Beautiful Sadness

Protect. Don't possess. - EDITED

Lydia

The girls huddle together on the concrete flags outside their dorm, a cool breeze settling over the campus, a relief from the overwhelming heat of the day.

"So." The taller girl turns to her best friend, peering deep into her emerald eyes practically looking at the girls soul with a knowing glance.

"So?" Lydia raises her chin to meet Allison's gaze nonchalantly, her cool exterior giving nothing away to any onlooker, a nosy stranger trying to pry would revive nothing but an icy detachment, one only a best friend could see past.

"Stiles? You like him?" Allison keeps her eyes on the smaller girl, watching as her strawberry blondes back hits the stone wall, an impassive sigh coming from her plump lips.

"I've known the guy a few hours Alli. Chill. Seriously, I don't want a guy right now, I want friends. Real friends." Lydia closes her eyes, her mind fluttering through the previous year, giving Lydia an instant headache. Her manicured fingers press against her temple and she opens her eyes to peer at her best friend. The brunette smiles, a warm genuine smile at the strawberry blonde before turning towards the two muscular statures coming towards them, one with a smirk, the other with a smile. Lydia knew which one she preferred and, luckily for her best friend, it was the former.

"Hey, you girls ready to go? It's not far, the clubs only ten minutes walk." Scott stops in front of Allison, giving the girl an appreciative glance, taking in her low-cut shirt and shorts, before meeting her eyes appropriately. Her best friend blushes, smiling at Scott with the usual warmth typically focused on her best friend. Stiles was at Lydia's side, almost magnetically, he looked the strawberry blonde up and down, following his best friends suit and taking in her short black backless dress and heels, a leather jacket hung over her arm. Lydia looks at the boys ever growing smirk with a coy smile breaking out over her lips.

"Stiles."

"Hm?"

"My eyes are up here."

Stiles

"Yes, but your legs are down there." The words tumbled out of the boys mouth before he could stop them. The comeback would usually have earned him at the least a cutting glance but the girl just raised her eyebrows, seemingly impressed.

"Touché. Look, I hate to break up this little appreciative stare thing you guys have got going on but I'm freezing my tits off here." The strawberry blonde turns to face the two others, snapping them out of their daze, her hair swirling around her waist, a golden waterfall.

"Ah, we wouldn't want that firecracker." Stiles smirks at the girl again, as she presses her lips together, holding in a laugh before turning back to the boy.

"You are just asking for your balls shoved down your throat Stilinski." The boy laughs under his breath before shaking his head and taking a step forward in the direction of the correct concrete path, laced with fallen leaves.

"Then lets go."

A stupidly repetitive beat with absolutely no lyrics blasted from the private room, people were stood crowded in cliques holding onto their red cups for dear life as 3 or 4 guys tried in vain to create a dry slip-n-slide along the wooden floor. It was chaos, and Stiles loved it.

"Lydia, you want to help me with the drinks?" Stiles places a hand on the strawberry blondes waist and stoops down to meet her ear. He feels her nod against his shoulder and he leads her through the crowd towards the bar. The pair order, reeling off their respective friends favourite drinks before leaning again a pillar situated directly next to the wooden surface, stained with years of spilt drinks. Lydia brushing up against Stiles every time someone walked too close and the boy loved it, relishing in every feel and contour of the girls small frame. They don't bother trying to find their friends in the mass of people, only relocating once into a small booth.

"How many guys numbers did you get yesterday firecracker?" The tall boy stretched beneath the table, his leg nudging the girls, she doesn't even flinch, it's not uncomfortable Stiles realises, he feels comfortable around the girl, himself.

"8 guys, 2 girls." The girl rolls her eyes as the boys eyebrows shoot up, still unable to control her smile.

"Fuck me." The muttered words somehow reach the girls ears above the music and she grins.

"Gladly." The boy looks up and smirks in response to the girl, a whole conversation held in that one glance.

The pair are joined by their friends no longer than 5 minutes later, although neither really acknowledge them, swept up in their conversation, laughing frequently as Stiles cracks a dirty joke or Lydia makes a passive aggressive comment which the brunette was beginning to realise was the opposite of uncommon.

"I'm going to get a beer, you want anything?" Stiles looks down at the still sitting strawberry blonde, her doe eyes looking up at him, the golden specks glittering as the light hits them.

"I'll help you. We might as well get the lovebirds a refill." Lydia nods pointedly at the pair, Allison sat in Scotts lap, stealing kisses. These chicks worked fast.
Stiles hand retakes it's place on Lydias waist almost naturally before guiding her to the bar for the second time that evening.

"Y'know as much as I like you and Scott if he breaks my best friends heart I will hunt your asses down and hurt you." The girl reaches over and grabs the drink from the bartender who flashes her an elongated look before smiling and turning away, the strawberry blonde didn't seem to notice but Stiles did and he didn't like it, his hand finding the girls waist again, surprising himself as he realised it wasn't sexual. He wanted to protect her. Protect his new friend. The strawberry blonde glanced up at him, comfortable with his touch which was surprising considering he was a complete stranger a day before. Stiles smiled down at her, not moving his hand and leading her towards their booth.

"Yeah, I have an invite, hold up." The voice merges in with the crowd for the taller boy but the small girl in front of him stiffens, stopping suddenly before whirling around and standing on her tip toes, looking at the door. Her eyes scan behind the boys shoulder as he watches the green orbs flash in all different directions before resting on something, the colour flooding from her face, pale behind her summer tan.

"Jackson." The girl mutters, her voice cracking slightly, causing Stiles to turn and follow Lydia's gaze, finally settling on a stocky guy, his hair and clothes immaculate. He didn't look like he should be here. The stocky boy who Stiles guessed was Jackson turned to face Stiles, looking the boy dead in the eye before falling to the small frame by his side, his mouth dropping open before he clenched his jaw and pushed his way through the crowd.

"Lyds, who is that guy? He's fucking cree-" Stiles trails off as the dirty blonde boy appears in front of them, meters away. Lydia moves forward slightly, causing Stiles' hand to slip from her back as the boy nears.

"Jackson, what are you doin-" The strawberry blonde shrinks at the sight of him, her heels doing no good.

"What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing Lydia? You haven't returned any of my calls. We need to talk, now." The boy took a step towards Lydia and she replied with a quick step back, not letting the boy too close Stiles noticed, forcing him instinctively closer.

"Hey, man, I don't think she wants you here." The taller boy takes half a step in front of Lydia, the smirk falling from his face as Lydia gripped his arm secretly, her hands clammy, but her face showed no emotion. Void.

"And who the fuck are you? Have you fucked him too Lydia? Huh?"

"Look bro-" Again, Stiles takes another step forward, unable to miss the venom lacing Jackson's tone, but before any other preventative action can be taken, a hand lands on his back, calming him before meeting Jacksons glare.

"I saw a spare room. 5 minutes." She nods at Stiles, emphasising the 5 minutes as she turns and stalks away from Jackson, the smaller boy following his fists clenched. Swallowing, Stiles briefly notices the rapid beating of his heart, the drumming echoing along his ear drum as he squints down at his watch in the dark.

1:46.
Five minutes.
That's all the motherfucker was getting.
He didn't like this.

He didn't like him.