2:30 am.
The numbers blared red on the alarm clock next to her bed. They warned her sharply that sleep was needed, and if she went to bed now maybe she wouldn't regret this in the morning. Despite its warning, Lydia powered through her current book, telling herself just one more chapter and then she'll turn in for the night. But that was 10 chapters ago,and with each page Lydia digs her hole a bit deeper.
Truth be told Lydia was avoiding sleep, and it wasn't due to the dire need to find out what happens next (although that was becoming more prominent now.) No, a chapter in Lydia's own life was ending, and tomorrow brought a new one. You'd think that for someone as in love with literature as Lydia was she'd be dying to see where that next chapter lead, but in reality she was too scared to turn the page. The next chapter was college. It was moving out and entering a whole new battlefield.
Another chapter of her book passed, and now the numbers blared 2:53am. Lydia could easily power through and finish it tonight, but the feeling of regret was already looming in her head, so she sighed and finally put the book aside and turned in for the night.
Her mind raced with thoughts of roommates, professors and career choices.
Pre-Med. Lydia Martin at 19 would be walking in with enough credits to be a sophomore and working her way towards medical school. It was impressive, more than impressive, so why wasn't she pleased?
The wind whistled at her through the open window of the bedroom, and as she laid there, Lydia wondered what it would be like to crawl out that window and see how far her feet would take her. Lydia closed her eyes, trying to suppress the thoughts of running away, hoping to replace them with thoughts of sleep. The window whistled louder though, and Lydia almost thought she could hear it whisper to her. Heart beating rapidly against her chest she turned to look once more at the blaring red number.
3:12am. Fuck.
Anyone who knew Lydia Martin would never have guessed she would be up so late worrying about college, but that's just part of the charade, part of her secret.
Lydia Martin: local genius with a feisty personality destined to win some sort of Field Medal. That was the image created and projected to the world, but deep down lied something totally different. She was still smart, but the confidence was an act. Truthfully she was terrified of judgment, and if it were up to her she would spend her days observing instead of speaking. Lydia loved beautiful things, and every day this small world gave her something that left her in awe. Books and literature were her passion, not science, and if it were up to her she would be winning awards for best author not the next greatest formula.
That was her secret though. It was locked away in the depths of her heart in order for it to stay hidden from the world. That Lydia Martin wasn't the person the world wanted her to be, and it wasn't the person her parents wanted her to be.
As much as she would regret the lack of sleep later, she would still smile to herself because those few hours late at night when the world was quiet, that was the only time Lydia Martin was truly Lydia Martin.
One more look at those devilish numbers told her it was 3:23am. The window still whispered for her to come look at the night sky, and her heart still hammered against her chest, but finally her mind was complying. She was still terrified of what tomorrow would bring, but it seemed farther and farther away as her mind drifted to her happy place. A land of fictional characters and next chapter predictions. Storylines and plot twists drifted through her mind just as the whispering window began to die down, and her heart relaxed. It was a temporary fix to an ongoing problem, but as her mind drifted to sleep she couldn't help but smile from the short term relief.
2:05am.
The roof tiles squeaked under his feet, but yet the world around him was quiet and still. The stars gleamed brightly in contrast with the dark night sky. 21 years later and the same sky still took his breath away. Laying on his back Stiles stared up into the night air trying to figure out how Astraeus, god of the stars, arranged each and every star. The wind whistled and whispered against his ears telling him stories of gods and how they made the world around him. His mind scolded him, telling the boy it was way too late for adventures on to the roof. Back in his room the bed in the corner yearned for him to come close his eyes, but that wasn't Stiles' plan.
Pulling a blunt from his flannel pocket, Stiles lite it and slowly took a drag. He knew that this would be one of his last for the time being. Move in day was just beyond the sunrise. Morning marked the beginning of his junior year in college, and Stiles was more than ready. 21 years in Beacon Hills, and yet this place had become less of a home in recent years. It hadn't been home since she passed.
2:42am.
Another drag and another attempt to count the stars. He felt his body relaxing, and his mind stopped yelling. The bed was quiet in it's corner, and his heart skipped a beat as a feeling of peace engulfed him. The night was his safety blanket, a security that only came when the sun went down. Darkness hid way all the imperfections that seemed to be on display during the day. Nighttime was the only part of those 24 hour days that Stiles Stilinski actually felt alive. Every night he wondered just how much force it would take for him to drift away into the cosmos, and live out the rest of his days in the stars. Because that's what it would take, a life time amongst the planets and gods above to finally feel something again.
Because it's 3 in the morning and his thoughts are hazy. There was nothing but him and the stars, and all he wanted to do was drift away. Stiles Stilinski, son of the sheriff and no one else. On nights like these he pretends to be a son of Zeus himself. Stiles Stilinski, a man of little emotion, just a void that occasionally gets filled on nights like tonight. It's because on nights like this he looks up to the sky and watches as the stars align and create the image of his mother. Beautiful as ever, he watches memories of them flash across the sky, and for a brief moment he believes that everything is okay again. She smiles down at him, and then slowly begins to fade away. Reality is setting in; she's gone, and it's all because of him.
3:18am.
Stiles crawls back into his room with tears stinging the back of his eyes. The bed in the corner greets him warmly, and Stiles feels his body get heavy.
"I'm sorry Mom."
Three silent words spoken each and every night. An ongoing apology for the guilt that carved at his insides. The red numbers to his left blinked 3:23am as the world went dark, followed by soft snores from the broken boy settled in the corner.