Chapter Text
Lydia is eight years old again and she is sitting on one of the hospital chairs, waiting for her mom. She hasn’t cried anymore since she saw her sister in the car like that. Or, not her sister, because that hadn’t been Dahlia anymore. She screamed, but she didn’t cry.
She’s not sure how long her mom has been gone for, but she’s hugging the police man’s jacket around herself because it feels like it’s been a long time and she’s just really cold and tired. Even if she doesn’t really wanna go home.
Across the waiting room, an eight year old Stiles sits in another chair, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders are trembling as he draws in one shaky breath after another and waits alone for his father to arrive.
His mom is dead. The echo of the shrill wailing machine is still ringing in his ears even though it’s been nearly an hour. This is the longest he hasn’t moved from one spot, possibly in his entire life. His mom is dead, and his dad isn’t here, and he is alone and he feels like he can’t breathe.
It doesn’t take her long to notice the boy sitting there. She doesn’t know if he’s crying or cold. But she can tell he’s trembling. She looks around the room for a moment then slowly makes her way over to where he is and slides onto the chair next to his.
“Are you cold?” she whispers, offering him a part of the massive and very heavy jacket that she has over her shoulders. They can both certainly fit in it and it’s better than her being alone, too. She doesn’t wanna be alone, she doesn’t like being alone. But she can’t tell her mom that, or her dad. She only told her sissy because Dahlia just told her she’d stay with her.
He sniffs a little, barely looking up even as he nods. He is cold. He’s freezing. Like all of the heat from his body is just gone, like he’s become hypothermic. He’s read all about hypothermia, and about PTSD, and trauma, and he knows that’s all this is. He’s not really hypothermic. He’s just in shock. He finds himself shifting closer to the girl who sat down beside him and he ducks his shoulders a little so she can cover him with the jacket.
It doesn’t dawn on him that the jacket belongs to his dad. He chews on his lower lip, trying to take slow deep breaths to calm his heart and the terror he’s feeling. “My mom died,” he whispers, voice barely audible.
Lydia carefully wraps the jacket over his shoulder after shifting a little closer to him so they can both fit in it. Then she sets her hands on her lap as she glances his way, then down at them. She knows he’s from her school, from her class, even. But she doesn’t remember talking to him before. And she doesn’t remember his name, so she doesn’t mention anything about that.
“My sister is gone, too,” she says quietly. She doesn’t feel like death is enough to describe the complete absence of Dahlia when she saw her. It’s not something she can explain, but she knows she’s gone, even if it doesn’t seem real. Mostly she remembers screaming. And her mom yelling at her. And then she was being pulled away and now she’s here.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, tears blurring his eyes. He leans closer to her, their shoulders bumping together lightly and he swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Where are your parents? Why aren’t they with you?” There’s hurt in his voice, a twinge of bitterness that he can’t quite keep out.
"My mom is here, somewhere, I'm supposed to wait here," she answers him quietly. And then she pauses when she notices how bad he sounds. But she knows she shouldn't say anything. People don't like talking about upsetting things, Lydia. It's what her dad always says. "Where's your dad?"
“Working,” he answers with a one shouldered shrug. “He’s always working anymore.” He rubs his sleeve over his eyes again, sniffling. For the first time since she’d sat down beside him, he looks over at her. She’s in his class. Lydia Martin. They’ve never really talked, because Stiles only talks to Scott and he’s never really been interested in girls. But this one is nice, and her hair is pretty and strawberry blonde and she has the deepest green eyes he’s ever seen and he’s pretty sure he loves her already.
"My dad is always working too." But she doesn't mind it, because she prefers it when he's not around. And then he's looking at her and it makes Lydia pause. Something about him and how upset he looks makes her feel like she should do something to make him feel better. So she'll just do what her sister always did for her. "I can stay here until he gets here." She'll tell her mom to wait if she has to.
He smiles for the first time in the last few days, since his mom’s health started deteriorating so quickly and the doctors had warned that “the end is near.” And though it’s a watery smile, it’s genuine. “Thanks, Lydia.”
As soon as Lydia wakes up, she reaches behind her automatically as she sits up. But all she finds is an empty bed. She looks around the room for just a second before she reaches for her phone on the bedside table, not even checking the time before she calls him.
