Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story so far! I love to hear what y'all think, so please keep reviewing! It means so much!
This chapter might not have a lot of Stiles, but I decided while writing that while this may be a "Stydia" story, it wouldn't do justice to Lydia's journey to have her fall right into his lap the second she rolls back into town. A lot has happened to the both of them while she's been gone that will be explored, as well as Lydia's relationships with the other people in her life. But don't worry, there will be some good moments in the next chapter! Again, thanks for reading!
The sun is rising by the time Lydia speeds past the ironically cheery "Welcome to Beacon Hills" sign. The whispers in her head, nearly silent the past few months, intensify in a wave so loud she has to close her eyes for a second to adjust. She had forgotten the threat of being here. So many people that could die, so many people that already had. And they loved talking to her.
The one she wants to hear the most, however, is nowhere to be heard.
Taking deep, gulping breaths, Lydia steers her car past all the places she had hoped to never see again. The hospital, where the nogistune had slaughtered an entire nursing staff. The high school, where she had been nearly choked to death, where she had kissed Stiles on the locker room floor, where she had first spotted Allison and decided immediately to be her best friend. The lacrosse field, where she had nearly died and where she had screamed in joy when Stiles had scored his first goal. There was no escaping the past here. She could see her friends everywhere. She could almost see the Lydia of old, heels tall and chin turned haughtily upward, right there alongside them.
As she pulls into her driveway, her childhood home looming in front of her, she lets out a small sigh of relief. She had made it. There was the issue of clothes and classes and a boy she had left behind, but right now she was just grateful that the long night was over.
She opens the front door as quietly as possible, her house key sticking a bit from disuse. It's early, the sun slanting in through the large bay windows in her kitchen. Enjoying the feeling of sunshine on her face, Lydia begins rummaging around, suddenly famished. She's halfway through frying bacon when her mom appears in the doorway, looking at her strangely, as though she might not be there at all.
"Lydia? Lydia, honey, what are you doing here? Oh god, what's happened to you?" She sounds so concerned that Lydia is suddenly afraid. What has happened to her? Does she not remember doing something? Is she covered in blood again?
She looks down at herself in response, gauging her appearance. Not the worst she's ever been, but not the best. Her feet are dirty from her run to her car and there's dried blood on her hands from where she had squeezed her fists tight, nails digging into her skin. She knows she must look half crazed from all her crying, too. But nothing too bad. Not death this time.
"Mom, don't freak out. I just…I needed to come home for a bit." Feeling a sudden rush of affection, she makes her way over to her mom, arms wrapping around her neck. Her mom squeezes her back instantly, and suddenly Lydia is five years old again. And she can't help but let a few tears escape.
"Mom…I don't think I'm okay. I'm not okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." She doesn't know why she's apologizing. Maybe for leaving. Maybe for not calling. But her mom just hugs her even tighter, hands braced against her back, supporting her even as her tears turn into sobs.
"Lydia, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was too soon, and that's okay. I love you, honey. So much."
She's never told her mom everything. And she probably never will. But this, right now, feels really good. She can get through seeing her old friends and hearing whispers in the dark if she has this. Suddenly, being home feels more right than it has in years.
The crackling of bacon makes her mom pull away with a start. Lydia can't help but give a watery laugh in response, moving to turn off the stove. Her mom moves instinctively too, reaching to get plates out of the cabinet, popping some toast in the toaster. She starts talking, filling Lydia in on all that she's missed, carefully circumventing any mention of the people Lydia wants to hear most about. And she's grateful.
...
Lydia has been laying in her bed for an hour. Her mom had insisted she try and sleep, but it's just not working. She's just not used to sleeping in a bed alone anymore. For the first time, she feels a rush of guilt about Dave. Feeling for her phone in the comforter, she grimaces when she turns it back on and reads through the text messages and missed calls popping up in a wave.
1:00 AM: Where did you go? What's going on?
1:10 AM: Lydia, where did you go? Please answer this. I'm really worried.
2:00 AM: Look, I know that I don't know everything about you. And obviously something is wrong. But I love you and we have to talk about this. Please talk to me.
4:30 AM: I love you. Call me, please.
Her stomach churns as she pictures his face illuminated by her headlights, pictures him waiting up all night for her to call. She's always loved people selfishly and he was no exception. But she still can't bring herself to respond, fingers hovering over the screen. What could she say?
My best friend died and I never told you. But now I can't handle it and I had to go home. Oh, and I've been in love with someone else since the day I met you.
Nothing feels fair or right. And so nothing is what she chooses to say, throwing her phone to the side and curling in on herself, praying for sleep.
...
Her mom looks at her concernedly as she makes her way downstairs.
"Are you sure you're up for this? Did you get enough sleep? I can drive you, if you want...Lydia, honey, that skirt is ridiculous." It's a strange mix of worry and chagrin and Lydia can't help but roll her eyes, feeling sixteen again.
