ROAD TO SERENITY | stydia [✔️]

70 // no answers - amber run

The airport was in front of them.

Stiles never thought about her leaving. Every time his mind would focus on her, on her trip to LA, on them, it would never reach the point where they now found themselves. It would always stop before. It never even occurred to him in the past few days that she was going to leave; not like this. He knew it would happen but it seemed months away, like a train that's coming but never does. Like waiting for a train at an abandoned station, knowing trains don't arrive to them.

It never seemed real. Not until now; with the big building in front of him, dozens of people walking around with their luggage and friends and family, he couldn't push it away. They've lived minute by minute for the past few days, but the hourglass was running out of sand. Their minute was clinging on sand particles set to fall down.

He always thought distance would be their biggest enemy. Time was what he'd never thought of.

"So..." he spoke.

Who would've thought that his old, piece of shit Jeep that he'd inherited from his mother would be the place where they would delay the reality. Every moment, every minute they spent in it, they kept it at arm's reach. As soon as they would open the door, let the rush of the airport in, it was going to be over. They were going to be sucked into a system where they simply couldn't be together – not how they wanted to be.

He dreaded looking at her. There was a chance she felt the same as he did but there was also a chance that she wanted to go, to see her friends and family – all the people he hadn't thought of once in the big picture. Only few hours ago did it dawn on him that she has an entire different life back in Canada and he'd seen only glimpses of her. She had people she loved and she looked forward to seeing them.

One glimpse. That was all he allowed himself, one glimpse at her through the rear-view mirror. Her hair was a little messy from the morning and it looked a little more red than usual; her plump lips were coated in light red lipstick and lip balsam; her chin was pushed out a little and her head was tilted. She was looking at him, long and curved eyelashes framing shielding the green from his sight; a sigh escaped his lips.

"Yeah," she said.

Neither moved. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel and he continued watching the people in front of them – all blending into a mass of faces he couldn't care about if he wanted. People with families and friends, happy because they are going to see them, sad because they are going to leave them. People dressed in formal attire, rushing with a phone on their ear, avoiding the groups hugging.

People with stories, just like theirs, all worth telling but without someone to do so. They couldn't just be a story to tell – they were a story that was still being written. She hadn't left yet; they were still out of the system.

They were still taking things minute by minute. A minute more is nothing for the big picture but everything for them.

But the minute was up.

"We should probably go inside." His voice was hoarse and he wasn't even sure she heard him.

The door opened and hot summer air blasted in his face. He could feel time running out with every beat of his heart; he swallowed dryly. Not once did he check she left the Jeep, too. He walked to the back and took her luggage out, placing the suitcase on the concrete.

Sound of steps arrived before her. "Thanks."

He forced himself to look up. He forced himself to smile. "Let's go."

"Yeah." She wasn't smiling, only giving him a nod.

There was an odd sense of déjà vu in his fingers; last time he carried her luggage, they were walking in the opposite direction and the situation was awkward in a completely different way. Back then, he didn't know what to say and now he had more than a million things to say, but not one passed over his lips.

There was no tension between them. No sadness, no hard feelings, nothing. They proceeded towards the airport and breezes brushed his face but nothing felt as warm and as gentle as her hands touching it. He ran his tongue over his dry lips but a memory of hers on his flashed. There was a million things he wished he could hold onto forever yet they were already slipping out of his reach.

Minute by minute turned into second by second.

He got everything ready because one look at her was enough for him to see something was wrong. She rubbed her palms with her thumbs and her chest rose and fell too fast, her lips parted and closed one too many times. She didn't have to say anything.

They sat in the waiting room. He couldn't remember the last time either of them said anything consisting of more than five words. Even looking at her was unbearable.

"So," he began again. "What happens now?"

She was quiet for a while. "I don't know."

He took her hand in his. It was a little cold. "Listen, Lydia – I don't regret any of what happened. And I don't want it to be all. And if you think this could work, I'd like to try."

"Us?" Her voice was soft and quiet; she sounded frightened and vulnerable.

"Yeah." He looked at her; she was a little pale, but there was a smile in the corners of her lips. He smiled at her. "Don't say anything now. Just promise to think about it, whatever the answer. Okay?"

"Okay."

They called her flight number over the intercom. She looked over at the flight times display and he noticed the tears in her eyes. For the first time, he thought of the possibility that maybe she didn't want to go.

He followed her to the terminal, to the very point where he couldn't pass without a ticket. The flight number was called again but she didn't even flinch. Her eyes not once left his.

She kissed him. Soft and gentle, cupping his cheeks with her little hands, pulling him closer. The kiss turned into a hug and he didn't ever want to let her go. "Thank you."

He hugged her tighter.

The flight number was called and she let go of him. With a small wave, she disappeared behind the doors. He watched her board the plane and waited until he watched it separate from the ground and then until he could no longer see it. He stayed there a little longer, lingering on the beautiful sense of a different reality they'd lived in for the short five days.

Stiles walked out of the airport with a smile on her face because he knew Lydia wasn't gone and it wasn't over.

And so the last chapters of this story comes to an end, opening another.

[and the another story is also written by yours truly, titled 'chasing banshee'. you can either go and add it to your library right now, it's on my account, or proceed reading the epilogue, which i recommend.]