Scott and Lydia, Friday night
Mar. 22nd, 2013 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainThe night before Lydia's birthday, she and Scott manage to put away the snark for long enough to get a real look at each other.
The little patio out back was nearish the indoor pool, so it always smelled like chlorine. Stupid, maybe, but Lydia found the smell comforting just then. It was too cold to swim outdoors even in later March, here in Westchester County, New York... but back home, it would've been barely doable. And people probably would've been, tomorrow night, at her party. The biggest party of the year, during which Lydia would've changed outfits at least three times and served the most amazing punch imaginable. When all the little high-schoolers of Beacon Hills would've turned up, invited or not, and she would've had the empty pleasure of giving dirty looks to the ones who hadn't been and being worshipped by the ones who had.
Even if hardly any of them actually liked her. That wasn't the point. Very few people in her life would ever like Lydia, and she had even less fucks to give. And yet.
It was always a good party.
She tucked her tight-clad legs up beneath her, settling on a metal lounger sans cushion, just in case one last frost decided to snap up on them. Out like a lamb, so they said, but this March was all lion so far. She leaned back on both hands, cushioned slightly with the light, white-knit sweater over her uncharacteristically casual peasant blouse. The weight of the key was heavy between her breasts; she didn't even know why she'd put the necklace on tonight, anyhow. She hadn't since she'd arrived. Not even on Valentine's Day.
Shit. Maybe she should just find Damon tomorrow and see if he was down for another hate fuck.
Scott hadn't noticed her until he'd left the locker room. Which was good, because it was way too cold to have gone out before he had changed back into street clothes.
He stepped outside after a moment of thought. She looked...uncharacteristically soft; maybe she didn't want company. Or maybe she needed it. So he sat down, silently in the lounger next to her.
When she first looked up, Lydia's gaze was sharp, at odds with the slump of her shoulders and generally relaxed posture. But when she saw it was Scott, she let it drop off. One corner of her mouth even tugged upwards in something of a lackluster yet genuine expression of 'glad-to-see-you'.
Well, to be fair, more 'not-unhappy-to-see-you'. But for Lydia, there wasn't much difference.
"Mmm, looking for the moon, Summers?" she asked.
Half-a-dozen flippant answers entered his mind, but for once Scott suspected that wasn't what she needed from him. It might not even be what she wanted. So he shrugged. "Something like that. You?"
"I'm not a huge fan of the moon," Lydia admitted, though she looked straight up at it. For some reason it reminded her of coming-to completely naked in the woods--and ending up on a street with half the police in town--and Stiles, of all people--staring at her stupidly while she froze. "But it's nice enough. Just wanted to be outside for a while. For such a huge house, it can get a little tight in there. Even if you love your roommate."
Which she was sure Scott did not, but in her way, Lydia sort of did. Still, she occasionally needed to go outside. By herself. She made herself do it sometimes, just to prove she could. And every time, when she ran into someone there--as she inevitably did--she was secretly grateful.
Weirdest fucking year ever. Seriously.
Scott nodded in understanding. Not that he had real experience with loving one's roommate (even if maybe, just sometimes, he didn't dislike the guy), but the rest of it...yeah, it could be a little much. "You want me to leave?"
She shook her head and shot him something that edged dangerously close to a smile, if a touch on the wry side. "You're all right. When you want to be." Then, she smiled for real and glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. "What are you up to, really?" Obviously nothing important or he wouldn't be plopping down next to her. But he must've been on his way somewhere.
He'd seen a lot of Lydia's expressions, but Scott was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen something so genuine from her. He liked it. Not that he didn't like her no nonsense manipulative streak too, but she was more real this way.
"I was swimming. Saw you as I came out, and came over." He shrugged. "Not really up to anything."
Good answer. She looked back up at the moon and asked, "When's your birthday?"
"January 18th." Scott turned in his seat to see her better; the glasses weren't great for night vision, they didn't have the tech that the visor-thing did, so his visibility wasn't the best. Once adjusted, he looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. Lydia didn't generally do idle questions -- but this was a different Lydia than he was used to.
