.
I miss you.
I love you.
She parted her lips, ready to say something, to say anything - hoping that it would at least come out in the right order and sound halfway intelligible. But for the first time, in her life, Stiles beat her to it.
"Nice save - thanks… uh, thank you'', Stiles shuffled awkwardly, his arm brushing her shoulder and sending pinpricks of sinful heat into her skin. She was starting to believe that standing this close to him after so long was causing her genuine pain.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to rein in her thoughts and eventually, Lydia settled on a nervous and almost disappointed smile.
It was a timid and fake and so, so hurt smile that Allison had to look away. Stiles frowned at it's appearance on the girls lips and he ached to kiss it away. His fingers twitched as he reached out to touch her waist.
He stopped.
"Yeah, you're welcome - I just, yeah-'' Lydia's voice was strange and robotic, her cheeks warming and tears staining the corner of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, her gaze dropping.
"Lydia…'', Stiles' voice was low and broken, and suddenly, close to her ear. His neck was bowed, his body inches away from her own as if he was scared to touch her. The truth was, he didn't trust himself to stop if he did.
The girl started at the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body and the way his name fell from his lips. Lydia jumped slightly, bringing her head up too quickly and realizing all too late that their faces were only centimeters apart.
All conversation around them died as both sets of eyes flicked rapidly between each other's wide gaze and then down to their parted lips. She could see the sharp lines of his cupids bow, the small mole on his cheek. Lydia was suddenly breathing too quickly, the large, crowded room was far too warm and the world in front of her spun.
She stumbled backwards, her footing unsure as she hurried to back away from Stiles' lips. He frowned as he watched her, genuine concern in his eyes as he reached out to steady her. His hand connected with Lydia's waist, it fitting perfectly into the dip in her small waist as it always had done. They both stilled, realizing that they had every one of their friends attention, stares coming from both sides of the cafeteria.
If this had been two months ago, before that fateful valentine's night, Stiles would've pulled Lydia to him without a care in the world, his arm around her shoulder as he made fun of her heavy textbooks and pulled a curl playfully. Lydia would've rolled her eyes and laughed, nagging him to fix his shirt collar before taking him by the hand and pulling him away to class.
Now, Lydia froze under his touch. Stiles dropped his hand as if he had been burnt and he stepped out of her way. Watching as his friend strode past him and grasped her book to her chest. Lydia ignored Allison's urgent whispers as she collected her belongings from the table and stuffed them into her bag.
Walking towards the double doors that led to the hallway, Lydia hesitated as she passed Stiles still form, he watched her, waited for her.
Lydia stopped, her face partially hidden from the mass of hair that fell haphazardly into her face. One side of her full lips quirked sadly, her eyes holding his own for only seconds as she told him quietly but sincerely, "I'm sorry, Stiles''.