Chapter Twenty-Seven: It's My Fault
Lydia rolled over in her sleep and accidentally hit Isaac's nose. He grumbled and turned his body onto his side. He nuzzled his head into the warm pillow and let out a quiet sigh of content.
Lydia's eyes shot open immediately when she heard the front door open. She heard footsteps from outside the door. Lydia looked over at the sleeping boy and wacked his arm.
"Mmm?" He groaned but didn't move or open his eyes. Lydia hit again but harder this time. Isaac's eyes opened and narrowed. He sat up and looked at her. "What!?"
"Someone's in your apartment," Lydia told him. Isaac glanced towards his bedroom door and then back at her.
"Someone needs more sleep," He said and started to lay back down.
"Isaac?" Someone called out for him.
Lydia looked at the blond with a look that said 'I told you so'. He sighed and got up, ignoring how messy his hair looked and how his jeans were hanging low on his hipbones.
Isaac opened the door and closed it halfway as he walked out of his room. Lydia sat up and rubbed her head. She reached over onto the dresser and grabbed her phone. She had a few texts from Danny and three missed calls from Allison.
The English boy walked down the hall and to the front door. He knew the voice that called for him. He could put a face to that voice so easily that it was almost sad.
"Scott," He yawned and stretched his arms. Isaac walked to the door and found Scott there, looking down at Lydia's shoes. "What are you doing here?"
The tanned man looked up and shook his head. He eyed Isaac, glancing at his appearance and then back up at his eyes. "I wanted to talk. About last night. But I see that you have company."
"What's left to say, Scott?" Isaac asked and tapped his foot. "I already told you everything. I think it's best if you just go."
"Isaac..." Scott said with a pleading look in his eyes. The blond broke their eye contact and looked at the door. Scott sighed. "I don't want this to change anything. I don't care if you like me, okay? I just need to know that my best friend won't leave me because of this."
Isaac laughed. "Funny."
"What's funny about this?"
"How you think it hasn't already changed," Isaac said harshly. "Everything is different and its because now you know what I've been keeping in for eight fucking years, Scotty. Now you're going to treat me like some abandoned dog who won't leave you alone. I don't want your pity."
"I'm not going to pity you—"
"You already are," Isaac said and took a step back. "I hear it in your tone. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You wouldn't be here right now if this was about something else."
Isaac and Scott could hear Lydia quietly speaking to someone on the phone. Isaac ignored it, but Scott was confused.
"Who's in there?" He asked.
"Huh? Oh, it's just Lydia," Isaac said and yanked on the collar of his shirt into place.
"Lydia?" Scott said, his eyes wide. "You slept with Lydia?"
"Yeah?" Isaac said with a sideways look. "Why?"
"Oh my fuck," Scott muttered. "Stiles is going to kill you!"
"Why would he kill me? He should be thanking me," Isaac told him.
Scott sighed and shook his head. "Why would he thank you for fucking around with his girl?"
"Wait what?" Isaac said and laughed. "You think I had sex with Lydia?"
"You said you did! And you look like it too, Isaac," Scott deadpanned.
Isaac couldn't contain his groggy laughter that dripped sarcasm. "You're really fucking stupid if you think that I'd ever do that with Lydia. I slept next to her. We fell ASLEEP with each other on the other side of the bed."
"He's still going to kill you," Scott sighed.
"Well that sounds like a me problem, Scotty," Isaac said, "Not a you problem."
Scott opened his mouth to speak but he closed it once he saw Lydia emerging from Isaac's room. Isaac noticed that the man's attention was no longer on him so he followed his gaze.
"Hi Scott," Lydia said and then she looked at Isaac. She slightly held out her phone as if it would tell him that she had just received news about something. "I have to go..."
Isaac nodded. "I'll drive you—"
"No, no," She said with a smile. "It's good. I can walk."
Isaac nodded once more and let the girl walk past him. "I'll talk to you later to see if you still want to do something for your birthday. I mean, I know it's kind of late in the day already but, later later."
Lydia grinned at him. "Of course I do. I'll call you."
—
Cars drove by as she walked down the sidewalk. Some asshole decided to drive a little too close, and water from a nearby puddle went flying. Lydia was drenched in water.
One of the boys in the car stuck out his head and opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue, down to his chin, and made the sign of horns with his hands. Lydia flipped the fucker off. He cackled as the other boy kept on driving, speeding down the avenue.
Lydia ran a hand through her wet hair and tried shaking the water out. She sighed and rubbed her face before continuing to walk.
The day was dreary. She felt dreary. Everything was just dreary.
As she walked, she began to think about what Isaac and Scott were talking about back in his flat. Everything around her was changing and everyone was fighting. Nothing made sense anymore.
A crack of thunder caught her off guard, making her jump. She looked up and felt a drop of rain splash onto her forehead.
"It always gets worse, doesn't it," She muttered.
And soon, it was pouring and the cars driving by with blaring lights and honking horns didn't make her feel any better.
Was this how you were supposed to feel on the day you were born? The one day, only once a year, that was dedicated to you?