"Why?" He finally asked. "When's yours?"
She shot him an utterly false dirty look for the just-past birthday--but of course he hadn't told anyone, so there was nothing really dirty in it. Then she said easily, "Tomorrow."
"Happy early birthday, then," Scott offered, shrugging off her feigned anger. "That why you're out here?"
She was already looking back up at the sky, but a tiny smile appeared again. It showed how off her game she was, but she'd only just noticed that he'd turned toward her. "Mmm, I think so. I don't know. Normally I don't think about anything but the party, the day before my birthday. This year, everything is different."
"What was it like before?" Scott knew he was probably walking a dangerous line here - like him, Lydia rarely talked about before - but he so rarely got a chance to see this Lydia that he almost couldn't help it.
But this, at least, was something Lydia didn't mind referencing about her past. "It was... quiet. And small. And it seemed very important, even though I was treating it like training for something that I knew was bigger." She looked over at him again, eyebrows going up and something like her usual smirk appearing--though it was decidedly self-deprecating. "My birthday party was the biggest event of the year in Beacon Hills."
He smiled slightly. "I'm not remotely surprised."
"What about you? What did you do for your birthday this year?"
Scott shrugged. "Nothing. Same as every year."
He hadn't celebrated his birthday since he'd been a kid. Just hadn't seemed worth it, and no one would've cared anyway.
"Kind of looking forward to nothing," Lydia admitted. She frowned a little, though, because also... kind of not.
Kind of disliked that being the town whack-job had meant she hadn't even minded abandoning her hometown. Kind of wished that she'd had more options. Kind of wondered what the fuck she was even doing here, trying to navigate this brave new world where social graces meant so much less than anywhere she'd ever imagined.
Even though if she'd been in possession of all the facts... she would've chosen Xavier's, still. She knew that, now. It didn't make it not sting, though. Right there. In her side. Where the scar was.
"I just wish nothing came with a lot less self-reflection. Does your birthday nothing involve reflection, Scott?"
It would be so easy to deflect, or to lie. And normal he would've. But she had finally succeeded at knocking him off-balance, and the one time she hadn't even been trying to.
Ironic, Scott guessed.
"Yeah. Every year."
"And that would be the bit I'm not looking forward to." She sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. She turned to let her legs hang over the edge facing Scott. "I can't decide if this is the year everything went to shit, or the year everything started to make sense. I think the problem is that both would feel like the former, in the moment, so there's no way to tell. Opinions?"
It was way more honest than anything she'd ever said to him--something she would've said to Jean-Paul. Of course, Scott knew nothing about... well, Jackson. But just in general.
"I'm not sure I actually know you well enough to give you a useful answer," Scott said after a minute of thought. He didn't, really. He knew some things about her, definitely. And he'd combined a lot of those things to make some guesses about things she'd never told him, but he'd wanted to know.
But that wasn't really the same as knowing for sure.
"Then answer for yourself."
He was silent for several long moments. After all, the careful surgical manipulation hadn't been all one-sided here. But finally, he admitted, "My life went to hell a long time ago. This has been a step up, for me."
And now Lydia was the one who was not remotely surprised. It was clear that Scott was fucked up, the only question was how, and she knew better than to pose questions she wouldn't be keen on answering herself to someone as sharp as Scott Summers. Lydia said, "I'm glad." And whether she meant glad that he'd managed a step up or that she was glad he considered this, her new home, too, a step up, he could decide for himself. She wasn't sure, and she assumed that meant both.
"If I were particularly hopeful, optimistic, and possibly vacuous, I'd say I was sure that was a sign for all of us whose lives went to hell--both long ago and recently. But I doubt it."
"I've never put a lot of stock in 'signs.'" He smirked. "I'm sure you're shocked."
"To my core," she agreed with a little snort of a laugh. She glanced at the house, then back to him. "What do you put stock in, these days?"
Scott met her gaze through ruby quartz, though he'd no idea if she knew he was doing so. "I bet you already know that answer."
"I suspect," she said, holding his gaze with her own--or, at least, assuming she was--which was wide and open. Her shoulders stayed rounded, her hands gripped the edge of the lounger firmly, but gently. "But I'm too tired to play tonight. So I asked."
