No Questions Here (completed)

9. Just a Little More Than Awkward

For the first time since Lydia had moved in, Stiles had woken up before her. When he opened his door there was no smell of coffee. When he walked into the living room she wasn't sitting on the couch. And when he waited for her voice, it never came.

When she did wake up, it took fifteen minutes of silent contemplation for her to actually shuffle out of her room. Stiles was on the couch reading a book as she quietly made her way to the kitchen to start some coffee. He had headphones in so she didn't think he'd hear her. She was wrong. The coffee pot beeped loudly causing the boy to instantly tug out his headphones and turn in her direction.

"Hey...you're up." Stiles closes his book and stands, pulling his sweatpants up while tightening the string in the front. Lydia didn't do anything but nod, not daring to turn around and meet his solemn eyes. "Listen I'm really sorry about the past couple of days. I've been a jackass more than usual and you definitely didn't deserve to-"
"You said you were seven?" Lydia interrupts him.

His throat swells as he nervously tugs at his hands. "Y-yeah."
"She died...didn't she?" Lydia asks. This time he didn't trust himself to talk, nodding instead. "I shouldn't have went off on you last night. It really wasn't any of my business to be–" she stops herself short. "I can't believe I said what I did and I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

Stiles was too much of a coward in this moment to explain. Too weak to let her know that this happened every year.

It started when Stiles was fifteen and the reality of his situation finally hit him hard. He had to start seeing a counselor, started caring less about school, started getting into the wrong crowd. At sixteen alcohol suddenly became his best friend. He'd come home drunk late at night, his father eventually sending him to a boys camp for the summer. Stiles had come back damaged and broken but sober and willing to try. And try he did. But eventually it all fell again.

Stiles barely managed to graduate high school and Mr.Stilinski learned that it was unavoidable this one week out of the year. He had allowed his son to lock himself in his room. He had allowed his son to grieve during this time by drinking. And even though he knew it wasn't right, he had allowed his son to cut himself off from the world. Just for this one week every year.

Just like that, the two teens were suddenly back to their regular routine, as if that week hasn't happened at all. Just like Scott had said, everything was normal again on Sunday a petit purple haired girl making her way into the apartment. If the eyebrow piercing and nose ring hadn't scared Lydia off at first, the large scale tattoo along the length of her arm surely had.

"Let's hurry this up." The black lipstick smacked as she spoke, dragging Stiles to the back of his room. The boy grinned and followed willingly. Twenty-five minutes later and Lydia had thanked the lord they were being quiet, a pair of headphones no where in sight.

A loud "OH, SHIT!" from Stiles sounded from his room, a moment later the purple haired girl comes out fully clothed, her lips now void of any black lipstick that had been there earlier.
"You might want to give him a minute. He's slightly out of breath." She smirks, slamming the door behind her. Lydia would definitely not get over this anytime soon.

Stiles comes back into the main room with sweatpants on and. No. Shirt. He clutched his chest with one hand, the skin heaving up and down with large gulps of breath. She tried desperately to ignore the black lipstick smudge on his right hip.
"You okay there little buddy?" Lydia asks and he nods.

"Yeah it's just..." He takes a few breaths. "Sarah has a boyfriend who wants to wait for marriage so she likes to make things quick..." One large gulp of air. "Jesus I need to work out." He places his hands on his hips.

I'd beg to differ, Lydia thinks to herself, eyeing his torso with interest. He seems to notice, quirking a brow at her while a smirk arises on his face.
"And what about you, princess?" Stiles inquires, sitting on the arm rest of the couch as he finally seemed to regain some breath.
"What about me?" Lydia asks.
"I've never seen a promise ring on your finger." He crosses his arms over his chest.