3rd person pov:
Lydia hated to admit it, because she rarely had, but she was a little jealous. Yes, she agreed that Stiles still had a right to be in love with his old lover and crap but at the same time, it didn't seem fair since only weeks ago they professed their own love for each other. She watched in envy as Stiles and Emory sat in the corner of the living room, the lanky boy explaining several different things to her in private.
"It's getting stronger." Scott complains, plugging his nose at the scent of jealousy. Allison sighs, pulling a bottle of perfume from off of her lap and spritzing Lydia twice before picking up a magazine on the coffee table. Stiles finishes up the conversation and they join the other three in the living room, Emory looking as though she would burst in tears any moment. The two strawberry blondes exchange a few looks and the tension in the room is almost visible.
"What do you all want to know?" Emory speaks quietly, her voice as fragile as he appearance.
"How are you here? Where did you come from?" Scott speaks first.
Emory shakes her head. "I don't know."
"What's the last thing you remember?" Lydia asks. There's a pause in the air, the room falling completely silent. Emory twirls a piece of her hair, glancing at Stiles from the corner of her eye for half a second.
"Killing myself." She whispers.
"Wait, what?" Stiles stops any other questions waiting to come out.
"They told me you were dead. So I..." Emory's voice breaks, cutting off her own sentence and she moves a little further away from Stiles on the couch. The whole situation was just tugging at Stiles' throat, the fact that Emory and her reincarnation were both in front of him, both in love with him, and himself in love with both of them.
"Stiles," Lydia warns. "don't."
"What happened to you in the Yuki?" Allison's voice was gentler than the rest, trying her best to stay out of the middle of it all.
"Shuten Dōji." Emory responds.
"Is there anything else? Anything you know that we don't?" Scott asks.
Emory looks at Stiles, as if she did know something, before shaking her head.
With a few sighs, Lydia offers her bed to Emory and she agrees, Allison helping her upstairs. Scott says that him and Allison will be in the spare room and both Stiles and Lydia try to argue but he was already halfway up the stairs.
"Mom working late?" Stiles asks quietly, getting off the couch so he can help pull out the couch bed.
"She almost always is. She wouldn't care though." Lydia mumbles. She aggressively pulls the throw pillows and cushions off the couch and Stiles swallows hard.
"Are you....mad at me?" He pauses.
"No."
But of course he could tell she was lying. Just as she's about to fold out the bed, Stiles grabs her by the arm, their faces mere centimeters apart.
"I get it." She whispers. "I know you still love her and I get it."
His grip loosens and she easily breaks away, returning to her job. Stiles lets out a grunt of frustration.
"I don't understand! I don't get any of this! Of course I love her but I love you, Lydia. I don't know what I'm supposed to do and all I know is that I love you. I love you so goddamn much and it freaking hurts." Stiles somehow remains slightly quiet while Lydia gets the bed out and starts to make it. She doesn't look at him though, her mind swirling.
"Then just stop loving me." She mumbles. She can argue that it was said just because of the moment, the intensity of the air but deep down some part of her kind of meant it.
"I CAN'T!" Stiles yells, not caring at this moment if anyone upstairs heard and Lydia freezes. "when I look at you I-I... I lose my train of thought. It's like everything I was about to say gets lost in your eyes and your smile and the way your lips move up and down when you read but you don't actually say anything. And I love you. I love you so much that even the very mention of your name stabs my heart."
Stiles didn't know what he was expecting. For her to say she loves him back? For her to call bullshit on the whole thing?
"I'm going to go get an extra blanket." Lydia walks away with no emotion what so ever. Stiles curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair while sitting on the edge of the bed.
When she comes back in, there are no words spoken. They both lay back on the creaky pull out, each with separate blankets, each on the edge of their separate sides. And they fall asleep that way. The middle of the night, Scott comes downstairs for a glass of water, fully aware of they're conversation (thank you werewolf hearing) to find Lydia curled into his chest.
She was crying silently, softly drawing designs on his arm that was wrapped around her. Stiles was only half awake, shifting a little to get closer to her with his eyes closed. Scott didn't know what had happened to change their earlier emotions but whatever is was, the werewolf was glad the fight hadn't lasted long.
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Authors note:
Literally watched The First Time ten times in a row today. LITERALLY.
I'm probably going to start writing in 3rd person pov because personally I think I write better that way (but that's just me). Let me know what you think!
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe
