To Fall and Rise
http://archiveofourown.org/works/13456434
Stiles was just getting off a grueling double shift at the student coffee shop, shrugging on his worn grey coat when he saw her walk in. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They shone, similar to the way the waters in Tahiti sparkled at high noon. They looked like the night sky, hiding just as many secrets. She was gracefully drenched, water dripping from the bleak brown hair her delicate hands were wringing out. Her skin was almost translucent, in comparison to the heavy black sweater that hung from her body, showcasing ever curve of her petite figure under the weight of the water. Her cheeks were spotted with freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks which were curved up into a smile, laugh carried through the air like a bell ringing.
Lydia saw him too, he was taller than most people she’d seen in the past 24 years. There was something unique about his face, it was framed by big boxy black glasses which made his light brown eyes look smaller. His brown hair hung into his view and he was staring at her. Most people didn’t gawk at others this way, but she thought it was interesting. She couldn’t help but smile shyly at him.
He started walking out of the building, almost feeling the heat radiate off her body. The breeze from the doorway rustled her hair, attacking his face with the smell of pomegranates and orchids. He almost said something to her, but as he turned she was gone.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the little glimpse of her he’d gotten was enough to cloud his thoughts for the weeks following that glorious moment. He sat in Digital Forensics Lecture, usually fascinated by the content, but distracted and turning quickly whenever he thought he saw her walk past the windows. She found herself thinking of him as well, walking around campus, she’d asked around about him but came up empty more often than not. She felt strange when she thought of him, like bubbles in her stomach, but she pushed it away.
They were still on each other’s minds when they found themselves at some trashy party, he had been dragged by his friends and she decided it was a good idea to try and be as human as possible. Another quick turn from him was finally rewarded by her walking in. Her once dark hair, now appeared Strawberry Blonde in its dry glory, falling in perfect curls around her face and down her back. Her emerald eyes seemed florescent under the neon lights and her skin shone like a full moon in the darkness.
He wasn’t going to let her slip away this time, he ruffled his spiked hair and downed his drink for liquid courage before walking up to her. She was alone again, and seemed surprised someone had walked up to her, he wouldn’t let himself miss out on the chance of knowing her. She was just surprised he had found her. She felt her stomach do weird things again, she wished she’d found him first.
“Can I get you a drink?” his voice deeper than she’d imagined for someone with such a lanky build.
“I don’t drink…” She said the words so quickly, almost out of instinct and almost winced at how standoffish it sounded to her. He thought her voice chimed like a melody to a favorite song he didn’t know he had.
“How about water then? Or we could dance? I could get you some food?” The eagerness in his voice made her laugh softly, like bells ringing. It was endearing, she thought about the questions before answering slowly.
“Water sounds appropriate. Dancing to this music seems difficult. Food is trivial.” He found the way she spoke intriguing, when she knew it should’ve put him off. Standing this close to her made his head whirl with the smell of her. She just watched him as he reached for her hand, weaving his way through the heavy crowd to find the kitchen he knew well. His hair bounced with his step that he somehow kept in rhythm with the music. His hand was rough and calloused against hers. This was the first time she’d touched someone. Her hand was smooth like glass and somehow warm like an early summer day in the Caribbean despite the chilly weather outside.
They spoke well into the night, sitting on the edge of the porch just barely engulfed by the heat of the house but still isolated from the party. He gripped the water bottle he’d gotten her, still unopened. Their hands sought each other out, she loved the way he focused on her, and the way his thumb rested on the back of her hand. She was different, from the way she spoke to the way her skin seemed to glow with the pale moonlight.
He tried asking for her phone number. She realized she never needed a phone before meeting him.
“I’ll find you.”
He was restless waiting, the wet chill of winter seemed to melt into spring, making a couple weeks seem like months. Scott urged him to move past her, she didn’t feel real, not since he met her and yet every detail from his memory was so vivid, there was no way she wasn’t. She was having trouble finding him, every moment that passed made her ache that much stronger.
Another week passed before she found him. She was standing against the wall outside the coffee shop. She smiled, wider than she thought she could, and in that moment, he knew she had been waiting for him. He was greasy and sweaty from the steam and long work shift making cappuccinos, but she held his hand anyway. She led him through campus, no words exchanged. She often thought words didn’t capture feelings accurately.
He probably should’ve asked her for her phone number, or something so he could find again. He gripped her hand, almost waiting for her to disappear. When she didn’t, he followed her willingly, intoxicated by her smell.
