#jacksonlydia

She’s smart enough, analytical enough, to understand why it hasn’t. She understands that Jackson learned he had been adopted, that his parents weren’t the people whose genetic code made up his and Lydia could understand on a scientific, objective level, how that might have messed him up a little bit inside. And she partially blamed the Whittemores, who instead of showing their love to their adopted son, had showered him with gifts and monetary affection.

But a lot of it had to do with deeply rooted issues within Jackson himself, and there was no one to blame for those except Jackson, and his birth parents. Lydia couldn’t be sure they were genetic, but Jackson hated the word, hated the emotion of loving people, so much that it had taken a long time for him to let her in, and even now he struggled to express it.

Lydia loved him so much. She had risked her life, had done everything she possibly could to save him, and now, he was okay. Jackson was okay. A werewolf, and a blue-eyed one at that, but he was okay.  But he still couldn’t say the words, and they were the only words Lydia needed to hear like she needed the slight percentage of oxygen that exists in atmospheric air, like she needed the simple glucose molecules that complex carbohydrates in her food got broken down into, like she needed the hydrogen bonds to exist to form water. She needed to hear Jackson say that he loved her.

She confided this fact in Stiles, because Stiles was the only person she truly trusted anymore. Allison was….gone, and Erica, well, she wasn’t a good choice to talk about feelings with. Stiles, on the other hand, he was a great listener.  And there was the quiet fact that he and Derek were in love with each other and denying it.

It wasn’t until the night before summer that anything changed. It was then that Lydia walked out back behind the Hale house, during the pack’s end of the school year soiree, and saw Stiles of all people shoving the pack beta against a tree. “Do you love her?” He asked, his voice quiet and un-Stiles- like. “Do. You. Love. Her?”

Lydia was going to kill him, until she heard Jackson softly say, “Yes.”

“Then tell her.” Stiles stepped back, crossing his arms. “I’ve loved her for the last ten years of my life, Jackson, and if I thought she’d listen, I’d tell her. She loves you, she needs to hear it.”

“I don’t… I can’t…” Jackson runs his hands into his hair and stares at Stiles, “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what? That she won’t love you back? She already does.”

“No, fucker, that she’s going to walk away from me.”

“She won’t.” Stiles said, resting his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “She won’t walk away from you because she loves you.”

Jackson nods, and they embrace, in the bro-hug kind of way that Lydia doesn’t really understand. And then Jackson catches Lydia’s scent and Lydia disappears back into the house.

And she starts to wait for it. Waits for Jackson to say it. She goes off to college at MIT, and Jackson gets into Harvard because of his adopted-Dad and his lacrosse skills. And Stiles goes to Berkley, and Scott and Isaac go to UCLA, on lacrosse scholarships. She keeps waiting. She loves him. And he loves her, but she aches to hear the words.

She waits until she meets another boy, a boy with blond hair and a smile. She waits until their schedules were too busy that she and Jackson struggled to find time to see each other. She waits until Matt (she laughed at the irony of that being his name) says that he loves her. And that he understands if she can’t be with him. She kisses him and cries afterwards because even after all of this, she still loves Jackson, even if Jackson won’t fucking tell her that he loves her.

Jackson is furious the first time he smells Matt on Lydia, on her lips, on her body. And Lydia cries and apologizes and walks away because she can’t do this anymore. She calls Stiles and cries to him, because Stiles understands. Of course now, he has his emotionally stunted, beautiful Werewolf, who loves him and tells him and leaves marks on his skin to tell him, but he understands because it hasn’t always been that way.

It’s the middle of the night when it finally happens, and Lydia is tucked into bed with Matt who is whispering how much he loves her into her ear when Jackson knocks on the door and calls out Lydia’s name.

Lydia stands to answer the door, and stares at him, “Yes, Jackson?”

“I love you.” Jackson chokes out, “I love you, Lydia Martin.” He says, he hates the stench of Matt, he hates that Lydia is covered it.

Lydia breaks into sobs and stares at Jackson and shakes her head, “I love you too, Jackson.” She hears a sharp intake of breath behind her, “I do love you, but…” Her left hand raises and she stares at the ring. “But you took too long.”

Later that night, Lydia pretends to ignore the sad howl of the lone wolf that rips through the quiet.