482 days.
It had been 482 days since Lydia had seen Stiles in person. 482 days she's spent going to sleep with tears in her eyes. 482 days of her wondering when she'd ever see him again, or if she'd ever see him again. 482 days she had felt torn in half.
482 days since Stiles enlisted in the military.
It was a shock to a lot of people, when Stiles made the announcement before graduation. It was long since chaos had stirred in Beacon Hills, but it still felt like a pull to the group. It was coming the time that the group had to decide on their future.
He didn't really explain his sudden interest in the army to the pack, which left Lydia is a bit of a haze as she went home that night. Ever since she lost Allison, she had realized just how much Stiles meant to her. It took time and patience for her to admit that to Stiles, but he was entirely content. Even more so the day she finally mustered the courage to explain (or, try to, at least) her feelings. And he was understanding. Ever since then, they became incredibly more close. They spent long nights in each others arms when they needed comfort, to even just watching a movie on the couch together. They liked what they had, and it made them happy.
So, when Stiles showed up to her house later the night he announced his enlistment, Lydia didn't even try and hide her tears the minute she saw him in the threshold of her bedroom. Of course, Stiles took that as a cue to rush to her side, putting a protective arm around her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
"Hey, it's okay." he said in a hushed tone, rubbing the small of her back.
"Why?" she mumbled through her sobs, and brought her head up to look at him. "Why are you leaving?"
Stiles hands fumbled at the buttons on his flannel, averting his gaze from her vibrant green eyes, glazed from tears. Tears he was causing.
"I spent a long time feeling broken. I watched a lot of lives being taken, people that didn't deserve it." he started, and Lydia didn't need a genius to know that despite the numerous deaths they'd encountered through the supernatural, Stiles meant his mother.
"And yet, I'm still alive. You could call it luck, but I survived so much shit. I saved lives, and it made me feel, I don't know, less broken." he admitted, By then, he had finally looked at Lydia, and it was like he was in love all over again.
"I want to keep doing that. I want to have that structure and guidance. I want to be able to prove my worth and serve for the greater good." Even though he was speaking the truth, Lydia couldn't help but see the guilt in his eyes. He knew what he was giving up. "I need to do this." She just nodded, feeling another round of tears start to swell in her eyes. And she leaned her head to press her lips to his softly, a quick kiss, and Stiles didn't even flinch. They'd kissed before, in times like these; where they were vulnerable and together. They had no idea what they were to each other. They felt like "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" weren't nearly as close descriptors to label what they had, what they were. It was as if one couldn't live without the other. Stiles and Lydia had been through hell and back at such a young age, saved each other's lives. And when the memories flooded back in or if they felt alone, they found solace in each other, comfort they couldn't get anywhere else.
Lydia parted their lips and let her head rest back on her shoulder, his grip tightening around her. "Stay tonight." she asked, her voice cracking.
"Yeah, of course."
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The pack had watched the day he left, waving their goodbyes. Scott, with his puppy eyes and humor as he said goodbye to his best friend. Erica and Boyd, who ruffled his hair and told him to be safe. Isaac, who actually smiled and patted his back. Derek, who of course, gave him last minute brutality tips, causing Stiles to roll his eyes. His dad, beaming and proud with wet eyes as he hugged his son for dear life, telling him to make sure he came back home.
