Falling For You | Stydia in Reverse

Chapter Seven

I keep to myself for the rest of the weekend, having my phone on silent and then turning it off completely when Jackson doesn't take the hint and continues to call and text me. When he stops by at my house on Sunday, I have my Mother tell him I've come down with the flu, although I know he wouldn't believe this lie for one second. He knew me too well. It wasn't that I was mad at Jackson, I just felt like being alone. Plus, the lack of sleep I had received really did make me feel sick. I was tired, but every time I closed my eyes I could hear the sound of the crowbar impacting with Isaac's Father's skull, could see the blood spurting from the side of his head, drowning him in the disgusting red substance. I wasn't sure what had happened to him, the last I had heard he was in hospital, so I must of hit Isaac's Dad pretty hard.

On Monday, I don't feel like going to school at all. The thought of it alone makes me sick to my stomach. But anything has to be better than my Mother fussing over me. She meant well, but the look she gave me every time she saw me was so pathetic I felt like a limping, one eyed, homeless hound. So, much to my dismay, I roll out of bed and into a knee-length sky blue t-shirt dress, matching it with short tan boots and pulling my hair back off my face carelessly. I didn't care how I looked. As I walked up to the school gates Allison greeted me.

"I heard what happened, are you alright?" She asks empathetically, taking me by surprise as she hugs me tightly.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. "How did you find out?"
"It was all over the news, everyone knows." Allison must have read the apprehensive look spread across my face, because she quickly adds, "I'm sure everyone's forgotten about it now, especially with the gossip surrounding Stiles and Malia."
"What gossip?" I ask, a little too curiously.
"Haven't you heard? They broke up. Apparently Malia went crazy at Stiles for ditching her on their anniversary date." We begin to head up the stairs to the school entrance.
"But it wasn't Stiles' fault, he was helping me," I say, gulping hard.
"That didn't seem to matter to Malia." Allison seems a little too excited over the gossip, churning the words out as though she was an expert who had studied the theory of Stiles and Malia's relationship as a subject. "But in all honesty, how do you feel?" She turns to face me, her eyes now dead serious, despite her trying to keep a positive smile.
"Alright, not too mentally damaged. A bit hungry though, I haven't been able to stomach any food all weekend. I think I've lost nine pounds." Allison laughs at this as we open the large doors and head into the main hallway. I look up to see everyone's eyes on mine, frozen like statues as compared to walking from class to class. I stare at every set of eyes, in return frozen in my position as I wish I could just turn in the opposite direction and run out of school right now. My ears feel blocked as blood rushes to my cheeks, and the only thing I can hear is when Allison leans over to me and whispers "maybe it's the nine pounds."

***

I survived my first class, English, but barely. It took all my strength not to turn around to all those staring and whispering about me and yell "why don't you just take a picture, it'll last longer!" I refrain though, knowing I wouldn't have the guts to do so. As the bell rings and I scurry to my locker, avoiding everyone I possibly can, I hear the chatting of two freshmen a couple of lockers away. "Never thought she had it in her?"
"It's always the quiet ones." I roll my eyes, presuming they're referring to me landing Isaac's Father in hospital.
"Yeah but do you think she knows yet?"
"She hit him hard enough, she must've known she'd kill him."

I freeze halfway through shutting my locker, at first not being able to comprehend what they've said. This can't be true, I think to myself. I manage to grab out my phone, and with shaking finger tips check out the latest news report. A photo of Isaac's Dad pops up at the top of the screen. Despite it being taken at a function, and although he's smiling, he still has that same cold look in his eyes. I scroll down to read the title of the article, 'Abusive Father Dies After Being Struck With Crowbar By Teenage Girl Trying To Save Son's Life.'

It feels as though someone has kicked me in the chest, I'm winded and I can't breathe. I've killed someone, me, five foot, weak, quiet Lydia Martin is a cold-blooded murderer. I stumble through the halls as I think to myself, I've got to get out of here. The ground feels as though it shakes beneath me as I stumble through the crowd of students, suddenly feeling a hand grab onto my shoulder. "Lydia are you okay?" I can tell by the voice that it's Stiles, but I shake his arm off as I look around for an exit. "I've got to get out of here," I mumble, not sure if he can understand me until he pulls me into the empty locker room.

I fall to the floor, pushing myself back up against an uncomfortable metal rack as I huddle my knees to my chest. I rock back and forth gently as I try to breathe, although it feels like I'm drowning. "Lydia, what's wrong?" Stiles' voice is panicked as he rushes to crouch next to me, not sure what to do.
"I'm having a panic attack," I manage to choke out in between heaves.
"It's alright. Just, listen to the sound of my voice." He moves closer to me. "Think about happy things. Like butterflies, family, cake."
"Cake?"
"Yeah, cake's awesome," he smiles for a second before remembering the situation we are in. Stiles gently places his hands on either side of my face, his thumb massaging my cheek slightly as I continue to choke. "Shh, Lydia. Look at me." I manage to look into his eyes through the dizziness, and the next thing he does takes me by complete surprise.

He pulls me forward and kisses me, his hands remaining on the sides of my face as I feel myself lean into the kiss. There's a feeling, one that I've only read about in books and seen in movies, that I never thought really existed. It's the feeling of fireworks exploding, lightening up the sky above us in an array of colours, as if to shower us spectacularly. After moments of our lips intertwining perfectly, I gently pull away, suddenly feeling a burst of air spring back into my lungs, making it feel as though I was drowning and Stiles' lips was the only source of oxygen that I so desperately needed. "Why did you do that?" I ask, my voice gentle as my mouth speaks before I have time to comprehend what I'm saying.
"I read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack. So, when I kissed you, you held your breath." He looks at me with a slight smile, as if he is now just comprehending what had occurred as well.
"That's really smart," I smile.
"Thank you," Stiles replies, returning my smile.
And in that moment, I realised I was in love with Stiles Stilinski. Not a teenage crush, hormones rushing, I'll get over it in a week infatuation, but honesty in love with him. With his soul, his smile, the way he pushed his hair back off his face when he was nervous, much like he was doing right now. I was completely and undeniably in love with Stiles.

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Author's note

Hi guys,
First of all, thank you so much for reading my story, it means a lot.

I know that I've skipped a whole bunch of Stydia moments, but I've been having terrible writer's block, so I decided to plan things out and to get to other important moments such as the dance I really needed the kiss to happen first.

I hope it's still alright and that you enjoy this chapter😊

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