Stiles stared at the bits of coffee floating around in the polystyrene cup in front of him. He could feel his eyes dropping, but he didn't want to sleep. He was too afraid of the nightmares that would take over his brain.
He knew he wasn't possessed any more. He was certain. But the more he looked at his reflection, his dark, tired eyes and his pale skin from the lack of food and sleep resembled the nogitsune and he was afraid those nightmares would return. And he knew his dreams would be about Lydia and he couldn't handle that right now.
Goosebumps produced on his arms as he thought about his poor strawberry-blonde beauty fighting for her life two floors above him. Fresh tears began to form and he knew he had to remain calm. Crying wasn't going to make it any better. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his phone and switched it on. He should let the pack know the latest details.
As soon as the screen lit, he was immediately hit with multiple missed calls from Scott, Melissa Kira and Derek. Exhaling, he picked up his coffee and left the cafeteria, heading for outside.
He called Scott first. It only took him two seconds to answer.
"Stiles!"
"Hey, Scott." Stiles croaked, the sound of his best friend's voice soothing him slightly.
"What's going on? Is she okay? I'm watching the news and they still haven't confirmed-"
"She's in surgery, Scott. It's 50/50." Stiles began, dodging a few people as he made his way through the automatic doors and out into the fresh Hawaiian air. "So much has gone wrong, too much."
"But...she's alive, right? Lydia's alive?" Scott pushed.
"Barely. Her jaw's broken, her arm is broken...broken ribs, fractured vertebrae, broken fingers, dislocated shoulder. She's snapped her ankle which has infected and could possibly be removed." Stiles rummaged his brain to remember what his father told him. He was too shocked to have been taking it all in. "She's lost so much weight, Scott...it's terrifying to think about. She's severely dehydrated, they said she could fall into a coma."
Scott remained silent as Stiles collapsed onto a bench just outside of the hospital.
"Oh my god." Stiles finally heard Scott choke out. "Shit."
Stiles swallowed and looked down at the ground, the coffee hot on his palm. "She could have brain damage, Scott. Her skull is fractured."
Scott fell silent again.
"She was dead when they found her." Stiles whispered, closing his eyes as he imagined her crumpled on the floor of an island miles away, all by herself. He could feel a lump form in his throat.
"This is like a horrible nightmare." Scott sniffed.
Stiles nodded before looking at his surroundings. He only just noticed the large group of photographers and reporters hassling the police that escorted him and his father to the hospital. His heart dropped.
"Scott...could you do me a favour?"
"Anything." Scott immediately replied.
"Could you let everyone back at home know? I can't do this call again." Stiles murmured, staring at the press.
"Of course, man. You alright?" Scott asked sheepishly.
"Yeah, I just need some air. I'll call you if anything changes, okay?" Stiles replied just as an elderly man perched himself on the bench.
"Alright, man. Speak soon."
Stiles hung up and placed his phone on his lap as he continued to glare at the growing bunch of reporters.
"They're like animals, aren't they." The elderly man mumbled.
Stiles quickly turned his head to face the man, watching him spark up a cigarette. He also noticed the IV drip stand next to the man, wires from his hand connecting them.
The man saw Stiles staring before holding out his pack of cigarettes. "You smoke, son?"
Stiles shook his head and smiled politely. "No, thank you."
"You look like you need one." The man smiled before bringing the cigarette to his mouth. Exhaling the smoke, he looked back over at the press. "I wouldn't want to be the poor bastard that has to deal with that. What a disgusting invasion of privacy."
Stiles swallowed as his fingers entangled together. "I agree."
"What you in for, kid?" The elderly man asked.
"Oh...er, my-my girlfriend. She's in surgery." Stiles stuttered as he watched the reporters and photographers edge closer while the police and nurses yelled at them to stay back.
"Your girl's the one that survived the plane crash, isn't she." The man coughed.
Stiles spun his head and glared at the man with shock.
"Your eyes read heartbreak. You look like you haven't slept in a month." The man sniffed. "I'm sick, son. Not stupid."
Stiles looked at the coffee in his hands which was slowly growing cold.
"She'll pull through." The elderly man nodded.
Stiles looked back at him, sceptical to agree with his statement.
"God is watching her." The man nodded. "He wouldn't allow her to be the only survivor of a plane crash and survive being stranded on an island for four weeks without food or water, for her to then reach land and die. He's got faith in her."
Stiles thought about it. He just assumed somebody up there was just being cruel to the red-head, in the worst possible ways.
"She's strong, so he'll help her pull through. Look at everything she's survived! A little surgery will be piss easy for her."
Stiles smiled at the elderly man.
"And he most certainly won't take her away from this earth, leaving a devastated family and a heartbroken young man to pick up the pieces. She's got too much going for her in this world to be leaving just yet."
Stiles liked this man. He wanted to converse more with him.
"But if God cared for her as much as you say, why would he put her through all this?" Stiles asked.
The man chuckled. "We expect God is in charge of everything. But even a powerful creature like him cannot prevent man made disasters. He can only do so much."
Stiles nodded.
"Kid, I've got three weeks to live, so they say. And I'm fine with that." The elderly man flicked his cigarette onto the ground. "I've done my time. God knows that. My family are up there with him. And if he wants me to join them, then so be it. He can take me now."
Stiles' skin grew cold as he watched the man look up into the starry night sky.
"But your girl isn't ready to leave yet. So have faith. Have faith in God, whether you believe in him or not, and have faith in her." The man smiled at Stiles. "And when she does pull through, my god, never let her go. She's invincible."
Stiles felt his heart tighten as he smiled at the elderly man. He was right. Lydia was invincible. Look what she was capable of.
Placing his untouched coffee on the ground, Stiles rubbed his eyes before standing up. "I'm Stiles, by the way. What's your name?"
The elderly man looked up at Stiles and chuckled. "Guy."
Stiles smiled. "Well, Guy, thank you. Thank you for everything you've said."
Guy took hold of Stiles' hand and shook it. "Go get your girl, Stiles."
Stiles grinned at the elderly man before rushing back into the hospital to avoid the photographers and reporters, heading straight for the elevator. He pressed the level he wanted and rubbed his tired eyes once more as the doors closed and the elevator lifted him up. Stiles leaned against the back wall as exhaustion tried its best to take over him but he kept his eyes wide and awake as the lift stopped and the doors opened. He was met with his equally tired-looking father.
"Stiles, she's out of surgery."