Toxic Waste

11.sorry kid

She was a dream. She was also very annoying but a dream none the less. He spotted her across the room within seconds, giving Scott a whack on the head with a clipboard and he snickered before returning his attention to the lunch line.

"So I really get to go Friday?" Stiles asks Isaac who was simultaneously eating what was already on his tray and putting more food on. He nods, savagely biting into a roll.
"You won't be doing anything major but yeah."
And was it bad for him to be excited about this? Because he felt childish about to grin that spread across his face.

The past few days, Stiles had begun to notice things about everyone, things that made him slightly uneasy. He heard stories from Malia about how she had found Kira at fourteen, practically starving on the side of the road. Her parents had kicked her out and Malia's father had been nice enough to take her in. He timidly questioned Erica's crooked fingers while playing a game of cards to which she responded, "bashed with a sledgehammer two years ago on a job." And that was the end of that.

But what disturbed him the most where the cigarette burns dotting the inside of Isaac's arm. The curly haired boy had been in the middle of telling a story when he'd caught Stiles staring and his laughter fell into a knowing smile. He understood the curiosity.
"I'll tell you later, Newbie. Scouts honor." He promised before launching back into his tale.

Stiles always assumed Dad's were the bad guys. He didn't know mothers could be too.

"His mom was a chain smoker." Lydia explained, repositioning Stiles arm as he aims the gun at a target. "Father wasn't much better, threw shit at him. Locked him in a freezer when he would get in trouble." She told him to breath, relax, resting her chin on his shoulder as she had the other day. "When you're ready." She whispered.

He hesitated, gently pulling the trigger and–BANG.

The gunshot rang through his ears and his vision was hazy. He could faintly hear Lydia calling his name, telling him she didn't know it was loaded, apologizing profusely. He stumbled to the floor, the girl sitting down with him and watching him with wide eyes as he spaced out.

"Sorry, kid."

It was an odd thing, his deep breaths and the way he covered his ears, bringing his knees to his chest and closing his eyes tight. Like he was trying to hide, trying to forget something. Her hand met his own, bringing it away from his face and his eyes opened.
"You want me to show you something?" She asks, hoping to take his mind away from other places. He seemed to relax, nodding while taking larger breaths to calm down.
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"I'm sorry.." It was the millionth time Lydia had apologized, setting coffee down for him on the desk. Stiles immediately lunged for it in his place in the desks rolling chair. She smiled, watching him down half of it while sitting in the table top. He liked the fact that she had changed from a pencil skirt to some baggy sweats and a white tee.

"What did you want to show me?" He asks weakly, drinking the rest of his coffee in one gulp like a shot.
"May I?" She hops off of the desk and jesters to his lap to which he gladly moves his hands as the girl uses him for a chair. "Right shoulder..." She brushes her hair to the side as he pulls down her sleeve to reveal a three inch scar. His fingertips brush over the skin tenderly and she chuckles. "We all have our battle scars."

"How come I never noticed before?" He asks as she stands, making her way to the couch before plopping herself down on the white leather. Stiles stands as well and double claps, the room turning black. He grabs his mug and goes to the kitchen for more coffee as she continues.
"I could ask the same thing to a guy I've seen shirtless way too many times....when I was thirteen my dad went ballistic and stabbed me in the back. Literally and figuratively." She briefly explains.

Stiles furrowed his brows, glancing at the girl. He hadn't known it when she said everyone had a past, but that included her.
"Knives made me a little uneasy...Of course I had to get used to it, working for a guy who owns an ancient French dagger collection." She was twirling a strand of her hair now. She was curled into herself, staring almost aimlessly around so he decided to change the topic.

"What's he like? Parks, I mean." Stiles clears his throat. Curiosity overtook him and he wanted to learn more about the man she spent all of her time with. And Lydia hated lying to him. There was no man roaming these floors besides him. "Sweet I suppose. Down to earth, not the type to typically run a place like this." She chuckles. This made him nervous as he grabs his new cup of coffee and rounds the couch.
"And you two have....uh?" He nods in the general direction of the bedroom while taking a seat next to her.

Lydia eyes him. Why was he curious.
"No, no, we're not like that...more of an uncle type person." She clears her throat, nervous. Stiles felt relieved, he didn't even know why.
"Do you think he would approve of me?" Stiles chuckles, meaning it as a joke. Lydia shifted, looking down to her lap. She really hated lying to him. Like really hated it.
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
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Authors note:

BOOM BOOM. I woke up like this, I went to bed like this.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe