iMessage | Stydia

17

He tossed another time and groaned. Just as he thought it was a comfortable position, he sat up and yelled out this time. "Fucking hell!" He screamed, throwing one of his pillows at the wall.

Stiles had been trying to sleep for three hours now. He tried sleeping pills but they didn't work. He was beyond tired but he couldn't fall asleep. But it had been like this for days now.

He threw the covers off of his legs and tossed his body onto the other side of the bed. Stiles opened the window that was next to his bed and let the cool breeze of the October air come through.

His phone went off and Stiles looked up. He reached over and grabbed it. He didn't bother looking at the ID. "Hello?" He said groggily.

"It's me..." Lydia's soft voice said with a quiet laugh. He would've laughed too but he was too tired to even tempt one.

"It's almost one, Lyds," Stiles murmured, "Are you okay?"

"No."

Stiles sighed. "Hold on," He said and stood up. He turned his light on and then sat back down onto his bed. "What's going on?"

"I want to tell you," She said quietly, "but face-to-face. Can I come over?" Stiles looked out his window, seeing that his father still wasn't home. He figured, though, since John hadn't came running into his room earlier when Stiles was screaming bloody murder.

"Lyds," He said while rubbing his eyes. "I'm not sure if–"

"Stiles," She said, sounding tired and sad, "Please."

He gave in. "I'll open the door," Stiles said, already on his feet and jogging down his stairs, "Lock the door when you're in and come up to my room."

Lydia could hear the slight sound of resentment in his voice but she pushed it aside. She was going to take what she could get.

"Okay," Was the last thing she said before hanging up with him. He texted her his address a minute later. Her hands were shaky as she put her phone into her small purse and grabbed her keys off of her dresser.

She was still in her pink pajama shorts and a purple tank top as she left her house. She hadn't bothered with putting on normal shoes, just a pair of old flip-flops that barely fit.

She got into her car and buckled herself in. She put her phone on the passenger seat and then started the car. Lydia backed out of her driveway and drove straight to Stiles' house.

–

When Lydia pulled up to the house, she didn't bother with grabbing her purse. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and hopped out of her car.

She walked–more like sprinted–up to the front door. It was unlocked, like Stiles said it would be. Lydia walked in and closed it behind her, pausing only to lock her car with the button on her key. She took off her shoes and made her way up the stairs.

Lydia found Stiles' room, which was very easy to find, considering that it was the only one with the lights on. He was laying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

When she walked in, he looked at her and offered her a minuscule smile. He sat up and Lydia slowly walked towards him. "So what's goin–" She grabbed him by the face and smashed her lips firmly against his.

Stiles was taken aback, not expecting her to do that, at all. But his hands reached up and pulled her down, which deepened the kiss. He slowly leaned back on the bed and she got on, hovering over him.

"I want you," She said, looking down at him. His thumb lightly traced the faint freckles that dotted her cheeks.

"What about Jackson–"

"I want you, Stiles, not him. I choose you."

Writers Note:

Its short

But I'm tired

Very tired

Fuck me

Ok good-

-Night people