Wow. Okay.
"I put stock in what I can see and anticipate."
"What we can quantify." Lydia sighed, but just a little, and shook her head to throw her hair over her shoulder. Irritating, god, what she wouldn't give for a ponytail, right then. "I'll make my birthday wish for more of that. Then we'll both be happier."
"Maybe." She was almost ethereal like this, vulnerable and only semi-visible in the odd light of the moon. Scott figured he'd blame that for the impulse to ask, "are you unhappy?"
Lydia looked up again, wondering. She tried to think of being happy. Of Jackson's bed, and him handing her the key that now hung heavy and cold beneath her shirt. Of they way Allison, of all her friends, had been the one to treat her no differently--at least, for a while--after the hospital. Of how hard Stiles--god, that idiot, but he really had been sweet--had tried. Of telling Jean-Paul the truth and having him flop into her lap and smile and treat her like she was fucking human after all. That last one opened up the gate of the people here who could make her happy for those brief moments. Toph, Betsy, hell, even Damon had his moments lately.
And Scott. So again, she told him the truth. "I'm too ambitious to be happy. But there are moments. You?"
Her honesty hit him in the gut, and so he answered rather than changing the subject. "I'm not sure I know how to be."
She cocked her head. "But you have moments?" Again, she could've told. But she asked.
Getting his brother back, spending time with Lil, the feeling that first time he'd ridden his bike... "Yeah, I've got moments."
"Yeah." Lydia smiled. It wasn't for every day use, letting him even this close, getting this close to him. For all kinds of reasons that were perfectly quantifiable, though for the moment, she would rather not crunch those particular numbers. But it was, to be honest, good. "You do."
He smiled back, unguarded and genuine, at least for a moment. This was...nice. Serious for a reason he hadn't entirely grasped yet, but whatever her reasons were, this made him feel oddly content in his own skin. He couldn't have possibly explained why.
"You know, I like you like this." He confessed.
"And I was just thinking that I like you like this." The small smile never left, her eyes remained open and honest, but one corner of her lips pulled up a little more. Not that she was one of those girls who cared how a boy liked her. But they were even, anyhow. "And luckily, neither of us needs warned not to get used to it, even."
She didn't want it to stop. She wanted to stay and talk about nothing without having to second guess herself--but more, without having to second guess him. She wanted to close the old doors and throw away the key, so whatever was behind them could wither and finally fucking die. She wanted to stretch out on the lounger and look up at the terrifying moon and ask him to stay a little while and tell her how his life had gone to hell.
But she wasn't ready for him to see her cry. And she probably wasn't ready to see him cry, figuratively speaking, either. So she just smiled and said, "But thanks."
He shrugged. "Nothing to thank me for."
"Yes, there is." She leaned back on her hands again. "Just as a warning, someday I'm going to ask." About everything. Just not tonight.
Scott watched her for a minute. Everything would be a tall order, even with the 'someday' caveat. That should frighten him; normally it would.
He wasn't sure why it didn't.
"Don't ask for more than you can give in return."
"Precisely why I'm not asking tonight." She smiled.
"And what will you tell me tonight, if I ask?" Scott wondered.
"More than usual, less than everything."
He crossed his legs and got comfortable, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he watched her. "You gonna make me ask?"
Still smiling, though one corner pulled up a little farther than the other, Lydia nodded.
"Of course," Scott murmured to himself. He didn't sound put-out, though, just amused. Where to start? That was the real question here. "Is this just about your birthday?"
"It is about everything that made my birthday important," she said, easily enough. "My friends, mainly. And yes. My ex-boyfriend."
"You miss them?"
"I miss what I thought they were." She hadn't considered it in those terms, but it was true. When things unraveled for Lydia, both inside her and around her, they'd shown who they were. And she hadn't known as well as she'd thought. "So no."
And because he knew the rules, she didn't preface her own question: "Do you miss anyone from home?"
"Since we're being honest...which one?"
"The last one, wherever it was."