She doesn’t know what that dream was, but she knows it was a memory, not a dream. She knows it was real.
He answers before the first ring finishes. He’s already pulling a clean shirt on over his head. “I know. I just -- had the dream, too.” He knows it’s why she’s calling. Instinctively knows it, the way he knows his own name.
“We had the same dream-- memory.” It’s not a question. Even if she doesn’t fully understand why things seem to be happening more and more often now. They’ve never been as obvious before. “It was real, wasn’t it?” And it was connected to both of their other memories. “I’m-- can I come over?” she asks before he can answer. Remembering eight year old Stiles looking so broken like that, she has to see him.
“Yeah. Yeah, when I woke up, it was like it happened yesterday.” His heart is beating quickly and he reaches out and grabs his keys off his nightstand. “I’m actually already on my way to you. I’ll be there in a few minutes okay?”
Lydia breathes out and nods even though he can’t see her. “Yeah. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Just be careful.” Driving over. Driving at all, especially now that the memory of her sister’s accident is so fresh for her.
“I will.” He hesitates for a second, like he wants to say something else then shakes his head a little, shaking himself out of the dazed state he’s in so he can drive safely to her house. “See you soon.”
As soon as they hang up, she makes her way down the stairs and out of the house. She waits for him for what feels like an eternity on the front steps, but when she hears the unmistakable jeep engine approaching, she’s on her feet again. And he doesn’t get a choice. He’s barely out of the jeep and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck. She wanted to do it in her dream, their memory. She can’t not do it now.
He closes his eyes and buries his face against her hair when she hugs him. He draws in a slow, deep breath and exhales as he pulls her closer, one hand winding in her hair. “It’s getting stronger,” he whispers, even though he knows she knows that already, because she’s Lydia, and she’s an actual genius and of course she knows.
“It is,” she whispers back at him, tightening her arms around him when he pulls her closer. She’s not even surprised when she starts feeling calmer almost instantly. There’s just an enormous wave of relief that he’s there and he’s okay and he feels it too. “I don’t understand why, but it is.”
Stiles finds himself relaxing just as quickly. He pulls away just enough that he can look at her, expression soft in the darkness of the night. He reaches up wordlessly and brushes some hair behind her ear, the back of his knuckles grazing lightly against her cheek as he meets her eyes, searching them intently and then leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.
She leans into his touch automatically and her chest tightens when he looks at her like that. It reminds her of the way his eight year old self looked at her that day at the hospital. It made her feel so much less alone. Like someone was actually paying attention to her. Her eyes are a little wider than usual as she stares back at him.
Do you...like Stiles? I mean, you know. Like him? Kira’s voice echoes in her head.
But as Stiles leans in and presses his lips to her forehead, Lydia just sighs softly, rubbing her hands over his shoulders as she remains silent for a long moment, until he pulls away.
“I’m so sorry you were there by yourself,” she whispers as she pulls back too, opening her eyes again to look at him.
“I wasn’t,” he whispers in return, a faint, sad smile touching his mouth. “I was with you.” He just hadn’t remembered. And apparently she hadn’t either.
Lydia smiles softly at that, watching him closely for a moment then reaching for his hand as she pulls away from him, ready to pull him back inside the house since it’s chilly out. “You didn’t remember any of that either, huh?”
“No. I didn’t.” His voice is quiet as he follows her into the house, interlacing their fingers together. He closes the door behind them and locks it. “Trauma does that sometimes. Blocks things out entirely.” And he’s pretty sure they were both pretty traumatized that night.
With a deep breath, she nods slightly and leads him up to her room in silence. Her mom isn’t likely to wake up, but considering she’s having her own memory of what happened to Tracy at the station repressed, Lydia doesn’t think she should hear about any of this. No matter how frustrating it is to have to keep lying to her mom when she asks things that are related to the supernatural. She just isn’t ready to hear about it, obviously.
Once inside the room, she reaches to close the door then turns to face him again, never letting go of his hand. “Your dad was with my sister that night.” And that’s why he wasn’t with him when his mom passed away.
“Yeah.” His voice drops even more and he takes a deep breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Yeah, I realized that when I woke up. It was uh -- the jacket. It was my dad’s.”