“I never got your name.” His voice came out a whisper a few minutes after they’d started walking.
“That is a very human thing to ask.”
“Well, we are human.”
She didn’t correct him. “Lydia.” She answered simply, the word sounding angelic on her tongue. The moment she said it, he couldn’t imagine calling her anything else. It was a key into a lock to some mystery he didn’t know he was solving.
“I’m Stiles.”
“I know.” A confident smile so evident in her voice, that he couldn’t doubt her statement.
They ended up laying on the old sledding hill on the south side of campus, the grass damp and too tall, a useless barrier from the chilly air around them. Next to her, he felt warm, despite the blue cold creeping onto his fingers and lips. She felt complete again with him by her side.
They didn’t speak this time, just watching the sky turn every shade imaginable, as if they’d picked the best seat in the house, until it became a deep blue that reminded him of her, and her of home.
“That’s Kira.” She pointed up at the bright star near the moon. She wasn’t holding back with him, so she might as well be honest. “She fixes broken dream and wills, she was the one who pushed Tesla until he created the lightbulb. That’s Derek, He and his two siblings have been around forever. Sometimes they like to flicker and dim until they’re almost invisible just to mess with the humans. That’s Malia, she likes to help people think of dreams, then accomplish them. Her best work is unfortunately Hitler and World War II, it got a little out of hand. We still hold that over her head. She should have known better. And that is Allison, my best friend. She likes helping people accomplish ordinary dreams. I do not know how she does it. I miss her most.”
Stiles furrowed his brow, the words coming out of her mouth were strange, but she wasn’t like any other girl. She made his life brighter like the moon brightened up the sky. She thought maybe she’d said too much until he spoke:
“Which one are you?”
“I’m right here, silly.”
He walked her home around 2am. She spent all night talking about her friends, the stars, like it was the most natural thing in the world. To her it was. They stood outside the green doors to her house, wordlessly admiring each other. He was trying to figure out what emotion was twinkling in her eyes and she was trying to understand the shape of his face, the way his jaw was cut, the hollow of his cheekbones or the way his deep caramel eyes changed color at night.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against her cheek for just a second, her smooth skin almost too warm, made him crave more. She couldn’t understand why her stomach tightened, or the wave of nausea that came over her. She stepped back and into the house, closing the door. He felt like he did something wrong, but couldn’t bring himself to regret what seemed to be the best moment of his existence, so he hoped. Lydia knew nothing ever lasted, it blazed fast and disintegrated into nothingness. She’d seen it happen a million times over the last three thousand years and it was made her lose hope.
She avoided him for 10 days, he was starting to think that he had misinterpreted their last encounter until he found her at his door that Tuesday night, holding a stack of movies and a liter bottle of water. She tried to stay away, but the reminder of his eyes sparking just for her, his cool lips on her cheek and their silent conversations lured him back for more. She ignored the twist her stomach did when he smiled at her. She figured if she was stuck here, she might as well enjoy it.
They sat on his uncomfortable futon, shifting, trying to find an easy spot next to each other for an hour until she eventually nuzzled herself under his arm, against his chest, the back of her head fitting perfectly into the curve of his shoulder. She felt warm against his chest, their skins tingled where his hand fell naturally to her waist. Two movies and a bathroom break for him later, she spoke, almost startling him after the prolonged silence. She was curious about him.
“Tell me about your family.”
Stiles stumbled to answer “My dad’s a Police officer – well I guess he’s the sheriff actually, and my mom, she um… she passed away a couple years ago. He’s married to Melissa. She’s my best friend, Scott’s Mom and She owns a craft store. Scott goes to school here too. My younger brother, well half-brother- is six and wants to be an astronaut. My parents are both only child’s, so that’s about it. I never knew any of my grandparents, except my grandmother on my mom’s side, who taught me how to knit. She lived in a home now. I can’t remember the last time I saw her.” She watched him speak, envying all these people who’d known Stiles his whole life. She wished she had, the years on earth spent without him felt wasted now. “Your turn.”
“I don’t have a family.” She picked up his hand from her waist and ran her index finger along the skin of his wrist and forearm. He thought she was trying to find something wrong with it, but she was just trying to distract herself from the conversation she’d initiated.
“Everyone has a family…”
“Not where I’m from.” Stiles could tell there was no more asking her about it, she linked their fingers together and rested her head back on his shoulder, continuing to watch the movie unfold in front of them.