"I'm fine, Mom. And yes, I know. But I left all my good clothes at school, remember?" As defensive as she sounds, she still tugs down her flouncy mini-skirt a bit. She had paired it with the largest cardigan she could find, trying her best to not feel like her high school self. And knee high boots were the only non-heeled shoes left in her closet. What had she been thinking back then?
Face tightening slightly at the mention of school, her mom nods. "Do you…do you want me to go get the clothes for you? Or call your roommate to box them up? I can do that…if you want to stay."
Lydia bites her lip, wondering what she should say. Besides Dave, she really had nothing for her there. But, really, she has no idea what she has left for her here. It's not like she can live in these clothes until she makes her decision, though.
"Yeah…yeah, if you could. That would be great."
Her mom can barely hide her smile.
...
She gets out of her car hesitantly, the wind catching in her hair. Besides that, there's no movement in the cemetery. She feels weird being here. She thought, before they buried Allison, that she would feel her more in this place. Maybe even see her, if she was lucky – she didn't know the full extent of her powers. But every time she had come here, she had been overwhelmed by the emptiness of it. Still, today was the kind of day where you braved those feelings.
They had buried her next to her mom. They had had such a complicated relationship that Lydia always found it disconcerting to see their names side by side on such a final piece of stone. But here she was. Allison Argent. Originally, Lydia had questioned whether she should be buried here at all. But Chris Argent had been clear that this family, despite everything that had happened, had never felt more at home anywhere else.
She hadn't brought flowers and she doesn't really know what to do with herself. She wants to feel close to Allison, but she doesn't know how. She thinks about her, all alone underneath the dirt. Lydia hates the idea of her being alone. Without thinking, she unceremoniously lays herself down on the ground, back pressed against the soft grass.
When she's looking up at the sky, she can nearly forget she's in a graveyard – that Allison lays six feet beneath her, silent to the world. It's pretty here, and peaceful. And the sky is so so blue. Suddenly, she's reminded of a conversation from long ago. She had been insisting that pink was the perfect color to brighten Allison's room, and Allison had been convinced that blue would look beautiful. To her, the blue of the sky above her head and the blue from her memories is the same.
Now even the sky hurts to look at. So she closes her eyes, picturing Allison laying beside her instead.
...
She's startled by a low cough. Lydia sits up quickly, eyes shooting open only to land on Scott McCall, pathetic looking flowers clutched in hand, looking a little shocked. For a second, they just stare at each other – her still sitting on Allison's grave, him wondering whether or not he should say something first. Eventually, he reaches out a hand, pulling her up to her feet. Without wasting any time, he's giving her a bone-crushing hug.
"Lydia! Oh my god, you're here! Wait, why are you here?!" He's pulling away from her just as quickly, momentarily forgetting why he's standing in a graveyard – he looks nearly joyful at seeing her again.
She can't help but smile back softly, tugging her cardigan around her frame protectively.
"It felt like I should be here today, you know?"
Scott nods in understanding at that, face somber once again. He reaches out a hand to catch one of hers comfortingly, and she can't help but squeeze his fingers slightly. Oh, Scott. She had really missed her friend.
"It's been hard without you, Lydia. We all missed you so much…how long are you here?" He sounds resigned, as though he knows this conversation won't last long. Lydia realizes that everyone is used to her running now. Used to her not answering calls, used to her not being there to witness their lives. That thought propels her into saying something she might regret later.
"Actually, I think I might be staying. For good."
Scott's smile is almost worth the nerves her statement sets off her in stomach.
...
Apparently, Scott hadn't found it as weird as Lydia had thought to find her sitting on his ex-girlfriend's grave. They had been sprawled out, facing each other, catching up next to Allison's tombstone for a while now. He never said it, but Lydia thought it was as though he was trying to include her in some way in their reunion. The thought made her happy. She knew Allison would be happy too.
"So how is everyone? How's Kira?" she questions, nudging him slightly, grinning. She liked Kira quite a lot, and she knew Allison had too. Scott deserved to be happy.
He blushes in response, nudging her right back. "She's fine, she's fine! She's going to be so excited to see you again, actually. Expect a lot of pizza nights with us. I mean, if you want."
Lydia doesn't know the last time she wanted anything more.
"I definitely want. But now you're going to have to start ordering the vegetarian again."
Scott makes a face, opening his mouth to retort before they both hear a car door slam. Whirling around to find the source of the noise, Lydia finds herself staring at a blue Jeep and suddenly the world is tilting strangely and her heart is racing. She wasn't ready. She couldn't do this. And she's still wearing this ridiculous skirt.
"Oh shit," Scott mutters from behind her, a reminder of both the way she left things and that she should really learn to control her nerves around a werewolf.
Oh shit is right.