Lydia Martin personifies (eunoia) wrote in paradisolog, @ 2016-04-25 04:22:00 |
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Lydia felt selfish. She had been feeling selfish, but now she felt especially so, because even though Stiles had surprised her with a picnic that afternoon — which had been lovely and thoughtful and had, admittedly, earned him more than a few brownie points — her biggest complaint about her partner in this endeavor was that she didn't feel emotionally supported. Yes, he was with her holding back her hair for the first round of her morning sickness while he was awake. Yes, he stayed close with her at night so that she felt safe and not alone. But when it came to making her feel good inside, like she hadn't made a terrible decision by subjecting her body to all of these rapid changes that were making her miserable, it seemed like all he could ever do was ask her how to fix it. She didn't know. If she did, she wouldn't need him to do it. But Isaac had unexpectedly unleashed a torrent of complaints that she wasn't surprised that he had so much as she was surprised that it had actually gotten that bad. She hadn't realized just how much he'd been bottling up and the man had the patience of a saint, but every dam has to break at some point...and Isaac seemed to have hit that breaking point. He said that he'd taken Darcy's bed from her shelter, since she'd gone home and didn't need it anymore, and had moved it to her old shelter that Reese had built for her. He wanted to meet her there and for all the times that he'd jumped to be there for her when she needed to talk, it was absolutely her turn and she wasn't going to disappoint him. Stiles was sleeping so she was careful not to wake him getting up — something she had learned she was actually very good at if she wanted to vomit in privacy in the middle of the night — and she crept out of the shelter to keep from rousing him when he looked so peaceful sleeping. She was putting him through a lot, she knew that. For every ounce of frustration she had that she didn't think he was doing a good enough job from her perspective, he had to have the same amount of frustration that she was being a nightmare to put up with from his. She knew that it had to be just as exhausting emotionally to be on the receiving end of rant after rant, having to stay up late at night and listen to your friend throwing up for an hour and change every single night; it had to be exhausting for him to feel like he was caught in the middle of whatever stick was still up Scott's ass about her and the fact that she was stubborn and unwilling to forgive. She knew that Stiles was going through just as much turmoil because of her as she was going through because of him, so...the least she could do was let him sleep. She could resent him for not doing enough to help her through this pregnancy emotionally all she wanted, but she couldn't pretend that she wasn't victimizing him probably just as much in a different way. He could sleep. She could be quiet. She made her way through the jungle still close to camp until she made it to the old shelter and she let herself inside it, climbing onto the bed and sitting, legs folded beneath herself Indian style as she waited for Isaac. It was late enough at night that she thought her morning sickness was probably done for the night, so it would be okay that she was here; she wouldn't have to interrupt the conversation he clearly needed to have to get off his chest to get up and run outside. So, feeling content with the fact that she was feeling better physically — if exhausted — finally, she waited for Isaac to come. |