it’s really important to me that scott knows how lydia feels about stiles
he hears the flutter of her heartbeat every time stiles is near her, pounding in a rhythm so fast that if he looked away, he would have never believe it was lydia martin’s heart. he sees the tenseness her body, a simple click in her body that has her standing rigid and tall, all sharp around the edges with her hands clenched tightly, when she sees stiles slipping a hand into someone’s that’s not hers.
he expects to smell jealousy, resentment, but the only thing that wafts through the air is regret. he knows it too well, and it eats away at him as he watches lydia crumble under it. the worst was when stiles and lydia were alone, how she would regress out of the razor tipped, steel plated lydia that doesn’t let anyone come near, and the smell of metal would finally fade from the air when stiles makes lydia laugh. for a moment, lydia forgets.
she forgets what isn’t hers and the words she could never say, and lets her heart get kneaded into dough, pumping out cadences that sound all too familiar to scott because if he remembers really hard, he knows he’s heard allison’s heart beat the exact same way.
he never says anything, just pulls her into a deep hug once in a while, tapping out the rhythm he’s heard too often as he holds her in her arms. she’d pull away smiling and ask, “what was that for?”
and every time he’d answer, “just so you know everything’s going to be fine” glancing down to where lydia’s hands are gripped tightly into fists.
she looks sadly at him, “scott mccall, ever the optimist,”
but even though scott’s never been all that much of a realist, he knows there’s no such thing as fate.
(but there’s also no such thing as werewolves)