"I'm feeling very vivacious in this moment so I swear to god, Allison, if you say anything to ruin this mood I will not hesitate to stab you." Stiles speaks from his upside down position on the couch as the front door opens and closes. The dark haired girl smiles while shaking her head.
"Vivacious?" She asks while making her way to the living room.
"Full of life and good spirits." He mumbles. Allison nods, taking a seat across from him on the shaggy old rug with too many colors to count.
"So why are you feeling vivacious?" Allison picks at her nail polish.
"Fair question. It may or may not have to do with the fact that I skipped first to walk around with Malia." He smiles proudly. Allison gasps and starts to frequently question the level of coolness her best friend was on. The two go on for a while, tv playing faintly in the background as warm smile were exchanged along with lots of questions about the boys up coming relationship.
A scream along with several crashing sounds from upstairs interrupts them and Stiles fumbles to his feet. "Lydia?!" He exchanges a concerned look with Allison before both of them bolt upstairs, Stiles in the lead. They start to head towards Lydia's room only to notice the door was open so the both go to the bathroom. Stiles was ready to yank open the door when Allison smacked away his wrist.
"She's a girl. Me first." She rolls her eyes, knocking on the door before opening it when there's no response.
"I-I didn't mean to. I didn't..." Lydia sniffles causing Stiles to come into the bathroom as well. There was a broken mirror on the floor, a few shards sticking out of her right hand that was now shaking and bleeding. Stiles grabs her wrist lightly to examine her palm while instructing Allison to find the first aid and a broom.
Lydia sniffles again. "I'm gonna take them out, okay?" Stiles speaks gently as Lydia nods with a tear in her eye.
She flinches as he takes hold of the first piece and starts to remove it. How the hell did this freaking happen? Stiles had no clue but it didn't really matter in the moment. By the time the third piece was out, Allison had returned with the kit and the broom just as Stiles notices Lydia wasn't wearing any shoes.
"Did you step on any?" He asks, the girl held her shaking wrist and bloodied palm in replacement of where his own hand had been. She shakes her head. With a sigh, Stiles looks at all the broken mirror on the ground while trying to decide how to get her out of the bathroom. Sure they could sweep around her, but there was the possibility they would miss a piece or two and he needed to wrap up her hand soon.
With a sigh, Stiles picks her up bridal style with some hesitation, and carries her out of the bathroom. Lydia was surprised but clung to him none the less.
"Allison would you mind cleaning that up?" He asks to which the girl tosses him the first aid and grabs the broom. His hand found the small of her back as he lead them into her room, sitting Lydia on the bed with Stiles right next to her. They were silent, the air tense and their bodies seemingly too warm for the cold air around them 'cause this wasn't a regular occurrence.
Stiles picks up her hand once again and begins to clean up her wounds before wrapping it up. Lydia tries her best to avoid his eyes as he glances up at her every now and then, her gaze set on counting and recounting her books repeatedly.
"You're all good." Stiles sighs, returning everything to the first aid kit and this time she does watch him as he stands.
He was much taller than she remembered but then again he'd never really been this close. There was even more silence as Stiles tried and failed several times to close the kit to the point where he just left the room without closing it.
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Tuesday's are basically just Monday's ugly twin sister.
Everyone is hungover from Monday's homework and the halls look like a scene from Dawn of the Dead. Stiles slams his locker door closed before banging his head against the metal with a groan.
"Why do you look so tired?" Scott asks.
"I stayed up till two in the morning watching a documentary about snakes." Stiles mumbles.
"Someone leads an exciting life." Scott laughs, earning himself a punch to the arm. Stiles may have failed to mention how hot the British woman on the documentary sounded. But Scott didn't really need to know that either. The first bell rings and the boys make their way down the hall towards Chemistry, Stiles praying to God that Isaac Lahey wouldn't speak a word to him. And he didn't. In fact, the curly haired boy chose a desk two rows away.
