So this is it. Where his journey ends.
Stiles Stilinski is a tough one, a strong one. He has never felt this way before, it's like his stomach explodes and ruptures with butterflies. They fly all over the place bumping into his insides making him smile with delight. It's because she was just so beautiful, like a diamond amongst a thousand stones.
Her hair was as soft as silk, so soft it would glide over you're fingertips and you would barely feel a thing. LIke the butterflies wings that fluttered in Stiles' stomach. She had great smooth skin that when you felt it you would feel a tingle. She would wear beautiful floral dresses and pastel cardigans which brought out her crystal green eyes. And Stiles would never stop staring into them.
He felt they captivated him, took him to another dimension, where all he could think about was the way she looked at him. She made him so happy and joyful, he would be giddy just from talking to her. Like a little schoolboy playing in the sand.
They way she spoke with such gracefulness that even when she stopped speaking it would hang in the air. Her sweet laugh only made him love her more. Stiles Stilinski was very much inlove.
Things that they did together replayed in his mind days after they had even happened, and everytime it would bring those butterflies back. When they sat together on the park bench in the Spring that time when the grass was green and the flowers were pink. She loved the Spring.
Stiles couldn't stop thinking about the way her golden hair fell around her face, the way it moved against her skin. He just wanted to stroke it.
Stiles believed that she was amazing and brilliant and perfect in everyway, in the way that he thought would ever be in reach for him. She was a star in the sky up above him, and he was too far down below. If he ever caught her in the dark it would never do, he would always make sure she was safe, happy.
It would only take one look from her and he knew her moods, whether it be happy, sad, angry or frightened. And Stiles knew each and everyway to make her happy again. It took time and patience, but he searched high and low, in every nook and crannie until he was satisfied that it was enough.
Loving her was the most joyful yet hardest thing in his life. He would never be as muscly, manly or as good looking as any other guy who had interest in her. He was just Stiles. Just Stiles.
And she loved him too.
She loved him because he was just Stiles. He never needed to be as muscly or as manly as anyone else because he had an extroadinary advantage over all of them.
He loved her.
With so much passion, and belief in her. He went out of his way to do things for her, even brushed plans with other people just to be with her. And for her, it was enough.
But that was gone.
Stiles looked in the mirror and straightened his suit and tie. No matter what he did, he just wasn't happy. You could see it in his eyes. You could see it in the way his shoulders drooped no matter how hard he tried to stay tall.
Lydia was gone. And there was no way of bringing her back. There was nothing he could've done to save her.
There was a question though, that always floated about in his mind. If today was your last day, what would you do? If tomorrow was too late, would you live each moment like your last? Stiles wondered what Lydia would've done, what she was thinking of before it happened. Did she know she was going to die?
Stiles was late, he had the funeral to attend to. With his head high, he will walk into that church, sit down and he will wish her everything that he would've wanted her. If he knew she was going to die then that's what he'll say. But he didn't, no one did.
His lip quivered. This was it. This was the end.
But he will always, always