“I noticed that, too,” she whispers back to him, watching him closely. “Stiles, do you think that-- that’s when it started? I mean, this connection we seem to have always had. I don’t really remember talking to you before that day at all.”
He turns his head to look at her, and meets her eyes. “It would make sense. Lydia, there’s something else. Something you may not know,” he says hesitantly. He chews nervously on his lower lip, then gently tugs her over to the bed and sits down. “The accident that night. The girl in the car -- your sister -- tried to get my dad to leave. She said if he didn’t, he wasn’t going to get to tell his wife goodbye.”
She’s glad he’s sitting her down for this, because all of the sudden, she feels like her head is spinning. “You mean Dahlia warned him.” It’s not a question. And of course they both know what that means. Only a banshee would know something like that. And it does run in the family.
“And he didn’t believe her. Because he didn’t know that werewolves and banshees and the supernatural were real.” His voice is soft. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him because he can feel how off balance she feels.
Lydia leans into him instantly, taking a deep breath as she closes her eyes. “It makes sense,” she mutters quietly. “With my grandmother being one. For all I know my mother is one too, she just never had an injury that was bad enough to awaken it. I wonder if Dahlia knew…” That she was a banshee. That she was going to die that night, too.
He rests his head atop hers, tightening his arms around her a little. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want her to think about it, either. He doesn’t want to know if she’s going to be able to feel her own death before it actually happens and the idea terrifies of him in general.
She wraps her arms around him, shifting closer to him as she does. As she starts to relax a little, she just sighs deeply and turns her face against his neck a little more. “Thanks for telling me,” she whispers. Once again wondering if the doctors did something to her sister, but she knows Stiles doesn’t have an answer for that anymore than she does. Right now, she’s just glad he’s there.
* * *
Stiles makes his way down the hall and to his locker early the next morning. He’d spent the rest of the night at Lydia’s, even though he’s pretty sure neither of them had gone back to sleep. They’d just laid down together, talking quietly on occasion about nothing and everything, his arms wrapped around her and his face resting against the back of her neck. He’d relaxed physically even if mentally he was wide awake.
He wanted to talk to Scott. To his dad. And mostly right now he wanted to catch up with her again, because he’d taken off when her alarm clock went off, so he could go home and shower and change clothes and grab all his books from around his room.
He spotted a flash of strawberry blonde hair down the hall and he dodges a couple of people in his way on the way to her. “Hey.”
She’s already turning around to face him with a smile on her lips when he approaches her. Closing her locker, she sees the flash of plaid heading her way and relaxes a little. She just saw him a couple of hours ago, but she’s just been on edge about him getting hurt on the way to his house and then to school. It’s not like either of them actually got any sleep after that dream. Even if she feels oddly refreshed about at least managing to piece a few things together.
“Hey,” she greets, shifting her book in her arms. “Glad to see you managed to get here on time.” Probably because she gets up to get ready for school about an hour and half earlier than anyone else.
He smirks at her comment, gripping onto his backpack straps with both hands. “It’s not like I went home and went back to sleep,” he tells her. “You make it sound like me being late is a regular thing.” His voice is teasing. He’s relieved to see her too even though it’s only been a couple hours. He’d missed her, which he knows is ridiculous on some level, and probably not necessarily healthy, either. But he’s chalking it up to what they figured out a few hours ago and after all they’ve been through together, they’re bound to have a little bit of codependency going on.
“Hey, I didn’t say that. You’re usually on time.” And since he’s teasing, she pauses, pursing her lips together as she pretends to think about it. “Except that one time you found me crying in the parking lot and then said you would be back to talk to me and never showed up again.” Of course she adds a smirk to the end of that sentence. And on her part, she’s certainly not bothered, or even thinking about how this might turn into some weird codependency thing. She spent so much time feeling like he was distant, she’s absolutely okay with him being around a lot more. So much that she reaches over and rubs her hand over his arm without even thinking about it.
His mouth opens in a mock offended way. “Hey now, I can’t help that I had to hold Derek’s heavy ass up in a pool for two hours. I mean, trust me, I thought about letting him drown.” He glances down to where her hand is rubbing his arm, trying to ignore the flicker of electricity he feels at the touch.
