Enchanted - A Stydia / Jily AU - Teen Wolf

Trouble.

Would you lie for me?
Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?

- Trouble, Halsey.

.....................................

It had been a week.

One week since she and Stiles had sat on the floor of a rainforest that seemed to go up and up and up into infinity, frozen in time as they exchanged stories and secrets, made promises and deals, eventually ending up curled into each other, watching the birds flash colored wings at them from the canopy, their fingers tangled together as Stiles whispered nothing and everything to her, nonsense fairy tales that sometimes held elements of truth, anecdotes from forever ago that always managed to feature Lydia somehow.

One week since she had stayed silent in his arms, ignoring the way her heart clenched when his hand moved over her body to find somewhere new to map out, like every part of her was endlessly fascinating. It wasn't like the other times, where it was rushed and heated and clumsy. His hand never strayed under her clothes, his touch so soft that occasionally she wondered if she was imagining it.

One week since she had accidentally fallen asleep with him, exhausted from trying to keep up with so many emotions at once; anger for the boys that had tortured Hayden, worry for the girl herself, guilt from being with Stiles, undeniable happiness from being with Stiles, complete and utter terror from being with Stiles.

Because he acted like he was in love with her, which got Lydia thinking that maybe he was in love with her. The thought made her want to run. He could catch her easily, of course. Those annoying long legs of his. But he would know to not follow her if she ran.

So she stayed.

With his lips brushing against her ear, cheekbone, jawbone, every time he spoke, sending little jolts of electricity through her, she stayed. Her heart clenched and unclenched and clenched again and eventually tired itself out, and that was when she fell asleep, softened and weak and so, so happy.

She stayed, because maybe a little part of her - or a big part - wanted Stiles Stilinski to be in love with her.

"Lydia." Someone snapped their fingers in front of her face. Black painted nails, chipped in places. Kira. "You alive?"

Lydia blinked. One week since she had returned to the Dormitory to find Malia asleep with her back to the rest of the room, her stuffed bear clutched to her chest, and Kira hidden under a pile of blankets, making little sounds that hurt to listen to, quiet sniffles and gasps that echoed through the room.

She had never seen Kira cry before. Ever. Not when a group of Ravenclaws laughed at her for accidentally brewing the wrong potion because she had heard Slughorn wrong, not when she lost her book bag and found it the next day with MUDBLOOD plastered on every single page of her Muggle Studies textbook. Kira didn't cry.

The sounds stopped when she felt Lydia's weight dip one side of the bed, and when she came out from under the blankets, it was with red rimmed eyes and eyelashes that stuck together like points of a black star.

Kira swallowed hard, swiping a hand under her eye to catch a tear that looked like ink on her skin in the darkened room. "I don't ask you why you weren't here," she said, "If you don't ask me why I'm crying. Okay?"

"Okay," Lydia whispered.

Kira looked so small, tangled up in sheets and blankets, cheeks flushed and a broken-ness about her that was entirely foreign, that Lydia couldn't bear to go to her own bed, couldn't leave Kira by herself.

Instead they fell asleep together, something that had only ever happened before once or twice, mainly due to the fact that the four of them always tended to pair off as Allison with Lydia, Malia with Kira.