That was the first time they spent the night together. He remembers waking up to the soft sounds of her breath tickling the hairs on his neck, the morning light sneaking through the blinds reflected onto her skin. He laid on the uncomfortable futon, but she was using him as a mattress, curled into him. She remembers waking up to a shifting mass under her, she was startled but quickly moved off him when he muttered about having to use the restroom.
This quickly became routine for them, always in his room, but now in his lofted bed. She’d crawl into his bed around midnight every night, after spending hours on his futon watching movies, often waiting for him to finish his forensics homework into all hours of the night. He would jump into the small bed, pressing her into him while she buried herself further into the blankets and him. There would be whispers of hopes and dreams between them, Stiles told her he had hopes of becoming a detective, she would giggle into his neck, loving the sound of his confiding voice.
It was a Wednesday when she’d asked him to stay at her house for the first time. They had been sleeping in the same bed for a month now, the winter since faded into a cool spring. She had embraced them, so she wanted him to feel welcome where she felt most comfortable.
He was shocked, considering he’d only been to her house to drop her off and that ended terribly. He was excited and terrified about what was being those old green doors.
On the outside, her home seemed like a typical small house on the edge of campus. When he walked inside, her smell engulfed him, making him as dizzy as the first time he’d smelt it. The living room consisted of one large sofa facing a medium sized television with at least 300 movies stacked around it. He knew she loved movies, but he didn’t quite grasp the extent of her obsession until this moment. The center room also extended into a small kitchen, seeming unused, but she skipped over this entirely heading to her bedroom. She assumed he would follow and he did.
The walls of her bedroom were painted the color of her eyes, with white paint splattered across it resembling the milky way. The bed took up half the small room, sheets messy atop it, which surprised him considering she hadn’t spent the night here in a while. The wall across from the bed had her desk propped against it and was covered in drawings in what could only be graphite pen. Some consisted of angels, closeups of different kinds of wings and people Stiles could only imagine were her friends because of the nostalgia the pictures brought. Then there were drawings of utterly mundane objects drawn in dark light and devastating images. For Lydia, this might as well have been showing Stiles her healing soul.
“I didn’t know you draw.”
He approached the wall of drawings in front of him, making them unwillingly let go of each other’s hands. She watched him, weary of his reactions. He saw her desk scattered with drawings of him, from all angles and distances. He picked one up and frowned; he’d never thought of himself as beautiful until this moment. Was this how she saw him? His fingers grazed the lines of his face on the page and he couldn’t control the smile sprouting from within him.
“I can never get it right. I was hoping I could draw you.”
“Why would you want to draw me? I’m so ordinary and you’re- “
“Let me draw you.”
He obliged willingly. She was his soft spot, and he was pretty sure he’d do anything she asked. She felt the happiness rise in her chest as she guided him into the position she wanted. His breath hitched as she ran her fingers through it to get it to stick up like she loved. He studied her face like he did on most nights, but he’d never seen her brow furrow in concentration like this. He couldn’t help but smile a little, which earned him a scowl from her for moving.
When she was finished, Stiles felt like he was looking into a black and white mirror, and yet the beautiful creature on the page couldn’t be him. He looked up at her to say something, but every thought he’d ever had was wiped from his mind when he saw how she looked at him. He was her whole world. Lydia knew that now.
The way her eyes shined mischievously should’ve scared, not excited him. She kissed him this time, settling onto his lap. Despite his shock, he gave into her quickly. Since the night she’d run away from him, he had hesitated making any moves, but now he was giving into himself and her. He kissed her the way he wanted to for so long. She gave into him: she knew everything always ended in pain and suffering, but she didn’t care because she had him. Everything had led her to him.
Stiles woke up a smile on his face as his mind quickly reminded him of the night before. He tried to pull her into him, only to find his arms without her. He looked around the empty room before pulling on his boxers and walking into the main area. Lydia was humming to herself, facing away from him, wearing nothing but a worn tank top and her underwear. He started walking towards her when he noticed it.
She had two scars running down her shoulder blades, each about two inches thick, curving slightly before disappearing under her tank top. The skin of the scar was splotchy and fresh, like it was only a few months old. He walked up to her and gently grazed his fingers on one of them, the skin felt different than the rest of her had: rough, prickly, almost like something had been ripped from her body. She instantly flinched away from his fingers, a hiss coming out of her perfect mouth at the pain he had caused her, turning to him.
“What is that?”
