Chapter Text
Lydia had always heard things she shouldn't have. She had a habit on picking up on all the things no one else wanted her to know. She heard all the reasons her Dad left. Every single one of them on the day he left. She heard each thing that Jackson, her boyfriend, never said. She knew he was gay. She always had. But it was so much easier to let him figure that out on his own through secret hookups that aren't so secret than to actually have to do something about it. Doing something about probably meant she'd lose her lunch spot.
But it still surprised her when she first heard the whispers of Stiles.
She'd liked him since the third grade.
She'd practically been in love since the day he stumbled into that elementary school classroom, perfectly uncoordinated, and perfectly underappreciated. Well, unappreciated to everyone but her.
The whispers started around lunchtime on the first day of the school year.
He's back, She would hear in the halls. Her heart would float a little in the air just at the thought of seeing those soft brown eyes again. And it would fall back into her chest the second she heard the following words in the hall after school- "There's a girl with him."
"Huh?" Lydia looked up at her boyfriend.
Jackson slammed his locker shut. "Yeah. Two of them. Stiles and whatever chick he's living with since his parents died."
Lydia narrowed her eyes. It would show her cards a little too well, but she couldn't stop herself from saying- "You could be a little kinder considering your own parentless situation."
Jackson scowled. He always scowled. "Whatever. I have practice."
He stalked off to class. Frustration was emanating solely from his walk. Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She needed her sight for seeing better things than Jackson's annoyance right now. Like... there.
A face she hadn't seen before (rare for a girl as well known as Lydia in Beacon Hills). But this face was new. Dark, dark brown curls. Dark eyes too, Lydia noted. A modern-day Snow White. The new girl was pretty. Lydia reapplied a bit of her mascara. Friend-making on the first day of junior year required a little extra war paint.
Despite the crowded hall, Lydia could hear every click of her own heels on the linoleum tiles. She leaned against the lockers next to the new girl.
"Good first day?" She asked.
The girl jumped with surprise. Lydia smiled. She may hear everything, but others had a habit of not hearing her.
"Yeah," A strand of dark hair became tucked behind the new girl's ear.
"I'm Lydia," She introduced herself.
"Allison," The dark-haired girl smiled back at her.
Lydia knew the answer, but she asked Allison anyway, "You're new, right?"
Allison nodded. "Me and my brother. Well- I guess Stiles isn't exactly new, but he's not exactly old either-" She cut herself off. "I'm rambling, sorry."
Lydia tried not to sound too eager to keep Allison talking. "Don't. I love rambling. Why'd you guys move back?"
Allison's shoulders set- like she'd been prepared to answer this question. "My dad wanted to reconnect Stiles with his roots."
Lydia hoped the girl didn't mean the roots of the tree by his parents' graves. That would be an utterly terrible reason to move.
The pair of girls chatted for a few minutes longer before Lydia asked, "Do you want to come watch Lacrosse tryouts with me today? I promised my boyfriend that I'd be there to support him, and it'd be so nice to have a friend."
Allison grinned. "That sounds great. I have to wait for Stiles too. I didn't realize how big a thing lacrosse was in this town."
And everything fell into place for Lydia when she and Allison walked onto the field. Whereas Lydia was so used to sitting up here alone, sketching out new forms of math in her books or doing homework, being in the stands with Allison made all the cold metal benches feel a lot warmer than usual. And when Allison pointed out her brother- the man the boy from Lydia's childhood had grown into- she found it a little harder to breathe than normal. She never felt this way about Jackson.
But she always had about Stiles.
Even when they were in fourth grade and his hair was buzzed down short and he had been so clumsy and awkward in his rainboots at recess. Even when they were in fifth grade when she listened to him go on for hours about the Star Wars series and how he wanted to drive the same blue jeep as his dad when he was older. Even in sixth grade, when his parents had passed in that fatal accident and he looked at her with such a face that it made her cry just at his pain.
Even now standing in the bleachers.
Allison had pointed him out originally. It was hard to tell with all the matching helmets and jerseys. But once Lydia's eyes found Stiles on the field, they stayed glued on tight.
The first difference that Lydia noticed from her childhood was that he had grown much taller. They had been almost the same height back in sixth grade. Even from the bleachers, Lydia could tell that he had maybe half a foot on her. Maybe more when she wasn't in her heels.
The second difference she noted when he took his helmet off for a water break. His hair. It wasn't the same old buzz he had sported way back when. It had grown out a bit, and the errant strand drifted from his forehead in a way that made butterflies nest in her stomach.
And then after practice, when he jogged over to give Allison a sweaty hug, she noticed the final difference.
There was a spark long faded from his eyes. He was smiling, but it just wasn't the same.
Because Lydia was getting the distinct feeling that something had long died within him.