It happened in Mexico

One Thing Ended Another Is Beginning

Malia was upset, but on the inside. She didn't shed a tear, but it was clear in her eyes and the cracks in her voice that she was incredibly hurt. "I'm sorry" he tried to apologise, because he knew that what he just said was indeed pretty harsh and he felt bad for saying it, even if she was just his friend. "Look, you clearly love Lydia...so I think.. if that's what you want and if she's who you really want, then, maybe we should, not be together anymore" Malia managed to say with just a few cracks in her voice. Stiles looked at her, not saying a word. Because deep down, he knew this was right. This was the right thing to do, and his heart was with Lydia. But he still didn't want to hurt or upset Malia. "It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not going to be alone" Malia assured Stiles. "Peter found my mother, and she wanted me to go with her. I told her no, because I wanted to stay here with you, and be with you instead. But that's okay. I'll just go back to her and tell her I changed my mind". Stiles now felt more guilty with each sentence that came out of her mouth. "So thank you for everything you've done for me, and I wish you the best with Lydia. Goodbye Stiles". With that, Malia walked out of his bedroom, headed out the front door and that was the last he saw of her. He couldn't believe that just happened, but a part of him, most of him actually, was so happy it did. He was relieved.

About 20 minutes had passed and Stiles was pacing around his room, sat on his bed, pacing again. What was his next step? What was he supposed to do next? He was back to sitting on his bed again, and he looked over at the drawing he had kept. The tree that Lydia drew. He looked at the red strings on his detective board, the one where he was trying to discover any secret patterns or notice anything coincidental about any of the unsolven cases and something came back to his mind. He thought of the night when Lydia was lying on his bed and asking him about the different coloured strings and what each colour meant. He then looked at the corner where all the birthday gifts he bought her once were. Suddenly he found himself smiling. Lydia Martin. It was her all along. All this progression was so immense, and part of it was in this room alone. He knew exactly what the next step was, he knew exactly what he was supposed to do next. He needed to go to Lydia's house and tell her. Tell her everything. He was hoping this would work.