The Unfortunate Happening of Us

chapter three.

Lydia's room. 

A place Stiles had been only once in his entire life. Back when he, Scott, and Issac were still friends. They'd been playing a game of indoor soccer, and Issac had kicked the ball into Lydia's room by accident. Stiles had run to retrieve it, and she'd screamed, throwing her Barbie doll at the boy who at the time was presumed to have cooties. Stiles had gone home with a goofy grin and a bruise on his forehead, to which his parents weren't too happy about.

A lot had changed since then, and not just the fact that they were no longer 7.

There was a lot you could tell about a person from their room. For example, Stiles' room was a clutter of clothes, homework, video games, and sketches. Pretty much summed up himself in entirety. He was disorganized and careless. School was of much importance to him, and art was something he was constantly surrounded by. The video games part was just a bonus. Something that said: I also speak male teenager.

Lydia's room?

It was neat. Almost too neat. Yet also cluttered?

Stiles couldn't decide on a word. You could see the floors, but the surfaces seemed a bit cramped. Shelves, desks, window sills, all coated in neatly stacked books. He was pretty sure they were color coded. Either that or alphabetical. Some were worn, and some were so new he could still see the shine on the outer cover. There were posters, lots of them. Variations from bands to one singular poster of Spider-Man. Which, Stiles couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at in appreciation. Her walls were a dark grey, the lower half white. Her windowsill was filled with black and white pillows, and covered by see through white curtains. Stiles didn't see the point of them. Why have curtains if you can see through them? He figured it was a Lydia thing. The bed, neatly made, fitting the same color scheme, except for a single pink stuffed bear smack in the middle of her pillows.

Stiles' eyes widened and he scoffed a laugh. "No way, Mr. Muffles?"

Mr. Muffles had also been a very small memory of Stiles about Lydia. He'd never spoken a word to her, but he remembered the little bear she'd used to carry around with her around the house. Like a security blanket. Issac always used to try and steal it from her, passing it like a football to Scott and Stiles as Lydia jumped for it in the middle. Stiles never failed to be the one who caved and silently gave it back. Lydia had always run away after, leaving him to deal with the betrayed look of Issac and Scott alone. Now that he thought about it, all of their interactions when they were younger had pretty much been Stiles reaching out, and Lydia running away. Maybe things hadn't changed that much.