"Omaha." Did he miss anyone? Like, really, truly miss them? He occasionally missed random things about Omaha, no matter how weird that was, since it was Nebraska. But the people that he'd actually known? "No."
"What did you think they were that you miss?"
"My friends." Lydia shifted her hair again, this time over one shoulder, and started separating it to three long strands of shining, loose curls, then braiding it lazily. Just to get it off her back, finally. This... was nice. It was still a little too formal, a little too tit-for-tat to feel completely real, but again, it was as close as she could feel safe getting, with him. "Which I of course told myself I didn't need, because I will not be one of those girls who desires the love and affection of all when obedience and fear is clearly the more efficacious route. But then again, I'm sixteen. For another night.
"Where are your old friends, Scott, if they're not in Omaha?"
He smiled self-deprecatingly. "I don't have any."
"Didn't," She corrected, still braiding. "But yes, that's just what I mean."
"Touche." His eyes followed her hands as they wove her hair together. However difficult it was to see in the dark for him, his eyes still tracked motion when they could actually make it out. Kinda mesmerizing, really. "Well, it's their loss, anyway. Your friends, or not-friends, I mean."
She tied off the end of the braid with a deft but decidedly temporary knot. She hardly ever pulled her hair back in company, unless it was for the sake of yoga, but she really didn't want to deal, right then. "That's what I tell myself. Sometimes I even believe it. Well. I guess this place is like starting over in all sorts of unexpected ways."
"Unexpected in what ways?"
"It was the end of everything I had planned, coming here. I pretended it wasn't, but it was." She cocked her head thoughtfully, playing with the end of her braid. "I didn't expect it would be the beginning of so many other things."
Things she was fairly certain she'd never get away from, now.
She asked, "What did you think you were getting into? Any of this?"
"I thought I was getting onto a plane," and he'd nearly had a fucking panic attack when he'd done so, "with a couple of creepy old guys who had completely incomprehensible motives."
Scott chuckled, and shook his head a little. "I wasn't wrong. But I guess it doesn't count as a plan. I'm betting you'd planned your whole life out?"
Her expression would tell of her absolute sympathy with his description of the situation, so all she had to say was two words to answer his question: "Fields Medal. Still not improbable. Just... not as quickly.
"What was your plan?"
"It wasn't setting some kind of land-speed record for math awards, that's for sure." Scott said. Not a complete answer, and he knew it, but the idea of being this honest, at least about this...he'd never said this. "My plan was to stay alive. I've got low expectations."
She watched him for a moment, at once sorry and glad that she couldn't see his eyes properly. She could ask... but she wouldn't, because it was more than she was willing to give. "Not low. Smart. I was allowed to take survival for granted for a long time. I won't do it again. It's nice to know I'm in good company, at least."
She was looking at him and Scott glanced away, thankful that she wouldn't be able to tell he'd glanced away in discomfort. Now he just had to hope that the heat he felt creeping up his neck to his ears wouldn't be visible to her either.
"Company, definitely. 'Good' is a matter of opinion," he agreed wryly. More seriously, "You're smart. You'll survive."
"Yes. But surviving will never be enough."
"Not for you." Scott knew that as surely as he knew her name. Lydia would never rest at just 'surviving'. It wasn't good enough for her.
He didn't think she was wrong.
"Try it and see." She stood and offered him a hand, as if to help him up. Ridiculous, considering that he was over a foot taller than her. But that was half of why she did it. "Let's see what we can dig up in the kitchen. Dying of thirst, here."
Scott reached up and let her tug him to his feet. "There's that self-preservation instinct again."
It'd go back, he suspected, once they went inside. She'd be that Lydia again, and not the one he'd just been talking to. He wouldn't be the same as he'd been out here either; just the dick he usually was. So before they made it inside, he said, "We're getting sushi and crepes tomorrow."
Lydia smiled over and up at him. "Meet me at noon in the garage?"
He had moments with certain people that he'd remember forever with absolute clarity. This one would be one of them with her.
Scott smiled back. "I'll be there."
This time, she didn't insult him by saying thanks. The continued smile would be enough--he might not know everything, but she was confident that he knew what that meant.
