Before this begins, let me just note that this is probably the worst thing I've ever written in my entire life, and I'm a painfully mediocre writer. In fact, I'm probably way below mediocre, but self-esteem is a trait that I value. Anyway, this is a one-shot and just bear with me because I'm only like thirteen years old and I still have ages to improve. I don't think anyone's going to read this, but if you are, please attempt to enjoy.

Alone.

Alone, the perfect, most accurate word to describe a certain banshee girl's current demeanor and mood.

Yes, Lydia Martin was alone.

All alone, all by herself.

Isolated, from a lot of things. From the world. From her classmates. From her friends.

Lydia sat on her bed in the only occupied room in her otherwise-empty house, tapping away on the laptop seated comfortably over her lavender bedding. She was just three-sentences-and-half away from completing an English essay that would not be due until the next month.

Typical Lydia Martin, finishing her homework assignments well-before their actual due dates as a clever way to clear her schedule, keeping herself fully-available for the daily supernatural near-death experiences that she had to deal with during almost every second of her existence with her friends.

Not that she had many friends to spend normal, quality-time with anymore.

Her best friend was dead.

Between discovering new depths relating to her newfound Kitsune abilities and unintentionally winning over Scott's heart, Kira was too busy to deal with Lydia, whom she didn't even know very well in the first place. It seemed that Kira was even closer to Malia than she was to Lydia.

Malia didn't seem to be very fond of her. Especially after Lydia had found out that Malia had been all up for abandoning her with that crazy Mexican lady, Lydia wasn't very fond of Malia either. Besides, Malia was always busy with Stiles.

Stiles was always busy with Malia.

(As the previous thought came across her mind for what was probably the millionth time, Lydia's long, painted fingernails may or may not have nearly punctured a hole into the spacebar of her keyboard.)

And last, but not least, Scott seemed to attract danger every where he went. He was always dealing with some sort of villainous creature that Lydia would've preferred to not encounter at all costs.

Lydia leaned back her pillow, a look of consideration replacing her stressed expression.

In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if Scott was somewhere in a dark alley, probably with Kira, kicking the evil-ass of Count Dracula or something.

The amusing picture of Scott and Kira (those two totally liked each other, by the way) punching a pasty vampire wearing a cheesy cape running through Lydia's mind was ended by the loud ding of the doorbell that echoed through the house like a gong.

Lydia shut her laptop closed and quickly made her way out of the hall way, nearly tripping over five steps on the staircase in an attempt to get to the front door.

She hastily ripped open the door to reveal Scott.

Lydia's eyes widened in surprise, "You're not fighting a vampire?" she whispered under her breath.

"What?"

"What?" She shook her head and snapped out of her exhausted daze, "Oh. Sorry. What do you need, Scott? Friendly support? Kind words of encouragement?"

"That all sounds really nice, but I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight, maybe go see a movie or something."

"Where's Kira?"

"She's out of town with her mom."

"Ohhhh," her pink lips form a smirk, "so you came here, to me, as a second resort?"

"Yep."

Lydia rolled her eyes, before settling for Genuinely-Serious Face #47, "I'm kind of tired and I was doing homework, so I don't-"

"Stiles will probably be there."

Her heart jolts at his sudden mention of his best friend. She curses herself, already knowing that Scott could probably hear her heartbeat quicken at the sound of Stiles' name.

She crossed her arms, "What does that have to do with anything?"

If Scott had not been a werewolf, as opposed to a perfectly normal teenage human being without superhearing and a fur coat, the confused, unknowing expression plastered onto her face would have gotten past him, quick and easy. Unfortunately for Lydia's current situation, Scott was a werewolf with superhearing, fur-coat and all, and could easily tell that she was lying. She prayed to every god in every religion that he would just let her go.

Thankfully, he remained silent. But he proceeded to give her that annoying you-can't-fool-me-I'm-the-goddamn-Alpha look that she hated.

Lydia leaned her side against the doorframe before continuing, "Besides, he'll be with Malia," she added bitterly, "he won't want to talk to us. His mouth will be too busy devouring her little coyote lips." She bowed her head down, staring at the pink bunnies at the top of her slippers, "Sorry, that was sort of mean."

He shook his head, "It's fine, you're probably right anyway," he gave her another one of his knowing looks, "but that shouldn't stop you from going outside to hang out with your friend in a crowded movie-theater that smells like artificially butter-flavored popcorn!" He smiled enthusiastically.

She rolled her eyes again, "Fine. But you better be paying for that extra-large bucket of 'artifically butter-flavored popcorn'."

"Yes ma'am. I'll be waiting in the car."

