Lydia's Shy (completed)

17. Basorexia Again

Friday had gone the same as the rest of the week: boring and uneventful.

Basorexia, Stiles would write in his journal, the overwhelming desire to kiss.
"Again and again and again..." He would mumble before dropping his head on his desk with a defeated groan. Isn't spring break supposed to be fun and eventful? When Lydia called his name, he was at the bathroom in an instant, sitting down in his usual spot by the tub. They didn't talk about it, they didn't need to. The two teens sat as the normally would, Stiles reading from her book this time, and every now and again Lydia would cough only confirming that she was getting sick but no one paid it any special attention.

Stiles didn't quite understand the concept of her current novel so he asked too many questions that eventually lead to Lydia commanding he just put the book down and shut up. So he did. Silence overtook them, neither really minding it. The boy picked at the threads in the bath mat with his back to her while the girl sighed, beginning to count the tiles on the wall.

Both would think of the other.

She had soft lips and a smile that was so burnt into his memory it almost became annoying but it never did. Strawberries seemingly surrounded her and as the seasons changed from spring to summer it mixed with roses. Her nails were always painted grey, her hair always in curls, her eyes always finding his in one way or another.

He was clumsy, never failing to make her laugh at times a little arrogant and very sarcastic. Smart. The boy she liked was very smart, the old composition book full of extravagant words proved so. He understood her, gave her space when she needed it, didn't question her past. Because though her past made her who she was now, it didn't make her who she's always been. And to most that won't make sense. But to him it did.

They weren't in love per-say but they did love each other. Strongly. Deeply. Carefully. Lydia was delicate and Stiles handled her that way even though he knows she's strong and he tells her that often because he also knows she hates feeling weak. In fact, there were a lot of things he knew about the girl. He knew she could finish seventeen books in fourteen days. He knew she needed him to stay floating. He knew her favorite place was the kitchen counter, she was horrible at driving stick, she grinned brighter and more beautiful than the sun itself.

And he knew what her lips felt like against his.

"Again and again and again..." He speaks under his breath before chuckling, drawing Lydia's attention to him.
"Hm?" She gives a questioning hum, resting her chin on the tub. Stiles turns around, doing the same and their noses almost touch.
"Nothing." He chuckles.
"You said something."
He shrugs.
"No come on, what'd you say?" She pushes. Stiles shifts in his place again, moving to where their noses are touching now.

"Nothing..." He whispers. Lydia smiles anyway, kissing his nose instead before requesting for him to leave so she could get out.
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"Hey Lydia." Scott greets but the girl bolts upstairs upon his arrival. He didn't find it abnormal, shrugging it off while wandering into the living room. Muttering a some form of hello to Stiles, Scott makes his way to the kitchen in search of food. Two more days and they'd be sent back to hell but until then, there was something that needed to happen.

"Why'd you call me over here?" Scott asks and Stiles pulls his head out of the fridge. There was something wrong. Why was there always something wrong?
"I need to go to the station. But I,uh, I can't do it alone..." Stiles speaks quietly and glances upstairs. He was nervous. But it needed to be done. He let Scott drive the jeep (it had been fixed earlier that day) which is when his friend knew it was serious, Stiles' forehead resting against the glass as the thought rolled around in his mind. It had been eating at him for days and he knew Lydia would hate him.

He knew it.

"Hey, Dad." Stiles sighs, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. The sheriff lifts his eyes from some current paperwork to his son in the doorway. Scott lingered behind him, greeting a few officers that passed by but Stiles looked as though he might faint.
"Sit down." Mr.Stilinski gestures to a chair tenderly. Both boys accept his invitation, Scott closing the door to the office.

It takes him a while, to start talking, to start explaining. Only when he was nearing the end did Stiles dare look at his father. The man was distraught, his face falling with each word but it needed to be done.
He sighs once his son is finished. "Well, get Lydia down here."
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Authors note:

It doesn't even feel like a Friday and that bothers me.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe