String of Fate.

Chapter One - Illusion of Happiness.

2:23 am.

Lydia Martin turned her small frame, adjusting to let her body have more room to get comfortable to fall back asleep. Strong legs draped over another pair, the strawberry blonde's head resting on a firm chest. After a soft hum was released from her plump tiers, the pale eyelids would snap open, emerald hues showing panic as she looked up at the stranger in her bed.

But, this wasn't a stranger.

Even in the darkness, Lydia could tell it was the infamous Stiles Stilinksi. She could recognize the faint smell of mint, and body wash from a mile away. Her body knew the way his curved against hers, the way their bodies fit perfectly together as if they were made for each other. . .

That didn't stop Lydia from screaming, though.

Slender digits quickly covered her mouth, his body quickly moving so Stiles was hovering above the ginger, their gazes meeting in an explosion of beautiful galaxies coming together back as one. Oh, how Lydia wished it was his lips against her mouth instead of his hands.

"Lyds, shush, okay? I-I couldn't sleep, and, uh, well. I don't think Scott wants me sneaking into his bedroom at 2:20 am." The spastic teenager's voice was raspy, the skin under his eyes a bit dark, his chocolate eyes hiding an exhaustion to them. The banshee's heart melted at the sight. She cared about him, she truly did.

Ever since he dragged her back from the literal dead, Lydia has felt the urge to protect him no matter what, to keep him from all evil. Stiles felt the same way. He wanted to make sure nobody would ever hurt the girl he's been in love with since he was old enough to know what love was.

"Fine. But, only for tonight, okay?"

Lydia voice was mumbled, his hand slipping to uncover her plump red lips. Moving their bodies almost in perfect sync, Stiles' body under Lydia's, his arm protectively around him, Lydia's leg draped over his, her cheek resting on his solid chest.

Despite Lydia's words for this to be a one night deal, the youngest Stilinski would sneak into her room at 2:20 am every morning, pull her against his chest, his face burying into her hair that always smelled like vanilla and a hint of strawberry.

They enjoyed the peace, the slow growing passion and love for the other. They enjoyed it until it was too late, until they would be ripped from each other, ripped into a struggle neither one of them was prepared for.

But, for now, the two teenagers would simply enjoy their 2:20 am cuddles.

—

     "It doesn't make sense, Lyds. If it was a shooting, then why was the glass shattered like that? Huh? If it was a bullet, the glass would have been almost spider webby, but it wasn't. It was almost like something was thrown through it. Not to mention the act that the kid who saw it all didn't remember anything? It doesn't make any sense-" 

   The male was leaning toward the youngest Martin member, trying to talk quietly, but, failing. The night before, Lydia, Stiles, Scott, and Malia went to the police station, where they convinced Sheriff Stilinski to allow them to look at the car Liam and Hayden found. The entire case was strange, Lydia had to admit. The entire windshield was shattered, the parents not found, but, their son huddled up in the back seat, scared out of his mind. But, he didn't know what had happened exactly.

    "Stiles, stop! I'm trying to pay—"

    Lydia's hiss was interrupted by her and Stiles' World History teacher, who scolded both of them, like always.