While she notices him looking down at her hand, she also notices that he doesn’t pull his arm away, so she just squeezes it gently and lets her hand lay there. She’s comfortable, it’s comforting, she has no reason to pull away if he doesn’t seem bothered by it. “Excuses. Just accept that you’re never living this down.” And maybe her teasing tone has a hint of flirting to it. Maybe. And she doesn’t think she’s ever flirted with him before, but then, she’s not sure that is what this is, either.
He lifts his gaze to hers, eyes dancing with amusement when she teases him back. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept it. I suppose.” And he thinks she might actually be flirting with him, and it makes his heart beat a little faster than usual, and he’s unable to keep the grin off his face. “Walk you to AP Bio?”
Lydia can’t help but grin softly at him, at the look on his face. He actually looks more relaxed than she’s seen him in a while -- not counting mornings when they wake up together -- and it’s nice to see him looking like that. So she just nods her agreement. “Yeah.” She drops her hand from his arm and pulls the strap of her purse further over her shoulder. “And meet you up after so we can talk to Scott?” And Kira. She doesn’t really trust Theo anymore than Stiles does. And he seems to always be around Malia, but bringing her up might make things awkward, so she just leaves it at Scott.
“Yeah, that sounds good to me.” He rests his hand at the small of her back to guide her through the crowd of students as they head down the hall toward her biology classroom. For the moment at least, all thoughts of Dread Doctors and the Desert Wolf and murder by self defense are long gone from his head. There’s just the two of them and she’s smiling in a way he hasn’t seen her smile in a long time now and he’s missed it so much.
She leans into his touch and smiles his way as they walk down the hall. She knows they’ll have to talk about what they’re going to tell Scott and Kira, and maybe the others eventually. But that can wait until they’re done with this class. And once they’re at her class, she pushes the door open, not even glancing through the small window to see if someone is inside as she glances at Stiles. “I’ll see you--” But then she pauses.
Before she even looks, she can hear the kissing noises. And maybe a moan? Lydia frowns, turning to look at the desk in the very back of the room and stills when she sees who it is.
She stills so suddenly that he bumps right into her and then reaches out to steady her with his hands on her shoulders. When he sees why she stopped, he freezes too, staring in disbelief at Malia and Theo, making out in the back of the biology room. “Wow.” His voice is flat.
Lydia’s eyes narrow instantly as they finally do break their kiss. She doesn’t even bother pretending that she’s surprised or anything other than angry with both of them. Do they seriously expect them to believe that neither one of them heard someone coming into the room? That Malia of all people didn’t pick up on Stiles’ scent?
But she doesn’t care what they have to say, or what bullshit excuse they’re going to offer. She just grabs Stiles’ hand and starts back out the door. “C’mon.”
Stiles’ gaze locks on Theo for a moment, and his expression is stony. Cold. He lets Lydia pull him out of the classroom even as he sees that Malia is gearing up to say something. “Well I guess that explains a lot,” he mumbles as she tugs him into the hallway.
With werewolf hearing, though, the hallway is hardly good enough for her. She pulls him down toward the opposite end of it and into the boys locker room. The doors are heavier there and she knows it should be completely empty this early in the morning. “Are you okay?” she asks as she turns to face him.
“Aside from the urge to wolfsbane bomb the newest werewolf? I’m fine.” His jaw is tense, but there’s no other visible sign that he’s upset.
She can’t really blame him for being angry. For the way his jaw clenches. And for now, for his sake, she’s pushing away the part of her that’s wondering if he’s also jealous. She knows he probably is, they just broke up, after all. “He has to have heard us coming in, Stiles.” Both of them have to have heard them. It just feels too much like a set up.
“I have a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted,” he admits, meeting her eyes. He hears footsteps approaching the door, and he shifts, moving to stand just slightly in front of Lydia. Maybe Theo had heard them coming, but he has a feeling Malia didn’t. She looked upset.
He glances back at Lydia, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Continue this conversation later?” His voice is quiet even though Malia has super hearing, and Theo probably isn’t too far off. “Somewhere in private.”
Pursing her lips together, Lydia looks at him for a long moment then nods slightly. “Are you sure you wanna stay?” Because if this was her after Jackson, she’d be running to the bathroom to cry.