But she did feel pretty good. Better than she had half an hour ago, in particular.
The little patio out back was nearish the indoor pool, so it always smelled like chlorine. Stupid, maybe, but Lydia found the smell comforting just then. It was too cold to swim outdoors even in later March, here in Westchester County, New York... but back home, it would've been barely doable. And people probably would've been, tomorrow night, at her party. The biggest party of the year, during which Lydia would've changed outfits at least three times and served the most amazing punch imaginable. When all the little high-schoolers of Beacon Hills would've turned up, invited or not, and she would've had the empty pleasure of giving dirty looks to the ones who hadn't been and being worshipped by the ones who had.
Even if hardly any of them actually liked her. That wasn't the point. Very few people in her life would ever like Lydia, and she had even less fucks to give. And yet.
It was always a good party.
She tucked her tight-clad legs up beneath her, settling on a metal lounger sans cushion, just in case one last frost decided to snap up on them. Out like a lamb, so they said, but this March was all lion so far. She leaned back on both hands, cushioned slightly with the light, white-knit sweater over her uncharacteristically casual peasant blouse. The weight of the key was heavy between her breasts; she didn't even know why she'd put the necklace on tonight, anyhow. She hadn't since she'd arrived. Not even on Valentine's Day.
Shit. Maybe she should just find Damon tomorrow and see if he was down for another hate fuck.
Scott hadn't noticed her until he'd left the locker room. Which was good, because it was way too cold to have gone out before he had changed back into street clothes.
He stepped outside after a moment of thought. She looked...uncharacteristically soft; maybe she didn't want company. Or maybe she needed it. So he sat down, silently in the lounger next to her.
When she first looked up, Lydia's gaze was sharp, at odds with the slump of her shoulders and generally relaxed posture. But when she saw it was Scott, she let it drop off. One corner of her mouth even tugged upwards in something of a lackluster yet genuine expression of 'glad-to-see-you'.
Well, to be fair, more 'not-unhappy-to-see-you'. But for Lydia, there wasn't much difference.
"Mmm, looking for the moon, Summers?" she asked.
Half-a-dozen flippant answers entered his mind, but for once Scott suspected that wasn't what she needed from him. It might not even be what she wanted. So he shrugged. "Something like that. You?"
"I'm not a huge fan of the moon," Lydia admitted, though she looked straight up at it. For some reason it reminded her of coming-to completely naked in the woods--and ending up on a street with half the police in town--and Stiles, of all people--staring at her stupidly while she froze. "But it's nice enough. Just wanted to be outside for a while. For such a huge house, it can get a little tight in there. Even if you love your roommate."
Which she was sure Scott did not, but in her way, Lydia sort of did. Still, she occasionally needed to go outside. By herself. She made herself do it sometimes, just to prove she could. And every time, when she ran into someone there--as she inevitably did--she was secretly grateful.
Weirdest fucking year ever. Seriously.
Scott nodded in understanding. Not that he had real experience with loving one's roommate (even if maybe, just sometimes, he didn't dislike the guy), but the rest of it...yeah, it could be a little much. "You want me to leave?"
She shook her head and shot him something that edged dangerously close to a smile, if a touch on the wry side. "You're all right. When you want to be." Then, she smiled for real and glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. "What are you up to, really?" Obviously nothing important or he wouldn't be plopping down next to her. But he must've been on his way somewhere.
He'd seen a lot of Lydia's expressions, but Scott was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen something so genuine from her. He liked it. Not that he didn't like her no nonsense manipulative streak too, but she was more real this way.
"I was swimming. Saw you as I came out, and came over." He shrugged. "Not really up to anything."
Good answer. She looked back up at the moon and asked, "When's your birthday?"
"January 18th." Scott turned in his seat to see her better; the glasses weren't great for night vision, they didn't have the tech that the visor-thing did, so his visibility wasn't the best. Once adjusted, he looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. Lydia didn't generally do idle questions -- but this was a different Lydia than he was used to.
"Why?" He finally asked. "When's yours?"
