Summer's Darling

• Chapter Five •

There's a different type of silence that Stiles actually does mind. The quiet doesn't bother him, but he wouldn't really describe this as quiet.

He'd rather call it being ignored.

For the first time in his life, Lydia's bedroom window is locked, sealing her away with no explanation and no response to his numerous knocks. He tries to text her, he's even called her house phone a few times, but it has been a week since Sunmer's Darling has even seen the sun. She answers the door for Scott one morning though, when Stiles hides around the corner to listen in on the conversation.

"Are you here for Stiles?" She immediately asks.
"No. School help." Scott replies and after a quick look around, Lydia invites him inside.

He spends the entire day in the Martin household and Stiles passes the time waiting for his return by beating Isaac at chess and nearly finishing one of the thick novels he had packed to read. The day drags on. He does not visit the beach, he does not gorge on turtles and taffy's, he does not even sit in front of the AC unit. Instead, he lay on his bedroom floor and wait. A week. A full week of no talking to Lydia Martin. Isaac barely addresses him for these past few days because they both know what's happening: their short summer is suddenly resurfacing. Stiles spends almost the entire day pondering about how she could have found out and a dark black pit settles in his stomach. He should have told her when he had the chance.

The front door opens but there's no conversation, there's no Lydia following. Stiles scrambles up and off of the floor, leaving his book behind, not even bothering to memorize where he is. Scott stands still by the door, his textbooks piled in hand, papers now sticking haphazardly from between their pages, and an almost pathetic look grazes over him.
"She didn't mention anything," Scott informs, crossing the room.
"Did you bring it up?"
"I tried."
"And?"
"She told me not to."
"Did you try again?"
"Yea. She wasn't having it."  Scott finally lands on the couch, immediately opening up his notes.

Stiles sighs, his gaze trailing along the floorboards and even he's not sure if he's frustrated or upset. No. Neither. He feels stupid. Completely and utterly foolish. He should've told her about their short summer as soon as it had happened. He wants to get back to the beach, to tug playfully at the string of Lydia's bathing suit and get sand and saltwater on his sheets and sneak into her room. And though Scott's only been home a few hours now, going over the scribbles Lydia had made in the margins of his notes, Stiles' moping around and heavy sighs are really starting to get on Scott's nerves. He texts Isaac in secret.

Scott: was he like this all day?

They're playing chess again, this time Isaac is winning, Stiles' head resting on the palm of his hand, elbow on the table as he half heartedly thinks of his next move.

Isaac: yea

Stiles' fingers toy with one of his bishops.
"Touch move!" Isaac calls out.
"Huh?"
"You touched the bishop; make your move."
All of a sudden there is life in Stiles, "no way! I didn't touch the bishop, I was hovering!"
"Hovering?" Scott adds from the couch, not even so much as glancing from his notes. He just wants to stir things up a bit in the hopes of getting his friend out of a funk.
"Yes, hovering, I am not moving my bishop. Besides, we never agreed to play like that."
Isaac leans back in his chair, "it doesn't matter if we agreed to play like that. In real chess, like the pros, you always do touch moves."
"That's ridiculous! This isn't pro chess, this is 'fuck you summer' chess, meaning: fuck you, it's summer, I'm not moving my bishop."
"Stiles, just move your piece. It's an unwritten rule."

Stiles stands quite abruptly, a serious look on his face and his tone is no longer playful. "Fuck. You."
This energy casts onto Isaac, an anger rising in his chest. "Are you serious?"
"Yes I'm serious: fuck you! You've ruined this summer. I can't believe I wanted to bring you again!"
"Stiles–" Scott tries to interject, but he's cut off.
"You're the reason this is happening. It's been a week since Lydia's said anything to me and it's your fault."
"Because of Malia?"
"YES!"
Isaac rolls his eyes, "you don't even know if that's what this is about."
"Of course that's what this is about! What the fuck would it be about if it wasn't Malia Tate?!"
"Well don't act like you're fucking innocent, Stiles, you were apart of that summer as much as I was too."

Just then, the doorbell rings, all heads turn to the front door. There's a pause in the air, a thick silence following the screams that filled the house all of two seconds ago. The boys exchanged a few looks, as if asking each other who was going to answer it. But they all knew. Cautiously, Stiles makes his way to the front door, the bell ringing once again on his way there. It's Lydia. He knows before he even touches the doorknob, but when the door is actually open it only confirms.

There's summer's darling girl before him. And he's doomed.