Disconnected [allydia]

10 days gone

SS: hey. how r u holdin up?

LM: not great

SS: i'll b right over

Nearly ten minutes passed before someone knocked at the door. Lydia lifted herself out of bed and made her way downstairs slowly.

Stiles had bags under his eyes so noticeable it looked as though someone had taken violet acrylics and used him as a canvas. He wrapped Lydia in a warm hug, and she noticed his hand twitching as it wrapped around her waist. When he pulled away, his eyes were full.

He brushed a thumb under his eye, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "I guess I'm not doing so well either."

The two made their way back up to Lydia's bedroom, where they sat on the bed across from each other.

Lydia grabbed a pillow and held it over her crossed legs, clutching it to her chest. "Have you been sleeping?"

Stiles shrugged. "I can only get rest when I'm at Derek's. Anytime I stay home, I just lie awake all night."

"Derek's?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "He's like, my rock. I only really feel safe when I'm with him, at his place. Otherwise, I just keep replaying that night, over and over. I just always feel so... Void."

"Numb," Lydia agreed.

They sat in quiet for a moment, each staring at one of the room's walls. Stiles shifted, ran a hand across his unshaven cheek. His fingers were still twitching.

When Lydia continued to stare at his moving hand, he took note. "Anxiety's acting up again," Stiles explained. "Panic attacks almost every day, too. This happened during one, and then it just... Didn't stop." He stared at his fingers, moving against his will every few seconds. "I've kept up with my meds and stuff but it's like the sleep and the numbness - I can't seem to beat it."

"Well, you're doing better than Scott is." When Stiles give her a questioning look, she continued in explanation. "He's become a total drunk. Called me the other night, had me pick him up from a party - he wasn't even there to talk to people, he just wanted to take advantage of the drinks. He said he wanted to 'fill the hole that Allison left.' I think he's just trying to drown himself in beer."

Stiles looked seriously disappointed. "I thought packs were supposed to deal with this stuff together, you know?" He ran his hands over his face and messed up his hair again. "I didn't think I'd end up feeling so alone."

Lydia put a hand on his shoulder, mustered up a tiny smile. "You've got me, Stiles."

The corners of his lips turned up barely in a thankful, sad smile. "You seem to be the only one who's actually managing to keep it together through this."

She laughed quietly, a grim, breathy sound. "Actually, I'd say I'm-"

Lydia was interrupted by a knock at the door. Stiles checked his phone. "That's Derek. I'm going to head over to his place and try to sleep for a few hours."

She withdrew her hand. "Oh, alright. Yeah. I'll... Walk you downstairs?"

When Lydia opened the door, she found a towering Derek. Even his eyes looked sad for a few moments, until they fell upon Stiles and lit with a sense of protectiveness and affection.

Derek nodded at Stiles, who had perked up upon his arrival. "Stiles, you can hop in the car. I'll be right there."

With a quick wave at Lydia and a sad smile, Stiles was gone, leaving Lydia with the massive, intimidating Derek Hale on her doorstep.

Derek sighed. "I don't want to be this asshole." He continued when she raised a quizzical brow. "You know- the super protective, 'overdoing it' boyfriend. But Stiles... Stiles is taking this so hard. He's only okay, as far as I can tell, when he's with me and away from the stress and-" Derek sighed again, looking out at Stiles, who sat in the front seat of Derek's car. "I think it would be best if he had some distance from all of you. For his own sake."

Lydia's heart felt further emptied as she realized that Derek had a point. Stiles needed Derek more than Lydia needed Stiles, and his being around the pack would only hurt him more. "I... I understand."

Derek gave her a tiny, sad smile. "Thank you. For looking out for him." He started down the steps before turning back to look at her. "And Lydia?" He paused, searching for words. "I am so, so sorry for your loss." He turned again, leather jacket-covered back retreating down the driveway.

Lydia shut the front door behind her, falling against it and bursting into tears for the millionth time that week.

Two friends gone, three remaining.