2018.

Jamie Matthieu is a leggy, geeky goddess with glasses that have just the right amount of quirk to be adorable. She has been the highlight of the evening, impressing everyone with her dynamite wit.

Lydia hates her.

Absolutely, irrationally despises every cute little bone in her body, and the worst part is that Lydia has no idea why. Stiles is clearly smitten with the girl, and, as one of his dearest friends, Lydia wants to be happy for him. Instead, she just cringes every tie Jamie opens her mouth.

Of course, it could be due to the fact that Stiles has largely ignored her since he arrived with Jamie on his arm. Before this girl appeared in his life, Lydia had been Stiles' girl, the one he dropped everything for on a moment's notice. Not in a boyfriend kind of way; in a - best friend kind of way.

Well, apparently her BFF has other priorities tonight.

Kissing him is never her intention, but when he walks - very much alone - into the kitchen where she's getting more ice, it's suddenly all she can do to throw herself at him very furiously and practically devour his face. She notes fleetingly how he does not instantly push her away the way he probably should, how he reciprocates for about fifteen seconds before he gets his wits about him and breaks away, taken aback.

"Lydia! - what are you doing?" he sputters.

She pulls him close by the lapels of his jacket. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

She gets another five seconds of lip action before Stiles pushes her firmly but gently away.

"Lydia!" he snaps. "Stop it!"

She frowns. "Why? What's wrong?"

Stiles looks at her like she's grown an extra head. "I - you - I have a girlfriend! You know, tall, glasses, way too hot to be dating me, currently sitting in the next room?"

Lydia blinks once. "So?"

"So?" Stiles demands, incredulous. He runs a hand through his hair. "God, what the fuck is your problem?"

Lydia scoffs. "My problem? I am just trying to make out. You seem to be the one having some sort of moral dilemma."

Stiles shakes his head. "Lydia, look. You have to stop this, okay? I am in a relationship with Jame. If that upsets you, well, I don't know what to tell you because that's just how it is."

She rolls her eyes. "Jeez! Fine. I wasn't trying to steal you away from her or anything! I just..."

"Just...?"

"I just - I don't know. I missed you, I guess."

Stiles lets out a pained breath. "Jesus, Lydia."

"What? What is so wrong with that?"

"Don't you get it, Lyds? You are using me. You've been using me since we were eighteen! And I'm done. I can't do it anymore. You know, I can't just be the guy you use to cheat on your boyfriend with - "

"Chris and I broke up!"

"Not now. In December. I told you what I wanted then, Lydia, and you told me that you couldn't do that, remember? And if that's really true, then you've gotta let me go. You've gotta stop this."

She does remember. She remembers Stiles' eyes, red-rimmed from a barrage of tears. She remembers the way his hands slipped from hers as he turned on his heel and made his escape. More than anything, she remembers how empty her room felt when he'd gone, how dark the corners looked.

Biting her lip, Lydia comes to a decision. "What if it wasn't true?" she asks quietly, and she thinks the state of the world hangs in the balance, entirely dependent upon the next words out of Stiles' mouth.

There is a tense moment where they stare at each other, daring the other to take that leap of faith they so desperately need, but in the end, Stiles just glares at her, sighing in a way Lydia can only define as 'disappointed.'

"Don't do that," he snaps. "We both know that's not true."

Lydia doesn't correct him; hell, she doesn't even know if he's wrong. She doesn't know much, apparently, when it comes to Stiles.

Looking up at the ceiling, he continues, "Look, Lydia, I love you. You know that. God, I've been in love with you since - I don't know, third grade. I'll - I'll probably always be in love with you. But if you're really never gonna feel the same, then you've gotta let me go." Only after he's spoken his peace does he dare to look at her again, and Lydia wishes she knew whether she was dreaming up the hope in his eyes.

Would it matter, either way? She's always been a coward. Isn't that what all the make up and perfected, pretty-girl facade has been about?

Her breath is shaky when she answers. "Yeah," she says, but it doesn't feel like the truth, not quite. "Yeah." After a pause, she adds, "She must be something special."

The look in Stiles' eyes is more resigned than bitter, like he's always known this is a losing battle. "She is," he assures her without elaboration. Taking a step toward her he says, carefully, "You know I'll always be there, whenever you need - anything. But you - you're never gonna want me the way I want you. You have to let me at least try to be happy."

He's right, of course, the way he usually is. He's right about everything: about how she used him for sex, to feel better about herself, as an excuse to break up with her boyfriend. Of course, Chris had seen it coming; he'd seen the cheating not as an excuse but as a symptom of a larger problem in which it was the only way for her to act out her love for Stiles with the danger of a truly fulfilling relationship.

"Just don't let it go too long, okay, Lydia?" he'd said just before they parted. "I know it's - terrifying - offering yourself up like that to the one person you need most to accept you, but I promise you - it will be so worth it, in the end."

Lawyers. They really could talk themselves in circles.

So Stiles is right on this point. But Lydia has never been one to admit defeat, so she says nothing, just marches out of the room, furiously, wiping away tears she hadn't realized she was crying.

(Wasn't it Stiles who once said she was beautiful when she cried?)

...

His stomach is churning dangerously when he slides into the car; it feels like he's just lost Lydia forever, which, while perhaps better for his mental health, is certainly no good for his heart.

Jamie notices right away, just like he hoped she wouldn't.

"You okay, hun? You look a little pale," she says.

"Fine! Yeah, I'm fine, just - tired," he says lamely.

She smiles. "Well, it was worth it. It was so fun meeting your friends. They're all awesome." She frowns. "I do wish I had gotten to talk to Lydia more though."

Stiles glances over at Jamie, curious. "Lydia? Uh - why her?"

Jamie shrugs. "Oh, I don't know. You just - I don't know. You just talk about her so much. She's important to you; she should be important to me."

For maybe the hundredth time, Stiles thanks the universe that he accidentally picked up Jamie Matthieu's copy of Blade Runner instead of his own. He's thankful beyond words that somehow this gorgeous, smart neuroscience major has any interest in his at all. So he leans over and kisses her, with all that gratefulness.

"I love you," he says as he pulls away.

It's not the first time he's said it to her, but he thinks it may be the first time he's meant it.