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“Stiles, hurry up! You should have left already!” Noah Stilinski yelled to his son.
Stiles was running around his room with only one shoe on. “I'm trying, Dad!” He called back. He finally dropped to the floor to look under the bed. “Aha! Gotcha.” He reached for the shoe and pulled it out, but something else caught his eye. A notebook.
Stiles grabbed the notebook out from under the bed as well. He didn't recognize its leather cover, but noticed the engraved L. Martin at the bottom corner. Lydia must have dropped it when they were studying the other night. You know, this was good! It wouldn't hurt to look over her notes one more time before the test today.
He flipped it open, to see two full pages of script in Lydia's handwriting. Her notes didn't normally look like that. Sometimes I feel like everyone just thinks I'm crazy and that I-
“Whoa!” He exclaimed as he slammed the notebook shut.
“Stiles!”
“Yeah! Coming, Dad!”
“Her diary?” Scott asked his best friend in surprise as he placed a book in his locker.
“Or journal. I don't feel like Lydia is the type of person to write in a diary...you know?” Stiles was leaning against his own locker, eyes fixated on an invisible spot on the wall.
Scott stared blankly at his best friend's response. “I think you're missing the point,” he slammed the locker closed and adjusted his backpack on his shoulder.
“That's...a definite possibility.” Stiles nodded to himself and finally looked at Scott again.
“You have her diary! What are you going to do with it?”
“Give it back, I guess,” he shrugged.
“You mean, you're not going to read it?”
“Why would I read it? It's private. I only read one line, and I already feel like I saw too much.”
“What if you're in it?”
“Why would I be in it?”
Scott shrugged. “I don't know... but I mean.." He shook his head and (way too innocently) said, "You're just going to give it back...so why think about it?”
Stiles raised an eyebrow and glared at his best friend suspiciously. “Why do I feel like we're in an alternate reality at the moment? You're being more like me than me right now.”
“I don't know... it's just... life's been a little dull lately. I mean, it's all supernatural serial killers and ancient resurrected beasts. Give me some good, old-fashioned drama! Hey, maybe you'll find out once and for all how she feels about you.”
"Okay, one, stop watching Lifetime movies. Two, I'm just going to give it back to her.” Stiles said adamantly.
“Give what back to who?”
“Lydia!” Stiles jumped and spun around to face the strawberry-blonde. “Uhh...I was just saying....that I...was," he looked back at Scott, but the werewolf only shrugged as if to say 'It's up to you.' "Going to give a ...book...back to Kira...'s mom.”
“Oh, what book?”
“Uhh-” It came out a few pitches higher than his normal speaking voice. Suddenly, the bell rang, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. “Time for class, don't want to be late.” He began to walk away, but Lydia stopped him.
“Oh, hey, Stiles.”
He halted, but Scott kept walking, turning around to give the human a conspiratorial look. Stiles turned around slowly. “Yeah?”
“You didn't happen to find a notebook in your room did you? I'm missing one.”
“A notebook?” He shook his head. “No, but I'll look when I get home.”
“Thanks. It's really important to me that I find it.”
He nodded and walked away, cursing himself and that stupid so-called best friend Scott McCall.
“You lied to her.” Scott was telling him later over Skype.
“I know.” Stiles groaned. “I don't know why! I could have just handed it to her right then, and all of this would have been over.”
“All of what?”
“All of this inter-turmoil in my brain. The should-I-read-it-or-should-I-not.”
Scott sighed. “Okay, so don't read it. Look, I was wrong before. I got caught up in the excitement, and I'm sorry. You were right. It would be wrong to read it. I mean, honestly, is there anything you could read that would make you feel good about having read it?”
Stiles mulled it over. Any good thing he could think of, he realized, would just make him feel bad afterward. He sighed. “No. You're right. I'll give it back to her tomorrow.”
“You didn't give it back to her?” Scott sighed as he stood in Stiles's bedroom, his best friend's face buried in a pillow.
“I don't know what's wrong with me.” His voice was muffled.
“I messed with your brain. I don't even know why I said anything.”
“But you were right!” Stiles rolled over. “What if I'm in it? Oh! What if she wrote what she wants for Christmas? I could get her the perfect Christmas present!”
“Yeah, and when she asks you how you knew what she wanted, are you going to tell her that you read it?”
“No, why would I do that?”
“My point exactly. What if you get her the perfect gift, and it makes her fall in love with you. You could never tell her the truth. Your entire relationship will have been built on a lie.”
Stiles raised his eyebrow. “You've been watching Hallmark Channel. Haven't you?”
Scott sighed. “It's just been really boring and I miss Kira.” He took a deep breath. “Lydia's Christmas party is tomorrow. And then she's leaving the next day for that ski trip with her dad. If you don't give it back to her by tomorrow, you'll be alone with it for two weeks, and I don't even know if I could survive that temptation.”
“You're right. You're right! She's going to have it back before her trip,” Stiles finally resolved.
When Stiles got to Lydia's house, he kept the notebook in his jacket's inside pocket. He'd wrapped it and decided he was just going to leave it anonymously... in her room or on her table or something. That way he didn't have to explain himself, and he could make her think that it could have been anyone that found it.
He ran into a few kids from school as he filtered his way through the crowd in search for the banshee. Finally, he found her in the kitchen restocking the chips. Her back was to him and the music had been cranked up kind of loud, so he leaned next to her ear.
“Hey.”
She jumped and let out a shriek as she spun around. “Oh my God! You scared me!”
“Sorry.” He chuckled. “Need some help?”
