Stydia | oneshots

Whispering wind

She'd been sitting at her desk when it happened. The familiar clenching in her chest. A fist that opened and closed around her heart, keeping it in a cage of fear and impending doom. The pressure at the pit of her stomach that would only stop if she let the scream come tumbling out of her mouth.

The time did not pass in a paradoxically linear fashion after the scream. It almost never did. One moment she was staring at her computer screen, then she would find herself standing in front of an old warehouse, being held back by Deputy Parrish as she fought to go past the caution tape. She couldn't' remember how or when she had gotten there, but she could remember the exact moment she had realized something was deeply wrong.

It was probably the sight of Scott sitting at the back of an ambulance, head in his hands, shoulders sagged down far deeper than Lydia had ever seen them. She could feel the tears falling down his face, though she wasn't sure how. Maybe it had been Kira kneeling in front of him silently.

Police officers wheeled out a gurney with a black bag laying on top of it. The type of black bag used for bodies. She saw the Sheriff walk forward and hesitantly lift the top of the bag before falling to his knees on the asphalt, hands clinging to the plastic.

She threw Parrish's arm off of her and ran towards the scene.

Sheriff Stilinski looked up at her for a moment, his eyes read hers for a moment and then travelled back to the ground.

"I'm sorry." His throat let out a gust of air between sobs. "I'm so sorry."

Her legs moved forward despite her mind screaming at them to stop. Her body had stopped listening and she was now only a spectator to her moving limbs.

No tears escaped her eyes when she lifted the plastic gently out of the Sheriff's hands to reveal Stiles' face. Brown eyes open. Unseeing.

She had grown so used to seeing them every day. Alive as he smiled and dark as he cried. They had warmed her even in the darkest of days. Now they seemed darker. Paler than they had been.

She ran her fingers through his hair, gently working through the gel he had grown fond of using. She could feel a lump at the back of his head, clumped with thick blood. Her hands shook as she drew them away from his hair and down his face, fingers slowly closing his eyelids.

Nothing more than a sleeping boy, she told herself.

She leaned down next to his ear and whispered something that had been long overdue, then pressed a small kiss to his forehead. The bag was zipped closed before she could have a chance to hold his hand one last time.

Instead she held the Sheriff's hand, as they both sat on the damp asphalt in front of an old warehouse where the boy they had both loved so differently had let his heart beat one last time.

She held his hand until he finally let go and left her standing, a week later, on the hill overlooking the cemetery. The wind blowing cold November air through her hair. She could almost hear the words she'd said to him in the wind. Almost. If she listened closely enough, she see the smile in his voice, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered softly:

I love you too.

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Omg it's been forever since i wrote a one-shot

Sorry about that i had showchoir practice 12 hours a day everyday this week and i was just really tired when i got home and never got time to write.

I HOPE EVERYONE HAD A GREAT EASTER!
(Or just a great holiday if you don't celebrate easter!) :)