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Life is good.
Lydia is happy. Truly happy. What started as an ordinary summer day is turning out to be quite extraordinary. Stiles is beside her, and they are immersed in color, shades of blue from sky to sapphire that refract rippling patterns of light like a mirrorball. She observes his image in the concave panel of glass that separates them from another world. His expression is relaxed and wonderstruck, lips slightly agape, eyes following the path of a bottlenose dolphin as it circles a pastel-hued reef. He is clearly captivated by what he sees, but his attention never fully leaves her, pinky frequently grazing hers in the most delicate, butterfly-inducing way.
She blindly locates his palm, wrapping her fingers around its warmth and giving it an affectionate squeeze.
He squeezes back, thumb stroking her knuckles, smile blossoming when he says, “I’ve wanted to come here with you for the longest time.”
She looks over her shoulder, eager to have her eyes focused on him, rather than his reflection. That’s when she notices his cheek, the subtle hint of blush which didn’t translate onto the aquarium glass. “Really?”
He nods, flattening the hand that isn’t linked to hers against the glass enclosure, beckoning the dolphin closer. The curious youngster responds, bumping the glass a few times with its beak before playfully somersaulting and trying again.
“Remember that class trip, back in fourth or fifth grade?”
“The one where Jared Arnold got sick all over Mr. Winters when he saw the marine biologist feeding the orcas?” she recalls.
“Yup,” he chuckles, “that’s the one. But I uh… I remember that field trip for another reason.”
“What’s that?”
He turns towards her now, lashes rapidly fluttering. “The hour I spent in the souvenir shop picking out a gift for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, you,” he asserts, gently swiping an errant strand of hair away from her face.
He is looking at her like it should have been obvious, and her stomach lurches with uncertainty. She couldn’t have forgotten such a thing. Could she?
“But I don’t remember any gift.”
“Yeah well, I never actually worked up the nerve to give it to you. But I always had this plan... I was gonna come back here with you someday and give it to you then.”
Her heart swells and races while her mind desperately tries to catch up, to articulate an answer that is worthy of him. “Stiles, that’s so…”
“Weird?” he cringes, briefly glancing at his sneakers.
“I was going to say incredibly romantic.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, okay,” he shrugs, flashing her a teasing smirk. “Guess that means you don’t want to see it.”
“Stiles…” she groans, tugging on his hand. “Of course I want to see it.”
He leans in to kiss her cheek, but she stops him, significance of what he is telling her truly sinking in. “Wait a minute... You kept it? All this time?”
“Mm-hm,” he hums against her skin, successful in his second attempt at the kiss.
“And even though we didn’t plan on coming here today…”
“I’ve sorta been carrying it around with me since I got back, waiting for the right time to give it to you, and we’re here now so… No time like the present, right?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a faded, green cord with a charm dangling at the center of it, and holds it out to her.
She watches it swing between their rib cages like a pendulum, then reaches out to catch it. It’s a seashell, a bit rough around the edges and chipped in a few places, but the shape undoubtedly resembles a heart.
“Sorry, it’s a little banged up.”
“Don’t be. It’s beautiful,” she assures him, gaze flicking between the jewel in her hand and the ones in his eyes.
He moves closer, and everything else blends into a backdrop of indistinct noise and color.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, carefully slipping the necklace over her head. “Being with you is the most beautiful thing in my life.”
He’s emotional. She can hear it in the quiver that rocks his voice, feel it in the way his hand trembles when it slides around her waist. She tilts the bill of his baseball cap upwards, drawing back the shadow that was dimming the shine in his eyes.
“I love you,” she tells him in a whisper.
It’s not the first time she’s said it. But it is the first time she’s said it in public.
“I love you,” she repeats, a bit louder, not caring if everyone within earshot can hear it.
In fact, she hopes they do. She loves Stiles. This magnificent boy with a heart of pure gold who, for eight years, saved a gift shop trinket on a piece of green string in the hope that someday, he could give it to her.
It feels like everything has led them to this moment. Every storm and every surge, every shift in the current or ebb of the tide… It all led them back to this place where some part of Stiles has always been waiting to give Lydia his heart, and an equal part of her has always been waiting to accept it.
Rising to the tips of her toes, she mouths one more I love you, lips dovetailed with his this time, right before she kisses him.
She kisses him with the softness and sweetness he deserves. She kisses him in the clear blue of a spectacular underwater universe. She kisses the boy who made the sun come out when he came back to her, and she is never letting go of him again.