Complex » Stydia

5.

His hands shook as he held the phone in his hand, staring at the ceiling fan slowly rotating above him. Stiles was trying to fall asleep in the spare room upstairs, because he was still staying over at Scott's house, but was having several difficulties. 

Every time he shut his eyes, he kept thinking about Lydia. 

It broke his heart seeing her cry, as it always has. One of his weaknesses was seeing the people he cared about in pain or agony, and Lydia was no exception. It was even worse considering that Stiles was the one who caused her pain. 

God, he's such an idiot. 

It was well passed midnight, and Stiles couldn't stop thinking about how that was probably the last he would ever hear about Lydia. But he fucked up so badly that Stiles wanted to literally hop out of his bed, drive over to her house and knock on the door, begging her for forgiveness. 

Stiles had called her and left countless messages. It was difficult to even dial her number considering that he hadn't called her in years. He had to basically beg Kira for her new phone number, but it was a shock that it was the same number that he had saved onto his phone from high school. 

Sighing, he decided to be stupider than he thought was humanly possible and slipped out of the bed. It was so dark in the room, and once Stiles stumbled towards the nearest bedroom light, he pulled off his navy pajama pants and threw on a pair of black sweatpants. 

Because, apparently, asking Lydia for forgiveness meant changing out of his pajamas into something much more formal--sweats. 

Deciding the stay in his grey shirt, Stiles crept down the stairs, using incredible strength to not wake up Scott and Kira. They were being so gracious to let him sleep in their house for the next few days until he had to go home. And how was he using their gift? By leaving their house to go visit a girl. 

But it wasn't any girl. 

It was Lydia. 

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Ringing the doorbell, Stiles arrived at her address, praying that she was there. Once Lydia went home, Isaac told him that she was staying over at her old house for the week. Which meant that Lydia was 100%, so if she doesn't open the door then it meant that she was really pissed. 

Or that she was sleeping. 

Shit. Stiles couldn't tell if waking her up from her sleep was worse than knocking on her door at two AM. Running his hands up and down his bare arms, he shivered and pressed the doorbell twice. 

After a few minutes of impatiently knocking on the door, he gasped as the door flew open. Eyes wide, Lydia stood there bundled in a large blanket. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Stiles heard her mumble before starting to close the door on him.

"Wait, wait, Lydia! Hear me out,"  he exclaimed quickly, watching Lydia sigh before looking over her shoulder into the dark corridor. It was clear that her parents weren't home, because not only was it pitch black, but they would have opened the door for Stiles. 

Biting her lip, the redhead reached over and flicked the lights on behind her, and Stiles watched as the inside of the house lit up. 

"Stiles, you know it's like two in the morning, right?" Lydia demanded with cold eyes, teeth gritted as she shivered. But although one chill ran down her spine, it was nothing compared to how freezing Stiles was. 

Nodding, he refrained from yelling, "yes, and it's really cold so can I come inside?"

Pretending to think about the answer, Lydia ran just one finger on the doorframe. "Um, I don't know, why would I--"