After All This Time

Be Still

Lydia moved across the room slowly, pulling out a pair of black pumps and and a black dress. The dress was simple, hugging her curves and falling mid thigh. She was trying to figure out how less than a week ago her mother was telling her to follow her heart and laughing with her, and now Lydia was getting dressed for her funeral.

Lydia had a (what everyone else called unrealistic) fear of happiness. It seemed that every time she felt like something was completely right, everything would go terribly and horribly wrong. So she decided pain was easier than happiness, at least then no one she loved would get hurt, she was the only one who would have to suffer.

For once she didn't think about how her happiness would affect other people. She put her hyper-vigilance up on a old dusty shelf for a couple of hours, and her mom died soon after. She let go of all logic and reason for one night falling hopelessly in love, an amount of time she would never get with her mother again. She would never get another day, another hour, another minute, not even another second with her, and she had so much she didn't say.

She felt warm tears threatening to escape her eyes, she didn't feel like crying anymore. She felt like maybe it took more work than it was worth, maybe it was just hurting her more. She walked over to the mirror, it had taken a lot of concealer to hide the puffiness, that would just be washed away from tears through out the day. Her waterproof mascara was threatening to clump together, using her tears as some kind of glue.

"No, Lydia. You do not get to cry forever. Pull yourself together." She spoke in a rushed voice, harsh and cold. It would have been something her mom would have said to her, in a sweet tone of course, after a break up in high school or a bad day. But her mom was gone, so she'd have to do it on her own now.

She slipped the black dress on, leaving it unzipped. She would wait a couple of minutes to collect herself and then she would call Allison in to zip her up, smiling and pretending to be okay. She's gotten good at that. She's also gotten good at taking extremely deep breaths, the kind that could help her keep the tears in her eyes and the sobs in her throat.

All of her efforts failed, of course. She felt the tears slipping down her face. There was a soft knock to the door, and no space in between for her to answer, the door swinging open immediately. She expected Allison, who had been checking in on her every half hour for a week. Instead she saw Stiles. He was wearing a suit, and for once his hair wasn't a complete mess, which she decided made her feel unsettled, everything did at the moment. Stiles saw the unzipped dress, turning his head slightly, it was his way of giving her privacy.

"Sorry, do you need me to get Allison?" He saw the tears wetting her cheeks, and his heart began to break. Not for himself but for the girl he had been in love with since forever. Since before his own mother died.

"No, just come zip me up." She said, turning her back to him. Her voice was a little rough, a result from the combination of too much crying and too little sleep. He didn't want to ask her how she was doing, he already knew the answer. She wasn't okay, and that was an understatement. So he walked over obediently, pulling the small zipper up her back, and feeling his hands brush her skin, he wanted to be close to her. He wanted her to know he was there.

She walked over to the mirror, pulling out her makeup bag and putting more concealer under her eyes. He stayed behind, watching her face through the reflection.

She looked different. Like her head was suddenly too heavy for her shoulders, like her heart ached with every beat it took. Her voice didn't hold the tiredness of waking up anymore, it held the tiredness if never going to sleep, and the plead for rest from her own brain shouted at the way she looked at him. Her eyes had turned from a glimmering emerald to a dull green, still beautiful, but beautifully tortured.