Lydia shook her head. All she wanted to do was get home quickly, grab her things, and head to Allison's house. Chris Argent, Allison's father, was coming back soon from his business trip, and Ally invited her to stay with them. But the more she started to think, the more Lydia wanted to sit down. And by the looks of things, it'd be a while before she got home anyways.
Stop saying home, Lydia scolded herself. It's not your home anymore.
Her orange hair was now completely reddish brown from the rain and it was matted down in front of her face.
It was cold and she didn't bring a jacket with her. She should've stayed at Isaac's and waited for him and Scott to finish so he could drive her home.
No, she told herself, you don't need Isaac. You've never needed anyone before. You're Lydia fucking Martin! Even alone, you can do anything. You'll get home.
But the more she tried reassuring herself, the more she felt sick to her stomach. Lydia realized that she was starting to lose her touch. She wasn't as invincible as she once thought she was. For God's sake, she was just caught a day ago. How could she let this all happen?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Old Lydia would've never let the cops get to her. Old Lydia would never've been so fucking careless.
Old Lydia would've never fallen in love, especially with someone like Stiles Stilinski. She would've kept him out and not even dare to let him in. Well? Where the fuck is she now, huh? WHERE IS SHE?
"SHE'S GONE!" Lydia screamed, looking up at the sky. Her eyes started to burn from the tears leaking out of her eyes. "She's....gone."
A blue jeep pulled up to her just as Lydia began to completely break down. She looked through the rain with teary eyes, towards Stiles, who watched her worriedly.
"Do...do you want....just—fuck—Would you like a ride?" Stiles stuttered, not knowing if Lydia was even approachable in this state. He's seen her sad before, but never like this. Never like this.
Lydia opened her mouth to speak, to tell him yes that she needed a ride, but also no, that he needed to go. She was so fucking confused and everything was just so fucking screwed up. So she kept her mouth shut and bit her trembling lip.
Stiles nodded, taking her silence as a response. "Alright," He said. He got out of his car, into the pouring rain, and slammed his door shut.
"Come here," He said as he walked towards her. The usual suavity in the way he walked was now completely gone. Stiles almost looked as vulnerable as Lydia did in this moment. Almost.
Lydia could smell his cologne from a few feet away. It was the cologne that she had gotten so used to–the cologne that she loved waking up to.
Her feet began to move and she met him half way. Her arms wrapped around him feverishly and the tension that had been building up inside him for the past few minutes had eased. Stiles hugged her back, squeezing her tighter into his chest. He could faintly hear her weeping through the noise of vehicles driving by but he could feel her.
"How could I do this?" Lydia choked and looked up at him. He noticed mascara smeared all over her face and he knew that it was most likely all over his white shirt. But he didn't give a single fuck about the goddamned shirt right now.
"Do what?" He questioned, frantically touching her face and wiping the soaked hair from out of her eyes.
"How could I let everything around me get so fucked up?" Lydia sobbed and looked down at his ruined shirt.
"Hey," Stiles said and shook her gently. She didn't look up. He did it again. "Hey, look at me. Red, look at me." Lydia's green eyes met his and for a second he lost his breath. "It's not your fault, do you hear me? Shit happens. Shit is always going to happen. —Hey, hey! Look at me. Look—But it's not. your. fault."
"It is—"
"No it's not," He said harsher than before. "If anyone's to blame it's me, okay? Do you understand that? Me."
"No—"
"Yes," Stiles exclaimed. "It is. Because if I actually thought shit out, we wouldn't be in this mess. You'd be in my arms right now, on the couch with me, watching some shit horror movie that I picked out on Netflix, not here in the pouring rain. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be running from me. You wouldn't be questioning whether I truly love you or not. If I just stopped to think for one God-fucking-second, then you wouldn't be here questioning where you fucking stand in my life. You'd know that you are my fucking life, Lydia."
Lydia stared at him and he glanced at her parted lips. "Why can't you..." He faltered, looking back up into her eyes. "Why can't you..." He got lost in them. "Why can't..." He gave up trying and leaned in. Because his mind was telling him to kiss her and his heart was telling him to kiss her and every part of him was just SCREAMING at him to kiss her.
His hands automatically settled on her cheek and neck like they always did. His hands were always so gentle with her, not because he thought she was fragile. She was the strongest person he knew. Lydia didn't deserve to be treated roughly, like she was something you could just throw around. She was so much more. Lydia deserved to be treated as if she was gold. She needed to be treasured. She needed to know that she was cared for, that Stiles was so terrified of completely fucking losing her.
So he kissed her, over and over again. His kisses weren't rough as though they were taking, they were soft and warm and just fucking giving. He was giving her the kisses she deserved, the kisses she's always deserved.
"Lydia I'm so fucking in love with you," Stiles murmured between kisses. "So, so very fucking in love."
Lydia placed her hands on the sides of his neck and continued to let him kiss her soothingly. Their lips clashed and pulled back slightly rhythmically and when he darted his tongue slowly into her mouth she let him. Because fuck it, she was so fucking done pretending to not miss this–to not miss him.
"Please don't leave me again," Stiles whispered.
Lydia shook her head. "M'not."Stiles nodded and minuscule smile played on his lips as he leaned in again.