loving lydia | stydia

Fourteen.

The music was thumping against the floor, and strobe lights gave Stiles a migraine and he only just walked through the door. Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe he should of stayed home with Lydia.

"Stiles? Wanna play beer pong?" Malia shouted over the vibrating drum and base sound. Stiles was taken out of his daze as he sent a small smile towards her. Malia smirked as she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the living room where there was indeed a ping pong table with red solo cups filled with mixtures of different beers and shots lined up in a perfect triangle.

Although, maybe Stiles needed this. After all, he might be a father. This was his last night to be a free man, and drink away his problems, even if it lasted a night.

Stiles watched as countless teenagers lined up to throw the small, delicate ball into the cups. A small laugh escaped his lips as a kid missed it three times in a row, and sulked near enough the whole night.

His mood seemed to lighten a little, maybe it was because now one of the red solo cups was in his hand, and nearly empty. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, the taste of vodka and coke lingered and his emotions high on excitement.

"Wow, I'm drunk." Stiles laughed, but then a serious expression spread across his face. "Did I say that out loud?" His eyebrows furrowed together, not noticing Malia staring him down like a hawk, batting her eyelashes continuously trying to get the confused boys attention.

"Yeah you did." She laughed. Malia grabbed his hand, and lead him to the dance floor, colourful lights danced on the floor along with countless underage teenagers.

Malia started to dance on Stiles, swaying back and forth to the upbeat music. She was facing him, with her hands around his neck. She looked at his eyes, then his lips, then to his eyes again as she leaned in and planted a kiss on Stiles lips. Stiles kissed back, but it felt different. The way her lips moved, the way her tongue tasted. It wasn't who he loved, it wasn't Lydia.

Stiles gently grabbed Malia's shoulders and pulled her back. His cup dropped out of his hand, which was a stain to happen on the wooden flooring.

"I-uh. I need to leave." Stiles stumbled through the crowd, as he tripped over people's feet. He got into his Jeep and slammed the worn out, rusty door. His hand ran over his lips, pinching the bottom on in destress. He left the party early as he checked his watch.

"Fuck, shit!" Stiles shouted, banging his fist on the steering wheel, causing it to beep and Stiles jump. He knew it, he knew he fucked up.

If only he knew that someone had the kiss recorded.

Lydia led on the couch that night, smiling as she knew her somewhat argument with Stiles was okay. She turned to the TV where she was watching Scream Queens, obsessed with the Chanel's and their sense of style.

Her phone pinged, as she looked at her lock screen.
'Adele Marshall is now Live.'
She opened her Facebook app and watched Adele's video, the strobe lights blinding the camera and the music making a horrible static sound.

Then, her eyes furrowed as she saw him. She has her hands around her neck, and by Stiles facial expressions she could tell he was very drunk.

She leaned in, and Lydia watched Stiles kiss back but then the camera turned to another couple hungrily and disgustingly making out on the couch.

Lydia's blood turned hot, as did her forehead. Her breathing started to become heavy and started sobbing. One of those cried where you literally make whale sounds. Lydia put her hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat rising. Was she having a panic attack? The room started to spin as her arms started to feel heavy and numb. She didn't know what was happening, it felt like she was dying. She picked up her phone and rang the ambulance. Her words barley audible and the person on the other line struggled to make out what she was saying.

This is it. This is was heart break feels like. She rubbed her eyes to try and stay up, but she fell and all that surrounded her was darkness.

Lydia awoke while the paramedics rushed through her front door, as she looked around she saw she was on the floor of her hallway.

"Miss, are you okay?" The ambulance worker asked, Lydia nodded, knowing full well she isn't.

"Were gonna take you in just to check up. Have you got anything you need us to know?"

"I-I might be pregnant." Lydia's voice was cracking, and she cringed at it. It was probably because her voice was hurting from all that screaming.

"Okay ma'am, stand up carefully and we'll get you going." The woman said, grabbing Lydia's elbow, helping her keep steady.

------

Lydia has just had her check up, and everything was fine. She was sat here, in the dimly lit room, waiting to find out if she was pregnant or not. She wanted Stiles to be with her when she found out. Stiles. Even his name made her want to burst out into tears. She could feel her nose tingling as she was trying to hold it in, but she let a few tears slip. Only to wipe them away when a doctor came in with a clip board.

"Hey, Lydia. How are you feeling?" The woman sat down on a rolling char in front of Lydia.

"I'm fine." Lydia forced a small smile.

"So, is there anything you wanna ask me before I tell you what's going on?" The doctor smiled a warm smile, which made Lydia feel a little better.

"Yeah, uh, what's the time?" Lydia asked. The doctor chuckled at her, expecting an answer about what happened.

"It's, 9:47pm." She smiled. "Now Lydia. You thought you were pregnant?" She asked in a questioning tone.

"Yeah." Lydia replied. Her stomach began to flutter as she became nervous.

"Well, you were correct. Congratulations Lydia, your a mother."

------

The morning rose, as Lydia's alarm clock sang a tune which she was sick off. She didn't have to go in today, she didn't want to, but she had a test today and she could fail. She remembered her news last night and smiled a small smile of comfort. She picked and prodded at her soon to be bump.

"Hey you." She whispered. She knew the baby couldn't hear her yet, but it made her feel nice and have a purpose.

Lydia done her make up lightly, applying pink lipgloss that shimmered in the light. She went to her wardrobe and picked out a floral knee height dress with long sleeves, and a pair of brown heels. Her purse was perched on her dresser as she picked it up and slung the thin, spaghetti strap over her shoulder.

She slowly walked down the stairs sideways, because of her heels and all, and went to make herself some coffee, but frowned as she didn't have decaf. Being pregnant is already tough.

She checked herself in the long mirror one more time, before grabbing her car keys and headed out the door.

Now, avoid Stiles.