Not Impossible.

It was painful, but not impossible.

If only his legs could get him out of his Jeep and take him inside the double doors into the warm local diner he came to love over the past year.

Year.

Everything that one single year could do to him. The reminder of those past few months are what held him as a prisoner inside his cold Jeep. He told Scott he was going to let go. He told himself he was going to let himself feel free, but the pain told him to sit and watch the bright Open sign that was lit at 1:43 AM. Funny how he arrived when it was 9:36 PM.

It had rained and it did no help to keep the metal blue box he called his car, warm. Warmth is what he felt though when he held her hand. Warmth is what his heart felt when he made love to her and held her tight on those sleepless nights.

Lydia Martin was his warmth, and today, he was cold and broken.

"Get up, Stiles" he said with his chattering teeth. "Get the fuck up".

---

If there was anything that Stiles' loved besides lacrosse and baseball, it had to be chimichangas from Sam's Diner and Lydia Martin. The only difference from Lydia and the chimichangas though, was that chimichangas were easy to get. Lydia, well Lydia had became a close friend. A friend who solved Beacon Hill's supernatural problems by his side and with other close friends that have only made his life more stressful. He knew she would never see him more than that, but at least he had Malia to keep him distracted. Though he only hoped she could help him minimize his feelings for Lydia, which was working.

"So, I'll see you tonight?" Malia whispers in his ear. Her breath hot and broken from their recent makeout session in his Jeep. He liked that he could do that to her. It made him feel as if he was finally meaning something to someone.

Stiles grins, taking his hand to her neck and pressing his mouth on her ear, "It's not like my answer is going to make any difference," he bites her ear, slowly releasing the soft tissue. "I'll see you there." He pauses, thinks for point two seconds, and says, "naked."

He was kind of worried that his words would have creeped her out a bit, but in the past four months they have made their weekly night visits into more of a under-the-covers type of visits. He doesn't like to think about it as much though. How his first time was with a girl he barely knew, but yet, trusted her. She had became someone close and of great desire. Someone who was beautiful to him and his body. Someone he liked, but also, it someone who wasn't Lydia.

Stiles had imagined his first time a million different ways, and it was always with Lydia. The boy has had a crush on her since he was eight. Lydia Martin was the girl who sat in front of him with the perfect shiny curls that hanged from her headband and had turned to ask him if he could throw away a piece of paper. It had been a love note from Greenberg. It was the first time he had been mesmerized by her beauty like the other boys in class. Her green eyes staring bright and deeply to his own. Her strawberry blonde long hair with bangs that shaped her round rosy cheeked face. Her pink glittery gel-pen with the feathers that outshined anyone elses simple black Bic pens. Eight year old Stiles with the bowl cut has never said no to her since then.

He realized he was in love with the girl at the age of thirteen when he questioned himself why he was constantly thinking about her. Why, for the past five years, he would save up his five dollar monthly allowances to buy her the biggest anonymous valentines gift. Why he would wake up with a surprise in the mornings. Why he couldn't wait to see her after class even though he was dating Samantha Marks for a week. Why his heart would ache when Jackson Whittemore kissed her cheek for the first time under the biggest slide on the playground.