Classes went by faster than usual, a nap in math, a video in history which was followed by another nap, and by the end of the day Stiles was glad his last class was Econ. As he strolled into class, Stiles immediately caught sight of Malia and if it weren't for assigned seats the boy would've been in the desk right next to her. She passed him a note once or twice with some of the neatest cursive writing he'd ever seen and he would toss it back to her with a scribbled response that was barely legible.
The last bell rang, half the class literally running out of the school while others tiredly gathered their things. He felt Malia poke his side as she passed, looking over her shoulder with a grin as he watched her leave. The air outside was warm with the promise of a hot summer and he shed his jacket on the walk to the baby blue jeep. Two miles away from the school, Stiles presses on the breaks and stares out his window at an old building to his left.
He passed by the old diner everyday on his way home from hell, looking through the large glass window as he stopped at the light that never failed to turn red. Stiles didn't usually see anyone he knew, a few people he'd come to realize were regulars and he would give them names based on their appearances.
But this time there were two people sitting in a small booth by the window that Stiles was sure he knew. An older man nearing his fifties and a young girl with curls of strawberry blonde topping her head. And Stiles was quickly furious. He licked his lips, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and as soon as the light turned green, he spun out with the tires making a screech on the pavement.
But it was worse when he got home.
Stiles had made a quick detour to the gas station which only gave his anger more time to grow as he thought about it more. As soon as the front door slammed closed, the sheriff knew something was wrong. His son was hardly ever mad but when he was, it definitely wasn't half-assed. Throwing his backpack to the ground he goes to the living room where Mr.Stilinski sat innocently on the couch.
"Why?" Stiles' voice was weak and tired but stern.
Confusion spreads across the mans face. "Why what?" He asks.
"You know damn well what." Stiles practically yells. Upstairs Lydia had opened her door as quietly as possible, crawling to the top of the stairs to get a better listen. She didn't normally listen in to private conversation but somehow she knew part of this had to do with her.
"I'm not sure I do."
"You took her to Moms diner, Dad!" He does yell this time. Mr.Stilinski knew he was in the fault now. They hadn't been to the diner in years, occasionally a few times right after Claudia had passed but one day Stiles had had enough of trying to pretend his mother was still there and he refused to go.
Some days he regretted it, like when he got in a sorrowful mood and needed the comfort of the diner, the familiarity.
The Sherriff sighs, standing. "Stiles, I–"
"You can't just pretend she's a part of this family!" He interrupts causing his fathers face to drop even more than it previously had. It was too late to take it back now.
Stiles storms upstairs in a hurry, tugging at his hair in an angry manner. He stops in front of her room, the door open a crack to reveal bits of strawberry blonde hair and porcelain skin. Stiles could tell she was hurt, his expression relaxing a little and he begun to feel bad. It wasn't her fault, wasn't anyone's fault really, but the diner was a sacred place for him. One of the last things he shared with his mother.
He wanted to apologize, opening his mouth slightly but instead he lowers his gaze and continues to venture to his room. Duffel bag, clothes, charger, toothbrush.... caramel eyes glance at the hoodie hanging off the back of his chair and he snatches it up, deciding to write a quick note as well. As he slams his door closed, he throws the hoodie on the ground outside of Lydia's doorway before hurrying down the stairs as quick as he had come up.
"Where are you going?" Mr.Stilinski asks as Stiles searches for his keys, duffle bag in had and ready to go.
"Allison's." The simple one word answer.
"When will you be back?" His father continues as the boy finds his keys on the small table next to the stairway and flings open the front door.
"Don't know, doesn't matter."
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Authors note:
I was going to say something important but then I forgot.....whoops?
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe
YOU ARE READING
Lydia's Shy (completed)
FanfictionShe'd been providing for herself since the age of fourteen when her parents had died tragically in a car accident. But now, two years late at the age of sixteen, she finally has a place to call home. Lydia was shy. Very, extremely, inevitably, shy...