Wanting to stay is a serious over exaggeration of the situation, he thinks. He meets her eyes and nods slightly. It’s not like he can avoid Malia forever. She’s part of the pack. And he doesn’t want anything to happen to her.
Lydia holds his gaze and nods slightly, lifting a hand to cup his face, trying to make sure he really is as okay as he can be. “I’ll see you right after class.”
He leans into her touch instinctively and nods, too. “See you soon,” he agrees, barely resisting the urge to turn his head and kiss the palm of her hand. The thought startles him a little and he swallows hard.
With a deep breath, she looks at him for a moment longer, letting her hand drop to his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze before she lets go of him completely and heads out of the locker room, somehow completely missing Malia standing just a few steps away down the corridor. Which is probably a good thing.
As soon as she’s on her way back toward her class, her heels start clicking harder against the floor, louder. If she could, she’d yell at Theo and Malia both. And she does consider saying something to Theo, but the teacher is already in there this time, and there’s no sign of Malia. So she throws a glare his way before she takes her seat.
It’s one of her Lydia Martin, looks most definitely can kill glares, though. So she’s not surprised when she finds both Scott and Kira staring at her with identical, puzzled looks. Sighing, she just shakes her head at them and turns her attention to the front of the class.
Moments later her phone vibrates with a message from Scott.
What’s wrong?
Lydia looks down at her phone and takes a deep breath. At least Theo can’t overhear her texts. And hey, she can torture him some since he has absolutely no idea what she’s saying. So she makes a point of glancing at Scott, then back toward Theo before reaching for her phone and typing.
Theo is what’s wrong. And Malia, but for now, she’s keeping that to herself. Only out of respect for Stiles. Still, she continues with her texts.
I walked into the classroom and he was making out with Malia in the back. Stiles was with me. Because of course she’s going to tell Scott the truth.
It takes Scott a moment to respond, and there’s a shocked expression on his face before he turns his head to look at Theo and then at Lydia.
Is he okay?
This time, she doesn’t even bother looking at Theo. After Scott did she knows he’ll pick up on the fact that she told him.
As okay as he can be, I guess. I’ll check on him after class.
So will I. His jaw tightens a little and he glances at Kira before scooting his phone to her so she can see what Lydia had to say. Her eyes widen a little when she reads the messages and she looks over at Lydia, shocked.
Lydia shrugs a shoulder at the look on Kira’s face and nods. Then she sends them one more message: Stiles doesn’t wanna talk about it here so they don’t overhear us. We can meet at my house.
After school. Scott nods a little, looking stony-faced when he glances at her again.
She glances over at Scott and Kira one more time before focusing back on the class. For a moment, anyway, and then, as she has an idea, she picks up her phone again and this time, sends Stiles a text. She’s assuming he’s still pretty upset -- no, she’s fairly sure she can actually feel how he’s doing. So she figures a nice distraction will help.
Do you wanna go swimming today after school? Scott and Kira are coming over too.
It’s a few minutes later before he responds. Sure. He doesn’t tell her he blew off class in lieu of talking to his ex-girlfriend because he assumes she’s figured that out. Not that the talk really went anywhere, aside from Malia apologizing and looking upset and asking him why he was spending so much time with Lydia suddenly. He’d told her to go to class and he’d headed out to the parking lot to sit in his jeep for the time being. It isn’t like he’d be able to focus right now anyway.
The one word reply makes her stomach drop. She really wants nothing more than to go find him and somehow figure out a way to make him feel better. Somehow. But she knows it’s better to wait for the class to end. She only has about half an hour to go now. You’re still at the school, right?
His head is leaning against his hand, propped up on the driver’s side window. He lets out a slow breath, closing his eyes after her text. As great as his mood had been earlier, now he just kind of wants to go home and crawl under his covers. To hide the way he had the day after he’d killed Donovan. The way he had after the nogitsune. He takes another moment and then responds to her text. Yeah. I’m in my jeep. I’m okay. Just didn’t want to go to class.
I’ll meet you there in a little bit. Because she knows he’s telling her the truth, at least. And it will be easier on him if he doesn’t have to walk back into the school and accidently run into Malia or Theo. Assuming he hasn’t already. And she has the feeling he has.