She shot him an utterly false dirty look for the just-past birthday--but of course he hadn't told anyone, so there was nothing really dirty in it. Then she said easily, "Tomorrow."
"Happy early birthday, then," Scott offered, shrugging off her feigned anger. "That why you're out here?"
She was already looking back up at the sky, but a tiny smile appeared again. It showed how off her game she was, but she'd only just noticed that he'd turned toward her. "Mmm, I think so. I don't know. Normally I don't think about anything but the party, the day before my birthday. This year, everything is different."
"What was it like before?" Scott knew he was probably walking a dangerous line here - like him, Lydia rarely talked about before - but he so rarely got a chance to see this Lydia that he almost couldn't help it.
But this, at least, was something Lydia didn't mind referencing about her past. "It was... quiet. And small. And it seemed very important, even though I was treating it like training for something that I knew was bigger." She looked over at him again, eyebrows going up and something like her usual smirk appearing--though it was decidedly self-deprecating. "My birthday party was the biggest event of the year in Beacon Hills."
He smiled slightly. "I'm not remotely surprised."
"What about you? What did you do for your birthday this year?"
Scott shrugged. "Nothing. Same as every year."
He hadn't celebrated his birthday since he'd been a kid. Just hadn't seemed worth it, and no one would've cared anyway.
"Kind of looking forward to nothing," Lydia admitted. She frowned a little, though, because also... kind of not.
Kind of disliked that being the town whack-job had meant she hadn't even minded abandoning her hometown. Kind of wished that she'd had more options. Kind of wondered what the fuck she was even doing here, trying to navigate this brave new world where social graces meant so much less than anywhere she'd ever imagined.
Even though if she'd been in possession of all the facts... she would've chosen Xavier's, still. She knew that, now. It didn't make it not sting, though. Right there. In her side. Where the scar was.
"I just wish nothing came with a lot less self-reflection. Does your birthday nothing involve reflection, Scott?"
It would be so easy to deflect, or to lie. And normal he would've. But she had finally succeeded at knocking him off-balance, and the one time she hadn't even been trying to.
Ironic, Scott guessed.
"Yeah. Every year."
"And that would be the bit I'm not looking forward to." She sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. She turned to let her legs hang over the edge facing Scott. "I can't decide if this is the year everything went to shit, or the year everything started to make sense. I think the problem is that both would feel like the former, in the moment, so there's no way to tell. Opinions?"
It was way more honest than anything she'd ever said to him--something she would've said to Jean-Paul. Of course, Scott knew nothing about... well, Jackson. But just in general.
"I'm not sure I actually know you well enough to give you a useful answer," Scott said after a minute of thought. He didn't, really. He knew some things about her, definitely. And he'd combined a lot of those things to make some guesses about things she'd never told him, but he'd wanted to know.
But that wasn't really the same as knowing for sure.
"Then answer for yourself."
He was silent for several long moments. After all, the careful surgical manipulation hadn't been all one-sided here. But finally, he admitted, "My life went to hell a long time ago. This has been a step up, for me."
And now Lydia was the one who was not remotely surprised. It was clear that Scott was fucked up, the only question was how, and she knew better than to pose questions she wouldn't be keen on answering herself to someone as sharp as Scott Summers. Lydia said, "I'm glad." And whether she meant glad that he'd managed a step up or that she was glad he considered this, her new home, too, a step up, he could decide for himself. She wasn't sure, and she assumed that meant both.
"If I were particularly hopeful, optimistic, and possibly vacuous, I'd say I was sure that was a sign for all of us whose lives went to hell--both long ago and recently. But I doubt it."
"I've never put a lot of stock in 'signs.'" He smirked. "I'm sure you're shocked."
"To my core," she agreed with a little snort of a laugh. She glanced at the house, then back to him. "What do you put stock in, these days?"
Scott met her gaze through ruby quartz, though he'd no idea if she knew he was doing so. "I bet you already know that answer."
"I suspect," she said, holding his gaze with her own--or, at least, assuming she was--which was wide and open. Her shoulders stayed rounded, her hands gripped the edge of the lounger firmly, but gently. "But I'm too tired to play tonight. So I asked."