Lydia made her way back into the house to find her purse.

Watching a movie with Scott would not be bad at all. Without Stiles, he was probably the one she was closest to. Scott was also the only other person she knew, besides Allison's father, whose pain resulting from Allison's death was equal to hers. Allison was Scott's first love. Allison was Lydia's best friend. Though it was a terrible thing to have to bond over, it was probably best for Lydia and Scott to stick together, to have each other to understand.

Lydia wondered how Stiles was doing. All that she had gathered was that he felt extremely, incredibly guilty, having been able to convince hisself that Allison's death was his fault. Lydia worried about him.

She wouldn't need to comfort him. Stiles had Malia for that. He probably preferred her over him anyway. Lydia couldn't blame him - she had been the one to dumbly ignore his crush on her for such a long time, even after kissing him out of his panic attack and realizing that maybe there was something between them.

She sighed and ran a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair before walking out into the crisp night air, carefully locking the front door behind her. She stepped into Scott's car.

"Your queen has arrived."

"Yay. Let's go." He began their way to the movie theater.

It was silent for a moment, the only sound audible being some sort of stupid, empty-lyric pop song about being in love buzzing from the radio.

Scott broke the tense silence, "Lydia, I'm worried about you."

"Scott, I'm totally okay."

"No, you're not," he protested gently, "I know, despite the fact that there are like five or six of us, that you're sort of feeling like a third wheel."

"Yes, go ahead and rub it in," she said jokingly, feebly attempting to keep the atmosphere light.

"It's not fair to you."

"It's no big deal, I'm just not as close to Malia or Kira as you guys are," she answered quietly, "I just - I miss Allison."

"Yeah," he said solemnly, "me too."

"A-and, I'm still trying to figure out my whole banshee situation. I just need to focus on that. That's why I'm stepping away from relationships, both platonic and romantic."

"I never said anything about romantic relationships."

Before she could interrupt, he announced, "We're here."

After buying their tickets, Lydia and Scott proceeded to stand in the long line to buy popcorn.

"Good thing we came early," Scott commented casually.

"Yup. However, I don't understand why so many people would stand in a line long enough to cover the length of the Great Wall of China just for a ten-dollar bucket of artificially butter-flavored popcorn. This makes no sense."

"The butter isn't even real. It's like a chemical mixture of cheap salt and hairspray mixed with yellow paint or something."

"Ugh, God," she sighed, pretending to be exasperated.

They both laughed. But not as hard as they would've laughed if Stiles had been hanging out with them. Or Allison.

Especially Allison.

But they continued to laugh, only because it slightly numbed the pain.

Suddenly, their giggle-fest was interrupted by a familar voice, "Scott? Lydia?"

The werewolf and the banshee spun around to come face-to-face with none other than Beacon Hills' freshest new couple, Stiles Stilinski and Malia Tate.

Scott waved, "Oh, hey man."

"What are you guys doing here?" Malia asked, her voice sounding both curious and uninterested at the same time. Lydia wondered how that could be.

"Scott and I were just going to buy our ten-dollar extra-large bucket of artifically butter-flavored popcorn before seeing the movie."

Lydia noticed the strange, unrecognizable look that Stiles was giving her and Scott. Something between hurt and...anger? She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I was just telling Lydia about how the fake butter is made out of hairspray and paint."

They snickered at their inside joke. Stiles watched them laugh, his face forming into another foreign expression.

"Um, yeah, okay," Malia said, staring at them oddly, "Stiles and I are just gonna go to our movie. See you later, or something."

Lydia found it strange how in the time-span of two-months, Malia was able to learn how to dance at night clubs and parties (it took Kira a much longer time), but she wasn't able to learn her proper manners. Would it really kill her to be kind sometimes? And the way how Stiles would constantly defend her was starting to irritate Lydia. Ever since Stiles and Malia started dating, Stiles would snap at Lydia more often, and to put it simply, it made her feel sad.

Jealousy is an evil thing.

However, it wasn't just jealousy. Lydia waa just angry with Stiles' behavior. Just because he had a girlfriend now didn't mean he had to suddenly act like he didn't like her, as a friend, anymore.

Whatever, it wasn't her problem. She did tell Scott she was going to back out of romance now, after all. Stiles could do whatever the hell he wanted. She didn't care.

They bought their popcorn and made their way to the movie, only to end up sitting several seats away from Stiles and Malia.

"Ugh, great," Lydia muttered under her breath.

She hadn't meant for Scott to hear it, but he did.

"Yeah, I know right," he said, "now we get to see them makeout during our movie. They suck. I'm going to puke. We might as well just dump our popcorn over their heads."

