He spent the rest of the week cooped up in that room with her. Because if she couldn't go anywhere, neither would he. Stiles skipped classes, despite Lydia's protests (as well as a few from his father). He slept across three chairs in the lobby or in the recliner in her room, occasionally even on the floor or in bed with her. But he felt the latter made her uncomfortable so he took the floor with pride when she would squirm to get comfortable in the small bed.
He only went home for split seconds; take a shower, change clothes, and he even brought her a book and some cards so they could play games. Scott's mom was one of two nurses assigned to help care for her, which he was thankful for since the other was a bitch and often got on to him for sleeping here. He'd flip her off behind her back.
"She needs to lay off." He'd grumble, playing one of the cards in his hand and Lydia would chuckle. Stiles tried to make her smile, not laugh. He was always afraid when she laughed. One time he had her clutching her side, her face turning red as she bellowed. The laughter quickly turned into harsh coughing that she couldn't really control and Stiles had to retrieve a nurse. Watching with solemn eyes from the doorway, Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. The nurses were quick to calm her down, giving her some sleeping medication before leaving.
They often did that. If Lydia had a fit: sleeping medication. Didn't have an appetite: pop some pills! Sure that'll make it better...note the sarcasm. The result of this was that Lydia was always tired and exhausted, bags almost permanently embedded under her eyes. Some days she was too tired to do anything, so he would sit in the guest chair, both of them wide awake but bathed in silence except for the occasional cough.
When she was wide awake, it was just the same: silence. The only time they talked was in her between state, half awake but ready for a nap. It was during this time they would play cards or tell stories but never talk about why she was here. Until today.
"Does it hurt? Like, when you cough or your throat or whatever? Stiles asks, shuffling the deck for a new round of bullshit.
"Sometimes. Depends." Lydia clears her throat.
"What about the...?" Stiles trails off while gesturing to the nibs in her nose.
"I could breath without them, it just kind of helps." He hands her the deck and she begins to deal with delicate fingers. There weren't many questions after that. They continued to play their game until the nurses came in once more for her medication and Lydia eventually drifted off to sleep, as well as Stiles.
When he woke it was Saturday and Lydia had cartoons playing quietly from the tv in the corner of her room. She coughed and sputtered silently as possible before placing a strawberry between her lips all while her eyes were trained on the tv. Her diet nowadays mostly consisted of fruit seeing as it helped fight off tuberculosis but Stiles didn't really notice any difference. Not that it didn't give him a speckle of hope.
He tried not to disturb her neutral state but he couldn't help but groan while sitting up causing her eyes to flicker to him. She seemed more vibrant, a smile on her lips.
"Hey sleepy." She grins. The curtains on the single window were drawn, the bags under her eyes barely visible, and that smile he loved so much was blindingly bright and cheerful. How long had he been sleeping?
"Someone's happy." He chuckles, groaning again as he sits up fully. His neck felt as though it was bent on odd angles. Then again he'd been sleeping in an uncomfortable chair (occasionally the floor) for a week.
"That's because," she pauses to point a strawberry at him and let out a small cough. But then she laughs to herself "actually, I don't really know why I'm happy."
Stiles stretches almost awkwardly. "Well, pretty girls deserve to be joyful I suppose."
"Shut up, I'm not pretty." A blush sneaks across her cheeks.
"Pulchritudinous." Stiles spits with a laugh, standing before striding over to where she sat. Instead of sitting next to her, he lets her back fall against the mattress with his body hovering over hers.
"Having incredible beauty." He recites the definition. She rolls her eyes. "Lydia Martin," he kisses her nose causing her to chuckle. "You're fucking beautiful. I'll shout it out to this whole shitty hospital if I need to." She laughs as he peppers her face with little pecks.
"That was lalochezia: emotional relief gained from using profane language." She tells him but he silences the girl with a kiss to lips. She tasted like strawberries and...copper? Lydia pushes him away from her face and confusion spreads across his own.
"It's the blood..." She whispers with shame. Stiles forces a smile for the girl, kissing the corner of her lips instead.
"Everything's fine." He whispers for her, dropping his head to her neck to mumble into her skin.
"You don't have to say that to make me feel better." She whispers back.
He chuckles, sending chills across her body. "I wasn't saying it to make you feel better." Which was half true. He said it to ensure himself.
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Authors note:
TELLEM THAT ITS MY BIRTHDAY! TELLEM THAT ITS MY BIRTHDAY! TELLEM THAT ITS MY BIRTHDAY WHEN I PARTY LIKE THAT!
I'm officially 16😁😁
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe
YOU ARE READING
Lydia's Shy (completed)
FanfictionShe'd been providing for herself since the age of fourteen when her parents had died tragically in a car accident. But now, two years late at the age of sixteen, she finally has a place to call home. Lydia was shy. Very, extremely, inevitably, shy...
