Hostalgia: (n.) rage that derives from never being able to get things back from your past that you feel nostalgic about; anger over the irretrievability of the past.
Lydia didn't want to believe it, but she also really did. Just earlier that day, Lydia had come across some old photos. Some of her and her friends, before all of this supernatural craziness happened. Some of her and Jackson when they were still together. Some of her and Stiles, most likely taken by other members of the pack.
She felt very nostalgic about the photos, the original pack. The good old days when it was just Scott, Stiles, Allison, Jackson, and her. She craved the days of the past where things were still so simple. And then she came across ones of the bigger pack, more family, Scott, Stiles, Allison, Jackson, her, Derek, Isaac, Erika, Boyd, some of them even had Allison's dad, Chris, in them.
Out of the nine people, only three remained, Half of the others dead, and the other half moved away. She missed them all so much.
Then, she stumbled upon the ones she thought she had locked away, hidden deep so she would never see them again. The ones of her and Allison, her best friends, her dead best friend.
She didn't understand how everyone could be so okay, so at peace, with Allison's death, while she lost her mind, because not only did her best friend die, but she blamed herself for it. 'Allison died because she came to save me, if she hadn't of been there, she would still be alive and smiling.' Lydia told herself over and over and over again to the point where it was like it was etched into her skull and into her skin for her to see everyday.
But now, Allison Argent, her best friend, who died coming to save her, was standing in Lydia's room in the clothes she was buried in, looking at Lydia like the strawberry blonde was out of her mind for suggesting that she could be dead. Because she's obviously not, seeing as to how she's standing in Lydia's room, wearing the clothes she was buried in a year ago.
"Do you mind lending me some clothes? I have no idea why I'm wearing a dress." Asked Allison, the first the break the deafening silence.
"Yeah, just pick some pyjamas out of the dresser, it's late, we should get some sleep." Responded Lydia, now feeling absolutely exhausted from the day's events.
"Thanks, Lyds." Allison smiled as she went over to Lydia's dresser and grabbed some pyjamas for her to sleep in.
Allison laid next to Lydia in the strawberry blonde's bed. Allison quickly fell asleep, but Lydia laid awake, staring at the ceiling with her hardly blinking green eyes.
It was just like the old days, she really missed having Allison by her side, it made things feel okay, but she knew they would never be. Scott would have questions, lots of them, and Stiles would be very confused, but Allison would have the most questions. Where's here dad? Mexico. Where's Isaac? France, he left after you died. Why aren't we in school? We graduated last year, without you. Too many questions.
But, all she had ever wished for, was Allison back. Birthday wishes, 11:11, shooting stars, every time, she wished for Allison.
Looks like she got what she wished for.
YOU ARE READING
Amaranth ⚢ Allydia
Fanfiction"Lydia, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" "I know that Alli. That is what's scaring me. I can, but I shouldn't be able to. You are dead. You died last year." In which Allison Argent mysteriously appears out of nowhere after be...