Wow. Okay.
"I put stock in what I can see and anticipate."
"What we can quantify." Lydia sighed, but just a little, and shook her head to throw her hair over her shoulder. Irritating, god, what she wouldn't give for a ponytail, right then. "I'll make my birthday wish for more of that. Then we'll both be happier."
"Maybe." She was almost ethereal like this, vulnerable and only semi-visible in the odd light of the moon. Scott figured he'd blame that for the impulse to ask, "are you unhappy?"
Lydia looked up again, wondering. She tried to think of being happy. Of Jackson's bed, and him handing her the key that now hung heavy and cold beneath her shirt. Of they way Allison, of all her friends, had been the one to treat her no differently--at least, for a while--after the hospital. Of how hard Stiles--god, that idiot, but he really had been sweet--had tried. Of telling Jean-Paul the truth and having him flop into her lap and smile and treat her like she was fucking human after all. That last one opened up the gate of the people here who could make her happy for those brief moments. Toph, Betsy, hell, even Damon had his moments lately.
And Scott. So again, she told him the truth. "I'm too ambitious to be happy. But there are moments. You?"
Her honesty hit him in the gut, and so he answered rather than changing the subject. "I'm not sure I know how to be."
She cocked her head. "But you have moments?" Again, she could've told. But she asked.
Getting his brother back, spending time with Lil, the feeling that first time he'd ridden his bike... "Yeah, I've got moments."
"Yeah." Lydia smiled. It wasn't for every day use, letting him even this close, getting this close to him. For all kinds of reasons that were perfectly quantifiable, though for the moment, she would rather not crunch those particular numbers. But it was, to be honest, good. "You do."
He smiled back, unguarded and genuine, at least for a moment. This was...nice. Serious for a reason he hadn't entirely grasped yet, but whatever her reasons were, this made him feel oddly content in his own skin. He couldn't have possibly explained why.
"You know, I like you like this." He confessed.
"And I was just thinking that I like you like this." The small smile never left, her eyes remained open and honest, but one corner of her lips pulled up a little more. Not that she was one of those girls who cared how a boy liked her. But they were even, anyhow. "And luckily, neither of us needs warned not to get used to it, even."
She didn't want it to stop. She wanted to stay and talk about nothing without having to second guess herself--but more, without having to second guess him. She wanted to close the old doors and throw away the key, so whatever was behind them could wither and finally fucking die. She wanted to stretch out on the lounger and look up at the terrifying moon and ask him to stay a little while and tell her how his life had gone to hell.
But she wasn't ready for him to see her cry. And she probably wasn't ready to see him cry, figuratively speaking, either. So she just smiled and said, "But thanks."
He shrugged. "Nothing to thank me for."
"Yes, there is." She leaned back on her hands again. "Just as a warning, someday I'm going to ask." About everything. Just not tonight.
Scott watched her for a minute. Everything would be a tall order, even with the 'someday' caveat. That should frighten him; normally it would.
He wasn't sure why it didn't.
"Don't ask for more than you can give in return."
"Precisely why I'm not asking tonight." She smiled.
"And what will you tell me tonight, if I ask?" Scott wondered.
"More than usual, less than everything."
He crossed his legs and got comfortable, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he watched her. "You gonna make me ask?"
Still smiling, though one corner pulled up a little farther than the other, Lydia nodded.
"Of course," Scott murmured to himself. He didn't sound put-out, though, just amused. Where to start? That was the real question here. "Is this just about your birthday?"
"It is about everything that made my birthday important," she said, easily enough. "My friends, mainly. And yes. My ex-boyfriend."
"You miss them?"
"I miss what I thought they were." She hadn't considered it in those terms, but it was true. When things unraveled for Lydia, both inside her and around her, they'd shown who they were. And she hadn't known as well as she'd thought. "So no."
And because he knew the rules, she didn't preface her own question: "Do you miss anyone from home?"
"Since we're being honest...which one?"
"The last one, wherever it was."
"Omaha." Did he miss anyone? Like, really, truly miss them? He occasionally missed random things about Omaha, no matter how weird that was, since it was Nebraska. But the people that he'd actually known? "No."
