Stydia

Stydia Playlist: Close As Strangers

Lydia grumbled, sick of the radio's music. She never liked mainstream music much, the mixture of overbearing bass tracks and auto-tuned high melodies were like nails to a chalkboard to her. Occasionally, she could deal with the popular Calvin Harris, but if she had headphones in it would be Madonna or Kids of 88- not the garbage Beacon Hills number one hit station regurgitated.

Not that she expected to spend a perfectly good, yet rainy Monday cooped up in her car, in front of Derek's loft listening to terrible music. Though her friends' texts were apologetic, once again, the pack had failed to inform her of their plans. Derek had been busy with Braeden and Satomi, and was just leaving the woods- they had rescheduled, told Scott who had mentioned it to the rest of the group at lunch. Luckily for Lydia, she had avoided the rest of them in the library that day leaving her wasting her valuable time.

It was unfortunate too, she had just picked up an interest research book by a professor from Cornell on studies with astrophysics. They had corresponded for a while, him encouraging her to apply and suggested certain textbooks for better understanding. It seemed that most of her time was spent e-mailing aged professors about maths, while her friends, when not running from the hands of danger, were living high school to the fullest.

There was a slight bitterness which she couldn't restrain herself from feeling. Relationships. It felt like a high school experience was inferior if there wasn't that major portion. Lydia disagreed, though she'd had her share of many. Jackson and Aiden were the short list of even close to serious relationships she'd ever had, but somehow neither of them had been exclusive. There had been a fair amount of hook-ups, and even though her popularity had decreased by a significant amount when she became the town crazy, she was still adored by men. Lydia was confident and it made her even more attractive; she was well aware that the other sex salivated at the sight of her.

This didn't stop her from feeling empty and alone. She'd watch Les Mis the night before, laughing, as if her fate and that of Anne Hathaway's character would be the same. Okay, well, maybe she wouldn't end up like the suicidal, lonely prostitute. But, she had been drunk and she had felt lonely- so granted, her thoughts had been slightly far-fetched.

Scott and Kira's relationship had been going steady, and you could see that slowly, Scott was recovering. Kira had been completely supportive and had made sure nothing was rushed. Her focus on Scott, her attention and care, had left little time to forge other friendships. However, wherever Scott was, Stiles followed. It had been a rule since childhood and as Lydia thought of the basics of their pack, she smiled. A pain flickered in her chest as she thought of the best friend she once had, similar to Scott and Stiles. She shook her head with a soft smile, dismissing her thoughts.

Kira was able to adjust to the less of a burden, but more of a pleasant attachment known as Stiles to her relationship. They were able to grow close as they both spent time with a person they loved greatly (though Stiles to a stronger degree, Lydia mused.) Thereof, Malia, whose relationship with Stiles was blossoming to a rapid pace, immediately befriended Kira.

This left Lydia as the bystander. She chuckled to herself, sitting there in her Prius as the rain poured down. Misery loved its company, and Lydia sure didn't have any.

She began tapping her fingernails rhythmically on her steering wheel to the electric guitar intro to a song she didn't know. She squinted trying to read the radio screen that flashed Five Seconds of Summer. She scoffed, getting ready to turn the dials- she recalled freshman giggling over some other pop boyband called some other silly name. She hesitated as the first verse played.

Six weeks since I've been away
And now you're sayin' everything has changed
And I'm afraid that I might be losing you
And every night that we spend alone
It kills me thinking of you on your own
And I wish I was back home next to you