She laughed, "That would be way more entertaining than the Stiles and Malia Kisscam Show. Definitely worth our ten bucks."

He laughed, and at the corner of her eye, Lydia could spot Stiles watching them intently again.

"Oh my God," Scott said, amused, "he is so jealous."

She shifted her attention back to the Alpha, "Hm?"

"Stiles. He's glaring at me. Like really glaring at me. I think he's ready to kill me," he leaned in to whisper to her, "I can see it in his eyes."

"He knows perfectly well that you have a thing for Kira, he doesn't need to be jealous."

She almost smirks when he blushes a bit at the mention of her, but he just says, "And yet, he is."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Lean back and bask in the pleasurable feeling of being wanted?"

"OhmyGodwhatthehelliswrongwithyou," she sighed out in a single breath, covering her face with her hands, "now I just feel bad."

"For what? For making him jealous? That's his fault."

"Maybe, but the feeling of jealousy sucks. I'm giving Stiles a sucky feeling and therefore, it gives me a sucky feeling."

"Ah, so this is the unspoken connection he used to ramble on and on and on about."

She glares at him.

"May I ask why you're being so incredibly inconsiderate towards your best friend?"

"Because," he begins, suddenly turning serious, "he's spent over half of his life chasing after you. And then suddenly, after fooling himself into thinking he's in love with some other girl, who's rude as hell by the way, he throws all of it away and just leaves you. He leaves you with Araya back in Mexico. He leaves you with his beloved Jeep in the middle of nowhere to go after his crazy coyote girlfriend. He leaves you, for Malia. He leaves you, a girl who he's had a massive crush on since the third-freaking-grade, for a girl he's only had slight feelings for for two months. It's ridiculous and it's unfair because as his best friend, I know that he's still in love with you. It's unfair to Malia, it's unfair to you, and it's unfair to him. And I'm also worried about him. I know he feels like shit about Allison and Malia's not going to help him that. She won't be able to comfort him because her instincts are still, apparently, too animalistic. He needs an anchor, someone to be there for him, not someone who he has to spend time training like a dog. You need someone too. And since he won't be there for you, I will, as third best. Allison is first. Stiles is second. So that's why I wanted to hang out. Because I'm an Alpha, and I know when my friend is feeling incredibly lonely. And no one, especially you, deserves to be alone."

Lydia gives him a thankful smile. I real one. A smile filled with genuine happiness and sisterly love, "Thanks, Scott. For the unnecessarily long, yet heartwarming speech. And the popcorn."

After the movie, Lydia and Scott walked outside into the starry night, thankful that the Stiles and Malia Kisscam Show had been cancelled for the night, and surprised that they had finished all of their popcorn.

They were going to cross the street to the parking lot when Scott reached a hand out to stop her. She glanced up to him, confused.

"Wait here," he said, "I parked far away. I'll pick you up here," he glanced behind her, before smirking, "plus, I think someone wants to talk to you."

Lydia turned slowly to see Stiles making his way over to her, Malia nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Lydia." He spoke quietly, almost as if he was shy to speak to her. Even though they had spoken to each other just yesterday, this was different. His voice was calmer, more sincere. Probably because they weren't on the verge of running into harmful demonic activity. Or maybe it was because Malia wasn't there, and he didn't have to try to impress her with a badass attitude. Stiles could just be Stiles with Lydia. It had always been like that.

"Hi," she greeted, almost breathless.

"I-I just wanted to say that you look really, um...," he looked up, locking gazes with her, his stare timid, and it was almost like they were back at the beginning, when he had shorter hair and she wore that stupid Bluetooth on her ear, back when things were easier, without the supernatural stuff mucking things up, "I think you look beautiful today. Not that you don't usually look beautiful, I just wanted to-"

She steps closer to him, and stands on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Her lips linger for a moment, before she pulls away and wipes the lipstick stain on his face away with her thumb, getting rid of any type of evidence that would raise suspicion from Malia.

He stares back at her with that same look in his eyes, the same look he had after that time she brought him out of his panic attack with a kiss.

She gives him a sweet smile, and he grins back happily.

And with that, she leaves and opens the door to Scott's car before stepping in. She shuts the door closed and buckles in her seat belt. As they drove away, Lydia could spot Stiles staring after them through the rearview mirror.

Scott smiles all-knowingly to her and she rolls her eyes. As she stares out the window, she thinks.

Stiles was still with Malia. Allison and Aiden were still dead. Her banshee powers still confused her. A lot of things were still the same. But Lydia learned one new thing.

She was wrong.

She was never alone.