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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It was a week later, after days spent putting together a collection of pieces for his display, that Stiles allowed himself to start work on the other wishes on Lydia's list.
He hadn't originally predicted that the showcase would be the most time consuming of the wishes—but upon the sudden realization, he'd been thankful to have been tackling the heavier tasks first. It got the anxiety out of the way early on the game.
That said, he was just as grateful to have something new to focus on. What, with it getting harder and harder to explain why he was constantly setting aside drawings of Lydia, especially when she seemed to pick up on it mere days into his personal endeavor.
It had grown to be a habit of hers to curl up against him while he worked on a sketch, and so it made sense that she would find it odd when he made a point to shield what he was working on, as if it were a secret she hadn't yet gained access to.
So he'd been happy to not have to worry about having to divert her attention for yet another night. Instead, he wouldn't have any worries for the near future, other than making sure the rest of the boxes on her list were checked off without a hitch.
It seemed like an easy enough plan—and while he was aware that most of his 'easy plans' as of late had turned out to be a lot harder to accomplish than they originally appeared—he decided not to let it be the one thing holding him back from making his girl's wishes come true.
He had to remind himself of that decision when he walked into Lydia's house to find Isaac and Natalie in a full blown screaming match. Something about not wanting he and Lydia's 'sperm donor' at graduation. Stiles always did have the best timing.
"I don't care what sorry apology he fed you through text, he's not coming!" Isaac seethed, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side.
"Isaac—"
"No, mom! He's never been there—even before he left. He doesn't get to be here now." Isaac shook his head, determination set in his brow and the rigid line of his jaw, though with the way he said it one might have sworn he were a beggar on his knees.