It was more of a demand than a question, but she pulled him into a kiss to avoid talking about it. She’d hoped she could evade this conversation altogether. She gripped his back, holding him to her before his hands rested on her waist. How hadn’t he noticed the scars before?
“You’re not going to kiss your way out of this.”
She ignored him, turning back to the burnt scrambled eggs she was making for him. It took him a few seconds to realize the food was for him. He’d never seen her eat, and she’d mentioned a few times how trivial and human food was. Lydia handed a plate of food to him which he ate, despite the singed taste. She often reminded him to eat, especially when he went hours without it until his stomach would groan in protest sending her into a laughing fit.
He tried to figure out a way to bring up the scars again, he wanted to know about her, about them. It seemed like he told her everything and she skirted around topics of where she was from and where she grew up by saying vague things like “growing up is an abstract concept” and “everywhere”. He couldn’t tell if it was more endearing or infuriating.
She knew if she told him the truth, everything would change, yet she knew he knew she was different. Lydia wasn’t a normal human because she wasn’t exactly human. She wanted to put it off longer, the confusion and sadness stirred up her insides. She didn’t want to hurt him, the idea brought her more pain.
“What are the scars, Lydia?” they both hated the audible ice in his voice, so she decided to be honest with him. She couldn’t lie to him.
“They are from where my wings used to be.”
“I’m being serious Lyds. Just tell me the truth.”
“That is the truth, Stiles. I am an angel whose wings were taken and these scars are a painful reminder of my wrong doings.”
He tried not to chuckle, it seemed ridiculous what she was saying and yet he knew she was telling the truth. He’d never really lied to him before. But an angel? He’d thought about it but never literally. She just watched as he stared at her quietly, obviously too much going on in his mind. If he left, it would just confirm every thought she’d had about the human world that sent her here.
“Why are you here now?”
She couldn’t look at him. “When an Angel has lost their purpose, or done something wrong, they lose their wings. Banished to Earth to live life amongst humans and never aging.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” He secretly hoped she didn’t do anything wrong, but his mind went to the worst. Was she a Satan Sympathizer? Did she hurt a human?
“You see, I am what can only be described in mortal words as a…Star Angel. Our purpose in eternity is to help souls manifest their dreams, and aid their divine higher selves in experiencing and accomplishing these dreams. We also assist in discerning a soul dream from a goal that might take you off your path or be a distraction. The reason I am here now…” Her voice shook. “…is because I believe souls are too easily swayed; there is no helping the bad ones. When souls achieve their goals, they go back up There – you humans would call it heaven- but most souls get lost along the way. All the other planets, but mostly Earth, have showed me over the last three thousand years that souls are weak. Most souls go to the bad place – Hell, for all intents and purposes – because they are distracted by mortal temptations. And the ones who achieve their goals only end up back here on Earth a decade or two later. It is pointless really. So, my wings were taken.”
Stiles had no trouble understanding it. An Angel who was supposed to help people reach their goals became pessimistic due to human nature. It had taken Lydia three thousand years to realize what Stiles had known since he was fourteen. Humans suck.
But he was confused, she seemed intrigued, fascinated by humans. She often wanted to know about his every thought and what food tasted like to him. He never even tried to hide anything from her.
“But you love humans. Their thoughts, watching them, movies.”
“Your movies often idolize the qualities you lack, making an average human to be a villain. Your morals sway so much over the years, and there’s only been movies for the past 80 years. Watching humans on this planet is comforting because it’s equally as disappointing here as it was There.”
“What about all your questions about me and my thoughts and my family- “
“Stiles, you are different from any soul or human I’ve ever observed.” The way her voice lowered when she said those words confirmed her honestly. She was also biased when it came to him, because despite how plainly ordinary he was, she loved him.
He stared at the angel in front of him and everything came together. The way her skin seemed to radiate light, even at night, the way she spoke, the pain she felt whenever she leaned too far back in her chair. She made sense now in a way she hadn’t before. He only loved her more.
When he pulled her into his arms, he felt his heart tighten in his chest. She looked at him, and he looked at her the same way he always had. The sparkle in his eyes gave her a hope she hadn’t felt in centuries, bringing a twinge of pain where her wings used to be. Hope was a bad sign for her, and yet it grew inside, intertwined with her love for him. It would send her back to a place she didn’t want to be. She didn’t feel like she was meant to be everyone’s Angel, she was meant to be Stiles’ human.