"What did you think they were that you miss?"
"My friends." Lydia shifted her hair again, this time over one shoulder, and started separating it to three long strands of shining, loose curls, then braiding it lazily. Just to get it off her back, finally. This... was nice. It was still a little too formal, a little too tit-for-tat to feel completely real, but again, it was as close as she could feel safe getting, with him. "Which I of course told myself I didn't need, because I will not be one of those girls who desires the love and affection of all when obedience and fear is clearly the more efficacious route. But then again, I'm sixteen. For another night.
"Where are your old friends, Scott, if they're not in Omaha?"
He smiled self-deprecatingly. "I don't have any."
"Didn't," She corrected, still braiding. "But yes, that's just what I mean."
"Touche." His eyes followed her hands as they wove her hair together. However difficult it was to see in the dark for him, his eyes still tracked motion when they could actually make it out. Kinda mesmerizing, really. "Well, it's their loss, anyway. Your friends, or not-friends, I mean."
She tied off the end of the braid with a deft but decidedly temporary knot. She hardly ever pulled her hair back in company, unless it was for the sake of yoga, but she really didn't want to deal, right then. "That's what I tell myself. Sometimes I even believe it. Well. I guess this place is like starting over in all sorts of unexpected ways."
"Unexpected in what ways?"
"It was the end of everything I had planned, coming here. I pretended it wasn't, but it was." She cocked her head thoughtfully, playing with the end of her braid. "I didn't expect it would be the beginning of so many other things."
Things she was fairly certain she'd never get away from, now.
She asked, "What did you think you were getting into? Any of this?"
"I thought I was getting onto a plane," and he'd nearly had a fucking panic attack when he'd done so, "with a couple of creepy old guys who had completely incomprehensible motives."
Scott chuckled, and shook his head a little. "I wasn't wrong. But I guess it doesn't count as a plan. I'm betting you'd planned your whole life out?"
Her expression would tell of her absolute sympathy with his description of the situation, so all she had to say was two words to answer his question: "Fields Medal. Still not improbable. Just... not as quickly.
"What was your plan?"
"It wasn't setting some kind of land-speed record for math awards, that's for sure." Scott said. Not a complete answer, and he knew it, but the idea of being this honest, at least about this...he'd never said this. "My plan was to stay alive. I've got low expectations."
She watched him for a moment, at once sorry and glad that she couldn't see his eyes properly. She could ask... but she wouldn't, because it was more than she was willing to give. "Not low. Smart. I was allowed to take survival for granted for a long time. I won't do it again. It's nice to know I'm in good company, at least."
She was looking at him and Scott glanced away, thankful that she wouldn't be able to tell he'd glanced away in discomfort. Now he just had to hope that the heat he felt creeping up his neck to his ears wouldn't be visible to her either.
"Company, definitely. 'Good' is a matter of opinion," he agreed wryly. More seriously, "You're smart. You'll survive."
"Yes. But surviving will never be enough."
"Not for you." Scott knew that as surely as he knew her name. Lydia would never rest at just 'surviving'. It wasn't good enough for her.
He didn't think she was wrong.
"Try it and see." She stood and offered him a hand, as if to help him up. Ridiculous, considering that he was over a foot taller than her. But that was half of why she did it. "Let's see what we can dig up in the kitchen. Dying of thirst, here."
Scott reached up and let her tug him to his feet. "There's that self-preservation instinct again."
It'd go back, he suspected, once they went inside. She'd be that Lydia again, and not the one he'd just been talking to. He wouldn't be the same as he'd been out here either; just the dick he usually was. So before they made it inside, he said, "We're getting sushi and crepes tomorrow."
Lydia smiled over and up at him. "Meet me at noon in the garage?"
He had moments with certain people that he'd remember forever with absolute clarity. This one would be one of them with her.
Scott smiled back. "I'll be there."
This time, she didn't insult him by saying thanks. The continued smile would be enough--he might not know everything, but she was confident that he knew what that meant.
But she did feel pretty good. Better than she had half an hour ago, in particular.
