[ text; BRIGHT ]: shit, wait, i just woke up[ text; BRIGHT ]: have to get ready for work, just a sec[ text; BRIGHT ]: i’ll call you when i’m in the cab, babe

------ 1. 

recess was never particularly thrilling for stiles. he dragged scott to the field where some of the kids played a half-assed version of baseball, but it wasn’t as if he was that good at it. apparently, just because you love something with your whole heart, doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it right away. that proved to be just as true when a flash of strawberry blonde caught his eye on the swings. it flew through the air as she did, and stiles swears to this day that he saw it in slow motion. getting stuck in the outfield had been a blessing that day-- until the pop fly hit him right on the top of his head. the last thing he remembered was a flash of her pearly white teeth as she laughed at him as he went down.

         he saw that smile in his dreams for months.            he’s seen a version of that hair in his dreams for years.

------ 2.

high school was supposed to be scott and stiles’ time to finally shine. break out of that nerdy mold that middle school had forced them into. become new and hot and c o o l. he had donned a crisp new batman shirt that morning, muttering the quick facts he’d picked up about heath ledger from imdb to himself in the mirror, positive that this was going to be the day he’d say hello to lydia martin, and she’d say hello back. but the moment they pushed through the doors of beacon hills high, stiles’ rare optimism came crashing to the ground. 

she looked regal. complete with a king and a court. how had people flocked so quickly? he’d showed up at scott’s half an hour early and pulled his ass out of bed and everything, but still he could literally see the moment pack up and fly out the window.

she looked beautiful, though. he couldn’t quite stomach the disappointment quick enough to tell her that as scott’s hand clamped down on his shoulders and wheeled him past, but he thought it loud enough for her to hear, had she been listening. she hadn’t, of course. but if she had... 

------ 3.

on the week anniversary of jackson moving to london, stiles spotted lydia across the school parking lot. he guessed they’d both stayed late to study or something, but when he headed over to say hey and strike up a casual conversation (because he could do that now, right? they were...friends? they’d just been through some crazy kanima bullshit together, so that counted as something, right?) he realized that her quick pace wasn’t confidence. her head wasn’t bowed due to the biting wind. she was crying, and she probably wasn’t planning on anyone to see.

                    that didn’t stop stiles, though. it should have, but it didn’t.

“lydia!” he called into the void. “hey, are you--”

                                                                        “not now, stiles.”

the look she gave him didn’t match her biting words, though. her eyes looked greener, probably thanks to the redness around them, but she still looked incredible. the whole look was far from the trademarked death glare he’d gotten so used to over the years, which actually threw him off. he’d never seen her look so soft towards him. it made his stomach flip.

“i just...we could talk about it, if you want? i know how it feels to, uh, to lose someone.”

talk about it? why would he say that? he would rather she ran her over than listen to her talk about how sad she was that jackson wasn’t around anymo--

                                                                                                   “okay.”

        on second thought, roadkill could probably wait.

------ 4.

his mouth was d r y. dryer than the god damn sahara. something had jostled him awake, but the thought of getting up to get some water wasn’t quite worth it just yet. he had to wake up a little more. he had to want water more than he wanted to stay in his nice, comfy, warm bed.

he finally half-opened his eyes (that was as good as it was going to get) and moved to pull the blanket off of him, when he realized that the whole left side of him was being weighed down by something heavier than his usual pillow.

f u c k-- had someone come home with him last night?

how drunk had he gotten? more importantly, how drunk had she gotten? assuming it was a she, and not just scott forgetting where his room was...

okay, he was going to peek. he had to peek.

                           HOLY SHIT.

                                                            he peeked.

he had to peek again. there was no way that was right. he’d spent most of his life memorizing that strawberry blonde hair, there was NO WAY his brain wasn’t fucking with him just now. there was NO WAY that lydia fucking martin was resting her pretty little head on his chest right now, with her pale hand laid just under where his had just been. there was NO WAY those were her clothes in that pile he could barely make out on the floor a little ways away. there was just NO. FUCKING. WAY.

but he peeked again.

                                                   HOLY FUCK. 

there was a way. he didn’t for the fucking life of him know the way yet, but there was a way.

water could wait. life could wait. he was going to lay here and enjoy this moment and think really fucking hard about the previous night. he was going to remember every god damn detail. because there was NO WAY he had sex with lydia martin and forgot it.

     oh wait.

          no, he didn’t forget anything.

                 jesus christ, he hadn’t forgotten a single moment.

                       maybe it was time to go to the bathroom after all.

------ 5.

there was nothing particularly special about the moment right now. he was sitting, she was pouring some wine, they were having a quiet night together after a long day apart at school, dealing with their demons separately. now, they’d come together to talk about it, or get their minds off it. truthfully, it didn’t matter. they were just happy to be home and relaxed and comfortable with each other.

             but it suddenly struck stiles just how special it really was.

lydia martin had always been an unreachable goal. it wasn’t that he saw her as some abstract concept, he saw her as a person. maybe he was the only one for a while, but the truth was that he didn’t want the queen bee who pursed her lips at his eager smile and pretended not to hear when he said hello. he wanted her. the strawberry blonde hair and the brain underneath it. and she couldn’t even give him the time of day for so long.

and then she did, and that was enough for him, at least for a little while. she called him when she needed him, she not only spoke to him, but volleyed ideas with him. they became a team, because of course they did. stiles always knew they would have made a great team if she’d give him the chance, and she finally had, and he was happy with that. 

