one shots | stydia

Stydia|| In The Blue.

Some days I barley miss you,
some days I'm almost alright, and some nights
I turn to kiss you,
but you're not beside my side.
-------•-------

He had her necklace wrapped around his slender fingers, staring at a piece of jewellery.

I know, pretty silly, huh?

Although, it wasn't to him. To him it was everything. When he'd remember she wore it everyday, he'd touch it and it felt like it was burning into his skin and his stomach would tie up in little knots. He turned to face his head on her side of the bed, picturing her red, auburn hair spread out across the pillow like wildfire, missing when the light would glance through his blinds just to shine upon her hair, making the colour sharp and prominent than it already portrayed.

Although, he didn't. He didn't see her there. All he wanted, all he ached for was to touch her skin one more time. To feel her hair rise on her arms and feel the goosebumps that would rise on her skin. Her reaction to his touch was what he loved most. He wanted to hear her laugh. That contagious, beautiful fucking laugh that really brought the definition 'music to my ears' to life.

But, he couldn't. He couldn't hear her laugh again. He couldn't see her bite her lip while upset or tired or devoured into their next supernatural disaster.

He couldn't.

Flashback:

"No no no no no, come on Lydia wake up. Come on, can you hear me, Lydia? Lydia open your eyes. Come on, come on. Listen to me Lydia, Lydia show me your eyes. Lydia." Stiles cried, shaking her face as his bottom lip began to quiver.

He swore he felt it, he swore he felt his heart tear into two. Feeling the anatomy just, rip. And for the first time in his life, he honestly felt like he was going to die.

"Stiles, dude. There's no-no heartbeat man." Scott stuttered, holding it together for his best friend but completely failing as he stuttered across his words. Scott's head hung low as a few silent tears dropped from the tip of his nose onto the cold, shiny operating table where Lydia lays.

"No, no she's not dead. She's fucking Lydia Martin, she cannot be dead." Stiles said, not tearing his eyes away from her face.

He wiped the existing bits of glass from her face that he previously missed, putting one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her cheek, shaking her, determined that he can wake her up.

"Come on, I love you. I love you, Lydia. Lydia, please. Please don't die, don't leave me. If you die, I die. Lydia, I need you." Stiles whispered as he wept. "Please, please Lydia please don't leave me. I love you, don't you dare leave me. Don't leave me Lydia."

And with that, Stiles started to scream.

"Some one, some one bring her back! Bring her back to me, Scott. Please, please just please-please." Stiles collapsed to the floor, his knees came up to his forehead as his hands shook faster than an earthquake.

His world really was over, Lydia was dead.

Now Stiles wanted to die too.

Flashback over.

Stiles turned to look at the framed photo that sat neatly right next to his bed and smiled for the first time in a while as he rested the necklace over the frame. He smiled because all he thought of was that exact moment, and not the ugly world he is stuck in without her.