Days and months passed, their relationship grew stronger as the weather grew warmer, scalding them whenever they stepped outside, or whenever Her skin touched his. This didn’t stop him. The more time she spent with him, the more her scars tugged with the hope growing inside of her, wings waiting to sprout in the heat.
She sat on the grass, watching Stiles as he laid next to her, eyes closed humming to himself. Finals for him had finished earlier that week, but they couldn’t pull themselves from their favorite spot atop that hill.
“What does an angel do when she’d done with school?”
“Get a summer job, just like everyone else.”
Stiles chuckled and looked up at her through squinted eyes and cheap sunglasses. She pressed her lips against his, feeling a tug on her shoulder. She knew he would be going home to help out his dad, and he’d asked her to come. She was hesitant, she knew her time on earth with him was withering away.
She couldn’t stay away from him too long, her heart tugging in his direction whenever they spoke. Three days after he left, she joined him and his family. They were kind, and smart and knew what they were doing. Despite his Mother’s death, they functioned as best they could, which Lydia thought was admirable. The old house Stiles had grown up in explained so much about him. She ran her fingers over the ridges of height marks on the inside of the pantry door, smiled at the posters that covered his walls, the pictures carefully scattered around the house. Everything she admired carried a memory he later explained to her between soft kisses and damp sheets.
She fit right in with his family, His Step-Mother offered her a summer job at the craft store, wanting to spend time with the girl who snagged her Stiles. His father kept making comments under his breath about sealing the deal and marrying her before someone else could. She remembered hearing those comments, that night lying in bed Stiles’ face in her chest, fast asleep whilst she spent hours imagining a life with him that she’d never had. She wanted to grow old with him, have kids, live in a house like the one he’d grown up with, dying happily in each other’s arms. Every happy memory made her scars tingle with the burn of impossibility.
Humans feared death, but Lydia welcomed it with open arms. She wasn’t fit to be an Angel but she’d go back soon enough. The pain of the scars unbearable most days, she hid this from Stiles but he saw the pain in her smile and the way she sat most days.
He pretended, for her benefit. He wanted her to tell him, but the days were cooling down and she seemed to be withering away from him. Her skin’s shine was slowly becoming a glow and the scars on her back seemed to be protruding at odd angles more than shoulder blades should. The hope he gave her made him more cynical with the thought of a life without her.
By the time the leaves turned, they were living in her tiny house, falling into a comfortable rhythm. They both knew it would end soon.
One night in September, she woke up shaking, her body covered in sweat, and the pain from her shoulders made her whimper and groan enough to wake him up. The sight in front of him vaguely reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, drenched then too. He pulled her into his arms, trying to rock and sway the pain form her.
It felt too soon; they hadn’t been with each other for a year. She couldn’t go yet.
He refused to let go. He had so many regrets, he wanted more time, to tell her all the things he hadn’t, to talk about her leaving, just more time. His hands were unyielding.
“Stiles, please.” Her voice shook, barely audible. “Don’t make this harder. You know if this were my choice, I would stay. Growing old doesn’t seem abstract to me anymore, not with you.”
“Life without you is bleak and cruel. It was before you and it will be after.”
“Eternity without you seems bleak and cruel. S, you’ve given me hope…” her hand held his hair almost limply.
“Maybe my greater purpose was to help you…”
Lydia smiled, pressing her finally cool lips against his for the last time. “I’ll see you soon…”
A shriek erupted from her lips following the hopeful words. She curled away from him before the house fell silent, and her eyes fell closed. Two giant auburn clouds sprouted from her shoulders, swirling like soft serve or a cinnamon roll covered in icing. They were different than anything Stiles had imagined; they didn’t have feathers or look anything like her drawings, and yet somehow, they fit her perfectly. He watched her body slowly fade into translucency and glow in the light before disappearing altogether.
Lydia sat next to Allison, watching the souls below. She didn’t tell any of her friends about Stiles, she was sure they’d watched. She didn’t speak of it, as it brought a mix of sadness and happiness into her that she couldn’t bear, but she kept watching him. She saw him grow old as the years passed, marrying a girl from his hometown. They had three kids, and he died from old age when he was eighty-seven. That day she waited, hoping his soul would remember, and everything would make sense again.
She watched his soul ascend, looking strange because it wasn’t her Stiles. She looked at the soul, waiting, hoping. The soul smiled warmly at her the way Stiles would, before nodding and disappearing above, making the spot where her humanly heart would be, ache with longing for someone who no longer existed.