but now? after an unbelievable roller coaster, they were living together. they had a life together, just the two of them. they slept in the same bed, shared countless inside jokes and secrets and old stories filled with insecurities and sadness, but they built each other up. they kissed each other better, and supported each other for their individual present and future.

stiles had always loved lydia. and now, in their living room, stiles realized for the millionth time how wonderful it was that lydia loved stiles, too.

for once, though, he was at a loss for words. the moment didn’t seem to hold the depth for a long speech akin to wedding vows. so, he stood up and walked to her. his fingers ran through her hair as she put the bottle down on the counter, turning to give him a quizzical smile. before she could say anything, though, he kissed her so tenderly that she immediately knew something had gone through his mind. he made sure to notice all the little things he’d begun to take for granted as their intertwined lives became more and more normal-- the way her hands lightly grasped his torso and the way she smiled as he pulled away. her eyes, searching his in their close proximity. she was looking for answers, but he wasn’t really in the mood to give any. so he gave his usual stiles smirk and shrugged, instead. 

                                 “you’re beautiful. that’s all. go back to what you were doing.”

               “you have to  w a k e  u p, lydia.”

his voice was low to make sure he didn’t disturb the ghosts in eichen house-- his own metaphorical ones, mostly, but if there really were ghosts, he wouldn’t be surprised. nothing surprised him anymore. except the vacant look in lydia’s eyes. that always surprised him. haunted him, actually. 

under the familiar strawberry blonde hair, she looked nothing like what he was used to. years of figuring out what every single mask lydia wore couldn’t have prepared him for the absence of any mask at all. catatonic wasn’t necessarily a bad look on her (because let’s face it, nothing was), but stiles preferred basically any sign of life on her face and recognition in her eyes rather than this seemingly perpetual nothingness. he would take post-sophomore-year death glares any day over this.

                                          “we need you.” 

his voice held a lot of certainty. things had been all sorts of messy since lydia had been out of commission, and stiles was smart enough to know that it was more of a coincidence than anything else, but the big ol’ hole in his heart felt differently. things were still on rocky terrain where scott was concerned, and while they were working on getting their footing back it seemed like someone was pulling the rug out from under them each and every day. 

coming to the place that held all his nightmares, all his insecurities, all his guilt had become the highlight of each day because lydia was there. even when things looked bad for her, she was still his person. and he still wanted to be hers. even if he was totally unsure if she could even register his words. still, with that, it didn’t stop him from whispering the next words out of his mouth.

                                                                       “i need you.”

he held his breath as he watched her eyes, waiting for some kind of fairytale plot twist. maybe if she heard the pain in his voice, the desperation in his words, maybe it would be enough to come back to the land of the living. maybe her eyes would finally find focus on his face rather than staring through him. maybe her lips would pull together to form even the smallest of smiles at him, and her hand would tighten around his for once, and he’d know that everything was on it’s way to getting better. maybe not quite there yet, but close.

several minutes passed before he came to terms with the fact that that was just not going to happen now, or maybe ever. at least for now, though, the moment had passed. staring at her unmoving face had proven fruitless once again. a wave of sadness, frustration, and determination all washed over him at once as he made the realization that whatever he was trying wasn’t going to work. but something would. something had to. 

[text; BRIGHT]: no?[text; BRIGHT]: i just want to eat doritos and chill[text; BRIGHT]: but i don’t have the doritos

[text; BRIGHT]: we’re not even married[text; BRIGHT]: my mom’s gonna kill me[text; BRIGHT]: PREGNANT????[text; BRIGHT]: ARE YOU SERIOUS?[text; BRIGHT]: WE MIGHT HAVE A CHILD??!![text; BRIGHT]: do i get a day off for this?[text; BRIGHT]: wait i’m my own boss, i’m coming home now

TEXT RECEIVED 9:07 AM FROM Lydia Martin, The:                I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night.

Stiles had first seen the notification around the time she’d sent it, since it wasn’t as if he slept anymore anyway. But he had been sure it was part of some lucid dream he’d fallen into, so when he woke back up a few hours later to find that the text was very real and still sitting untouched-- thank god, his read receipts were on, for fucks sake, sufficed to say he was at least a little shaken. 

There was truly no logical way to reply to the text, but he wasn’t sure just leaving it ignored would be smart either. It was sent in the morning, so unless Lydia had taken up some scary habits in the weeks they’d been apart so she could doink Max, it wasn’t a drunk text. She’d meant to send this to him, she’d meant for him to see it. Did this mean she wanted him to know her apparent better beau wasn’t so great after all? It got to a point where Stiles had stared at the damn words for so long that it didn’t even seem worth overthinking anymore, and yet, here he was. It wasn’t long after he’d bounced back and forth in his head a hundred more times that he finally typed out the only thing he could think of-- even if it wasn’t as sensitive as old, starstruck, lovesick Stiles would have said it.

TEXT SENT 11:43 AM:                Almost? Shame.

He gripped his phone in his hand though he told himself that everything was fine. His head and his pounding heart couldn’t quite seem to come to an agreement, and that’s pretty much how he sat, staring at the television but not actually watching it until his phone finally buzzed.

TEXT RECEIVED 11:56 AM FROM Lydia Martin, The:                I meant to send that to Allison.

you dealt with littles while on three and a half hours of sleep? RESPECT. i require an eight hour minimum when school is in session.

it was a NIGHTMARE but i survived. i was even pretty good in the morning, mood wise, but by the end of the day...... it was rough. ranting under the cut because i’m having a moment.

you’re welcome! now go get some rest and make it through this week so you can return to the land of the living.