The Scent of You and My Memories
The next day found Scott wrapped around Allison in the lunchroom. Jackson sat across from them, Danny to his right. Despite the attention he was receiving from his girlfriend, Scott couldn't help but keep his eyes glued to the seat where Stiles would usually sit. He couldn't help but wonder how many times had Stiles been absent from their lunch table and how many times he had failed to notice it.
"Where is Stiles," he asked, confused by the way Allison's shoulders tensed and Danny's eyes darkened.
"Guess he had other plans," Danny said, his eyes blazing.
Scott ignored the look and turned towards Allison, pushing back the turmoil he felt when he thought of his best friend. She offered him a smile before she turned to bag, pulling out a bag of Hershey kisses.
Chocolate. The scent assaulted his lupine senses, causing his stomach to drop the floor. The smell of the chocolate caused dozens of memories to flash through his head and before he knew it, he had jumped from his seat, ignoring the startled faces of his friends. Muttering excuses, he left the lunch room and began a search for his best friend.
As an eighth grader, it had become expected that every boy was supposed to have a crush. If you didn't have a crush, then you were just weird.
Stiles and Scott were tired of being weird. Which is why they both had pledged at the beginning of the year that they would do everything within their power to shed their label of weird.
For Stiles, to pretend to have a crush would be impossible, as he already had one. The boy had it bad for Lydia Martin and had been crushing on her since she had pushed Stiles down in the sandbox because his sox didn't match in kindergarten.
Scott, however, couldn't find himself actually interested in any of the girls in or outside of his grade, nor could he imagine telling people that liked any one. To be honest, girls could barely hold his interest. Why would they? He had Stiles, and Stiles always managed to brighten his day.
Valentine's Day presented a dilemma though. Weird boys acted like they had no desire in girls; normal boys shoved cards and candies into normal girl's lockers. Scott could not see the merit in this. Why did he have to subject himself to giving cards and candies to girls when he didn't want to.
In all honesty, the issue at hand was the fact that there was not a single girl in all of Beacon Hills that Scott wanted to even pretend to like, let alone make a declarative gesture to in front of all of his fellow classmates.
Clarissa Clark was not beautiful nor was she ugly. She was like many thirteen old girls: plain and hardly memorable, which translated to the perfect person for Scott to deliver a valentine to.
So on Valentine's Day, Scott and Stiles entered Beacon Hills Middle School, armed with bright red cards with bright red hearts and mini boxes of chocolate. The idea had been to go up to their targets, drop the, gifts off and head out, playing it of cool that they didn't care whether the girls preened over the goodies.
The plan did not go as expected. Both boys put off giving their gifts until the end of the day neither finding the courage to embark on the socially-expected adventure. Scott had gone one way, towards Clarissa's locker, while Stiles had gone the other, towards Lydia's.
Clarissa refused to accept Scott's candy, referring to bible quotes and what her pastor had said about the evils of teenage love. Scott just wanted to drop the candy and run. Dodging Clarissa's attempts at recruiting Scott to her church, he took off towards the bus, waiting for Stiles to join him.
He was not disappointed, for his attention-challenged joined him a minute later, and shrugged off Scott's questions about how his Valentine's Day attempt had gone. It wasn't until the boys were in Scott's room, propped against the foot of his bead, videos games on for nothing but distraction, did Stiles tell Scott that Lydia had simply took the card and candy and dropped it in a bag filled with similar confections.
Giving Stiles a smile, Scott had pulled out his box of chocolate and offered them to his downtrodden friend. Smiling, Stiles accepted and goaded Scott into a rematch. Hours later, both boys had fallen asleep, the scent of chocolate lingering in the air.
Scott fled for the first that he could think of where Stiles might be. Bursting through the doors of the school's library, he ignored the withering glare he received from the librarian and frantically scanned the library's foyer. When he was met with no results for his search, he drove himself deeper into the library, searching between the stacks, his eyes raking over the study tables and cubbies.
When he reached the back of the library, he found Lydia Martin sitting on a table, a nail file in hand, acting as if she had been waiting for him. Given the girl's freakish intelligence, Scott wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. She gave him a scrutinizing look, almost as if she were daring to speak first.
"You looking for someone," Lydia asked, an eyebrow raised.
Scott shook his head, attempting to discreetly look around. Stiles was nowhere in sight. Sighing, Scott's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"He isn't here, in case you're wondering," Lydia said, venom lacing her voice.
Scott glared at her before responding. "How do you know I'm looking for Stiles," he asked.
"I can smell it on you from a mile away. You reek of desperation. It's a scent you've come to emit when thinking about or dealing with Stiles," Lydia responded, casting her speculative gaze on her nails.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Scott spat back, body tensing.
Lydia scoffed, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Please. I know more about anything than anyone in this moronic town," she said slowly as if she was talking to a child.
"You know, Stiles is different than anyone else in this piece of shit town. You need to wake up and smell the fruit loops Scotty boy," Lydia said from her perch on the table, inspecting the nails she had just filed.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean Lydia," Scott asked, his mind struggling to comprehend what she was saying.
"It's quite simple," she said, rising from her seat. "You've been walking around like a zombie since you found out Stiles is leaving, an opportunity for which he has worked very hard. Add in the fact that maybe, just maybe, you have realized what a colossal ass you have been … I think you're starting to realize something about yourself."
Scott stared at her dumbfounded, perplexed as to what she was trying to say. Lydia stared at him for a moment, disgust painting her features. She scoffed and headed towards the exit of the library, turning towards the lacrosse player before she disappeared from his view.
"You're going to realize too late," Lydia said. "He is going to be gone, and I doubt that he is ever going to come back."
Scott let loose a frustrated sigh. "Will you just tell me what you're trying to say," Scott plead.
Lydia stared at him for a moment longer, shaking her head. "I don't get what he sees in you. I really don't," she said, giving one more disappointed shake if her head.
With that, she left the library and Scott, who stood there, feeling like he was standing on the pieces of giant puzzle that he had no idea how to put together.
AN: So sorry for the delay. There has been a passing in the family and I finally just got around to writing again. Is there anyone out there still interested in this story? If so, read and review!
Also, I looking for someone to hook me up with an Ao3 invite, it would be much appreciated since I have plans for this story, but am nervous to go in that direction considering the site purges. Any help would be appreciated!