“Uh well if you want to, you can grab that bowl over there and follow me into the living room.”
“I can do that.” He told her before doing what she'd asked.
They each placed their respective bowls down on the coffee table. When Lydia stood upright again, she turned back to Stiles and gave him a hug.
“I'm glad you could make it.”
“Of course, I wouldn't miss it. You always throw the best parties.” When she pulled away from him, he looked at her face and he was suddenly hit with an overwhelming need to be honest about everything. “Hey, can we talk?”
“Uh...yeah.”
He grabbed her wrist and led her over to the side where it was a bit more private, then reached into his jacket and pulled out the gift-wrapped notebook.
“You got me a present?” She asked.
“Just...open it.”
As she began to unwrap it, he smiled to himself. Proud, that he hadn't given into the temptation.
When she finally got the paper off, she froze for a moment, then turned the notebook over in her hands and opened it (to make sure the writing was still there?). He expected her to be happy that it had been returned, but instead, when she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears...and they didn't look like happy tears. Without saying anything she turned away and bolted up the stairs.
Stiles stood in confusion for a moment before running after her.
“Lydia?” Her door was cracked and he knocked a couple of times before stepping inside. She sat on the foot of her bed, sobbing, the notebook next to her. He closed the door gently behind him, then turned back to Lydia. “Hey, are you okay?”
She looked up at him, anger and hurt evident in her eyes. “What was your favorite part, huh?” She sniffled and sobbed.
“What?" he blinked. "I-”
“Let's see.” She said and stood, taking the notebook in her hand and opening it to read aloud. “'Sometimes I feel like everyone thinks I'm crazy and that I'm on the verge of losing it completely.'” She flipped through the pages again, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
“Ly-”
“Or maybe it was this, 'Allison talked to me tonight about boyfriends. I couldn't relate. No one has ever made me feel the way she described.'” More pages turned.
“I di-”
“Oh, here we go 'I kissed Stiles today. I told him it was so he would hold his breath, but the truth is that I had no idea what to do. I just didn't want him to hurt anymore.'” She angrily flipped through more pages. “'I finally know what Allison was talking about, but it's too late because Stiles has a girlfriend.' Oh, no I know, “Stiles and I nearly died today. The moment Brunski made a move toward him all I could think was No! Not Stiles. Take me instead. I don't know what I would do without him.'” She looked up at him momentarily. “Was that it? Oh, wait, maybe it was this, 'Stiles saved me. And now I know for sure that I'm completely in love with him.'" She slammed book shut and chucked it at his chest. He only stood there, letting it bounce off. "You know, I should have known. You've been acting so strange the past few days, whispering in my ear then asking if we could talk...smiling so smugly when you handed it over...I should have fucking known. So, what was it, huh? What was your favorite part?” The sobbing, sniffles, and tears never stopped. If anything they got more intense with the reading of each passage.
Stiles was dumbfounded. (And his chest really hurt. It would probably bruise- his skin was very delicate.) He didn't know what to say. Lydia was in love with him? Lydia Martin? The girl he'd had a crush on since the third grade? And she'd liked him for how long? Wait...she thought that he wanted to talk because he read the journal! She thought he was being weird because he knew.
“I...” He finally was able to get his voice to work. “I never read it.”
Lydia froze. She stared blankly, a hundred different emotions flashed behind her eyes. She sniffled before replying, “I'm sorry what did you just say?”
He shook his head. “I never read the journal. I-” He blinked and tried to recount the events that led them to where they were now. “I found it under my bed I..I thought it was your notes so I opened it. I read one line about you feeling crazy and closed it. When I got to school I was going to give it back to you, but for some reason when you asked me about it, I lied to you and said I hadn't seen it." He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "I've been acting weird because for some reason I couldn't bring myself to give it back. I was going to leave it here without telling you I brought it, because I didn't want you to know I'd been sitting on it for three days. But I realized I couldn't lie to you anymore...that's why I wanted to talk...to tell you that I was sorry I didn't give it back sooner.”
“Oh.” Was her reply. “So...you didn't read it?”
Stiles shook his head. “No.”
“So, me reading it to you...that was the first time you heard it?”
Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah...”
“Okay...” She collapsed back onto the foot of her bed.
“You mind if I join you?” He asked. His legs were beginning to feel unsteady, and his brain was still trying to process all of the information Lydia had just unloaded onto him.
“Go ahead.”
Stiles walked over and sat down next to her. He wrung his hands in front of himself and looked everywhere but at her. Lydia mirrored his movements for a moment before turning toward him slightly.
"I'm sorry I threw it at you." She said quickly, then turned away again, afraid to look at him for too long.
"It's fine," he replied, still looking away.
She nodded, and looked up at her ceiling. "Does it hurt?"
"Like a bitch."
"Sorry." She bit her lip and shook her head. "I know I said that already, but I am sorry."
Stiles nodded and silence settled between the two of them again.
After several minutes, he finally turned to her. “Hey, Lydia.”
She turned her head to face him. “Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
And that was it.
There was no epic kiss or a mutual understanding that they were now in a relationship (that didn't come until later). No, for now they were still just friends who loved each other, except now it wasn't a secret.
But a few months later when Stiles knew he was going to be taken by the Ghost Riders, he told Lydia to remember he loved her; and she thought back to this moment, at a Christmas party, sitting on the edge of her bed, where he told her for the first time. Then when she'd seen him again and told him that she'd never said it back, he said she didn't have to; because he remembered this moment, and he already knew.
And then there was an epic kiss.