It's Senior Year, and Stiles Stilinski has a plan:
1. Apply and Get-In to BSU early admissions
2. Continue to stay off everyone else's radar
3. Graduate
There. An easy plan to survive the 195 days left before he graduates, and can thereby ridden hi...
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When Stiles had bursted through Lydia's room that afternoon, he was beaming. As in, full on, ear to ear, grinning. In one hand was a grease stained bag of curly fries, and in the other he was managing to hold two classic Coke bottles. Glass and all. He'd gone through the trouble of going to the local corner store to get the damn things, and they'd been $2.00 a pop just for the fact they were glass— but, it was worth it. Because when he'd bursted through Lydia's room that afternoon, he'd arrived with the intention to celebrate two things. First, the lifting of his banishment from visitation, and second, he had a date with Cora freaking Hale!
Okay, so it wasn't until next week, and they hadn't officially called it a date, but it was heavily implied, and for that Stiles sought it as a reason to celebrate.
On his way over to Lydia's he'd had the entire scenario out in his head. He'd arrive, beaming (as he had done) and then Lydia would laugh at his goofy grin, and ask him to what she owed his visit? Stiles would explain his two reasons for his fancy return, then Lydia would gasp and get really excited, in the way that only she could— and he'd probably flush, because her being excited would make it more real. So he'd probably begin to freak out and panic, because holy shit he was actually going to a party with Cora Hale!— but, it would be the best freak out of his life, because of that same exact reason— and he would be sharing the entire moment with Lydia. Perfect scenario. Check.
It was great.
Only it wasn't.
Because that scenario didn't happen.
Instead, when Stiles burst into Lydia's room, beaming— the smile on his face had instantly dropped, his arms lowering, and the combination of both the bag and drinks felt heavier in his hold. Everything changed in a matter of seconds.
Although, how could it not?
Lydia was curled up by her window, head cloaked in a short turquoise wig, and tears pouring from her eyes. Her light sobs were heard even over the rain fall that had begun outside, creating dewy droplets on the glass. Her hand slowly lifted, unfolding from its fist, as her fingers grazed over the glass in a delicate fashion. Stiles felt like he was invading. As though this moment wasn't meant for his viewing. All the thoughts he'd had of celebrating had vanished from his mind, and all he could do was feel the pain growing in his chest just watching the girl before him. She'd been sick for a while, but she'd never looked so weak. So vulnerable. So broken.
