Realized

Realize (1)

Third Person P.O.V.

Stiles and Lydia were shaking hands, one of them having a real smile, while the other one had on a fake smile. Lydia had told Stiles that the kiss in the locker room was only to stop his panic attack, and said that they should just stay friends, nothing more, nothing less. Of course Stiles would have agreed on automatic, but he was hurting on the inside to say anything. Stiles loved Lydia like crazy, and for Lydia to say that kissed meant nothing to her, was the totally the opposite of what Stiles had felt during that kiss.

Stiles felt like the world was finally spinning in the right direction, that it was just the two of them, and that nothing could ruin it for him. Stiles had new found hope in that kiss, that the Lydia Martin actually could like the Stiles Stilinski. But all hope was crushed when she had said just friends. Of course Stiles agrees, but he hesitated, he hesitated to agree to only be Lydia's friend, but gave in because he rather be somewhat in her life rather than not.

When the two were done shaking hands, Stiles immediately left without saying goodnight or goodbye as usual, but Lydia was a little bit happy. Lydia was happy to get that out of the way, she thought it would have been harder to say it, but to her the situation flew by like a breeze. She didn't want Stiles to think that she had feelings for him, but she still had a little bit of her old self in her. Where she still cares about popularity, and the thought of dating Stiles put a bad taste in her mouth.

By the time Stiles had managed to go into his jeep, tears were already coming out of his eyes like a river. Stiles left the Martin house without looking back, he didn't want to look back. He didn't want to look back of what he wished was there. Where he wished that Lydia didn't mean what she said, that she wanted to be more than friends, but she was just too stupid to realize. But Stiles knew reality too well, he knew Lydia wouldn't be there, instead she would be in her house, probably asleep considering what time it was.

But Stiles didn't want to go home, he wanted to talk somebody, the person he trusted the most. Stiles was heading to the cemetery, where he could see his Mom, his best friend, and his world. Every time Stiles would talk to his Mom, he would keep her updated to what's happening in Beacon Hills lately. But somehow, Stiles would always end up talking about Lydia, like she was a component to everything happening, and when her name would pop up in the subject, Stiles would change the subject, and talk about her. About how his love for Lydia would be infinite, and nothing could change that. About how she would always do something as casual as walking down the halls, and Stiles would trip just starring at her, and her beauty. Sometimes, Stiles would even tell his Mom of how he wished Lydia would be Rose, and him being Jack.

When Stiles stopped at a red light, he had gotten a text. He looked at his screen and saw that it was his Dad.

Dad: Stiles come home, it's getting late.

As soon as the light turned green, Stiles had made a U-turn, and was heading towards the direction of his house.

The ride home wasn't easy for Stiles. He was just a complete emotional wreck. Stiles had nobody to talk to, even tough he talked to his Mom, he sometimes wishes she can talk back but she can't. But every single one in the pack expected that Stiles was always fine, but the were all wrong as hell. Stiles was human like everyone else, he has feelings like everyone else. They all thought they can lean on him when they're down, but who can Stiles lean on? Nobody, that's who. He had nobody to tell how he felt when he was sad or mad or any other emotion. So Stiles just kept on crying more, he was having a hard time staying in the right lane. As Stiles was wiping his tears away with his right hand, that was enough for him to swerve into the left lane. BAMM

Stiles woke up, unaware of what was happening. His vision was blurry, and his head was in so much pain. He tried getting up, but every part of his body felt numb. The pain was too much for his body, making him black out.