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“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice wafted through the air, towards the sky. They were lying together on the grass in his backyard, staring at the sky together. They couldn’t have been there for more than an hour.
“Yeah, Lyds?” He didn’t need to look at her to know that her eyebrows were furrowed and that the hand that wasn’t holding his was playing with the necklace that she had on.
“What do you think would have happened if you were bitten by Peter in the woods instead of Scott?”
Stiles thought for a moment, staring out at the stars above him. He could vaguely make out the big dipper from this angle. It seemed to be upside down. “I don’t think I’d have survived it, to be honest.” Especially back then, he wanted to add.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Yes, you would have.” She snapped. “But seriously, what do you think would have happened?”
His eyebrows furrowed for a moment and he breathed in the cool November air. “I would have grown a six-pack overnight?” He heard her laugh. “I probably would have gotten significantly better at lacrosse and made co-captain with Jackson.” It was his turn to laugh. “I probably would have gotten super annoyed at him and lost all control and maimed him a bit.”
“He would have deserved it.” She pointed out. “He was kind of a jerk sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay, maybe a lot.” A smile pulled up at the corners of her mouth. “But then I would have made out with you in Coach’s office instead of Scott.”
“Probably. But seriously, could you imagine me getting all hairy and growing fangs?” He heard her bark out a laugh, condensation from her breath coming out in a quick huff. “And imagine having Derek as my werewolf guide? He’d kill me in a week.”
Lydia imagined Derek brooding around Stiles for a moment, but the image was just too absurd for her to handle. “Oh sour wolf...” She sighed.
A comfortable silence fell between them as they gazed on the light of the stars in the clear night sky. He often thought of himself as being a sort of a star. Not for being special, or bright, but as the dead light travelling aimlessly in space until it could be absorbed by something else. He’d been travelling aimlessly until Scott had found him when they were kids. All that he was was a reflection of his best friend.
On some days he wished that he had accepted the offer of the bite from Peter. He would have liked to be able to help Scott in his fights and maybe he wouldn’t have been possessed by the Nogitsune. He would have been able to save his dad from the Darach and take on the twins when they had actually been a threat.
She let go of his hand and turned around, laying on her stomach and looking at him. His eyes were deep in concentration. Behind his eyes were a million scenarios, playing themselves out in his mind. “What are you thinking?” Lydia’s voice broke through the fog of possibilities running through his brain.
“Nothing.” He told her. “Just about what would have happen if I was a werewolf.”
She gave him an expectant look. “And...?”
Stiles let out a sigh. “Maybe, if I’d been turned into a wolf, then the Nogitsune would have never possessed me.”
Lydia’s smile dropped and her eyes clouded over. “But you didn’t.”
He felt a lump form in his throat. Stiles had never told anyone about the choice that Peter had given him four years ago. He had never liked to dwell on what could have been, but he often found himself questioning his past choices. “Peter gave me a choice, you know.”
Her eyes found his again. They had the familiar look of concern in them. “He did?”
“I said no.” He told her. “I wanted to say yes, but I said no instead.”
“Why?”
“Part of me was afraid of the possible death side of it.” He told her. “And another part of me didn’t want it to happen then.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted the bite for all of the wrong reasons.” Stiles admitted. “I wanted to be popular and good at everything, and you... But I never wanted to help people like Scott did. I wasn’t pure of heart like that.”
“That’s not true.” She told him, running her hand through his hair. He had been saying that he needed a haircut for two weeks now, but she liked it longer. Much more than the buzzcut he had sported for years. “You would have done a lot of good as a werewolf.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and turned to lie back down on her back. The grass weaved through her hair and tickled the back of her neck. She felt Stiles’ fingers lace through her own. He ran his thumb up and down the side of her hand. If she paid attention, she could see the condensation of their steady breaths floating faintly through the air.
“No.” She said suddenly, and Stiles turned his head to look at her. Her red lips were pursed in defiance.
“No?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Lydia looked back to him, their eyes met. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
He smiled, his dimples dancing on his cheeks. “Neither would I.”