𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 ━━ LYDIA MARTIN

93

REID RECEIVED A call from Scott who told him to come over at his place, saying there was something wrong with Stiles.

That was how he found himself entering his house, looking as messed up as ever, his hair dishevelled and dark circles under his eyes proving that he hasn't been getting sleep.

He hasn't spoken to Lydia ever since they went to take the finger from Kincaid. He kept his words and maintained his distance. It was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Lydia hasn't tried reaching out to him either, figuring that he wanted to be alone. She knew she messed up and she wanted nothing more than to fix it.

His eyes settled on Stiles who had been placed on the couch, his eyes shut and his face pale. He knew Lydia would've been there so he chose to ignore her entire presence as he approached Stiles, barely acknowledging the others.

Deaton eyed him, confused, "you look like hell."

"I'm not the one you should be looking at," Reid muttered, nodding towards his unconscious friend. Deaton sighed before he parted the torn part of Stiles' shirt, revealing the gash on his stomach. "It doesn't look like he's bleeding," he noticed, "I think he might even be healing."

"You mean healing like we heal?" Aiden asked making Reid look at him. The fact that he was standing next to Lydia didn't go unnoticed by him. He fought the urge to go and snap his neck and pretended to be all unbothered by his presence.

"That's good, right?" Scott questioned, unsure of what to make out of the situation.

"For him, yes," Deaton replied, staring at Stiles's wound, "us? I'm not so sure."

"Sounds fun," Reid muttered, his hand going to his back pocket where he took out a pack of cigarettes and took one out of it before placing the box back in. He ignored the looks Melissa and Deaton were sending him as he reached for his lighter in his other pocket. He then placed the cigarette in between his teeth and his hand formed a cup before he hovered it over his mouth so he could light it up.

"Reid?" Deaton called out making him hum at her while he placed the lighter back, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I need to talk to you."

"No," he shook his head, "you need to deal with Stiles. I'm going outside to smoke. Don't want a certain someone to not feel safe." With that, he walked away without giving the others a chance to question his words.

"Is he okay?" Lydia asked, referring to her boyfriend as Stiles lied unconscious still.

"Honestly?" Deaton looked at the strawberry blonde, "no but I've seen worse." He paused, "you should probably go talk to him." Lydia nodded before she found herself going outside as well with the intention of fixing things.

Her steps haltered when she saw Reid sitting on the railing, his head thrown back as he slowly released the smoke into the air and watched it disappear. He knew she was there but decided to ignore her presence.

Taking a deep breath, she started walking towards him and she knew that he was aware she was there. She stood right beside him but since his legs were thrown over the railing as he sat, she was kind of behind him but close enough. "Reid, we need to talk."

"Need me to go on the other side of the street for us to do that?" He questioned, bitterness filled in his voice, "I mean, I wouldn't want you to feel unsafe. Y'know what? You should grab a knife just in case I decide to attack you because you never know, right?" He took another drag of his cigarette, rolling his eyes at her silence. "Just fuck off, Lydia," he muttered, his voice low, "I don't wanna talk to you right now. In fact, I don't want to talk to anyone so why don't you go back inside and keep Aiden company like you've been doing this whole time?"