***
A little over thirty minutes later, Stiles looks up from where he’s been staring blankly out the windshield of his jeep and spots Lydia heading toward him. He smiles a little despite everything that’s happened since they got to school, and he unlocks the door so she can climb in the passenger seat.
She smiles back at him when she sees him smiling at her. She knows he should have one more class now, but she’ll gladly just take him out of here. She doubts he’ll be able to pay attention, anyway. “Hey,” she greets as she carefully climbs into the car, making sure her dress stays in place as she does. “Do you wanna just go?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even hesitate, reaching out and starting the engine and putting it into gear. He glances at her sideways and chews his lower lip. “How was Bio?”
“It was fine,” she answers, laying her purse on her lap as she shifts on her seat so she’s looking at him. “Scott and Kira are gonna stop by their houses after school to change and then they’re coming over. I-- texted Scott what happened.”
If he’s surprised, it doesn’t show on his face. He purses his lips together and nods, focusing ahead, on the road. He’s not entirely sure he wants to know Scott’s reaction. He feels her gaze on him and he wants to look at her again. “I ran into Malia right after you headed to class.”
Lydia sighs softly at that. She knew she should have just stayed with him and dragged him out to the parking lot. Of course Malia was going to go after him. “What happened?” she asks, ignoring how tight her stomach suddenly feels. She wants to protect Stiles, to make sure he’s not getting even more hurt. But she knows there’s also a hint of jealousy there. Because she’s fairly sure this is the first time they talked to each other since the break up and his reaction to this could mean a lot of things.
He’s silent for a moment. “It’s been going on for awhile.” His voice is devoid of emotion. “She swears it was just kissing.” A humorless smile touches his mouth and then he shrugs a shoulder. “I’m sure this is all part of his ultimate plan too.” Whatever that happens to be.
“For a while?” she echoes. They haven’t been broken up for that long, but it definitely explains why Malia seemed to take it as well as she did. If she was already seeing Theo. Lydia reaches over and places her hand on his arm. “Yeah, it definitely felt like a set up, but-- wouldn’t Malia be able to smell that on him? If he was playing her?”
He glances at her sideways and arches his eyebrows. “Not if she didn’t want to know what it meant.” They’d been together for months before she’d ever even picked up on the fact that he was almost constantly anxious. “And not if he’s as good at this as I think he is.”
“So you think we need to help her?” She’s pretty sure that’s what he means, and she knows they’ll probably have to do it, even if she doesn’t think Malia is completely innocent in all of this. She seems to pick up on a lot pretty quickly. When it interests her. And Theo definitely seems to interest her.
He exhales, looking uncertain for the briefest of moments. “Yeah. I think he has her snowed.” Even if part of her wanted to be snowed. A flare of bitterness surges through him and his jaw tightens a little before relaxing again. “We need to figure out what the hell he’s up to before things get even worse.”
“We’ll have Scott talk to her, then.” It’s not so much a suggestion as an affirmation. Stiles doesn’t need to be talking to her now, not about this, not when he’s obviously this upset. “And you and I will look into Theo some more.” Because keeping busy is also obviously very important. And she just knows Stiles too well to think she can keep him out of the investigating portion of this plan.
“Do you think Scott believes Theo’s not who he says he is?” His voice is hushed as he stares out the windshield.
“I don’t think he’s as certain as the rest of us, but I think he’s getting there,” she says sincerely. She saw the way Scott looked when she told him what they saw this morning. And while Malia may have her excuses, Theo doesn’t.
His shoulders drop a little. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It always takes him longer to get to this person is clearly evil than me.”
“We need that,” she says quietly, shrugging a shoulder. “Let’s be honest, Stiles. If it was up to the two of us, we’d never trust anyone new. Ever.” For as much as she’s willing to help people, she definitely doesn’t trust them. She doesn’t trust Jordan. Or Malia. Obviously not Theo either. And even Kira took a while and saving Stiles’ life for her to grow on her.
“I know. I know.” He sounds frustrated, and he is, but not with Lydia. Not even with Scott, really. “I mean I can’t even be mad at him about it, and that’s the thing. I’m glad he’s not like us.” His voice is hushed. “I’m glad he hasn’t lost all of his optimism about other people.” He doesn’t know how Scott’s managed to hang onto it, but he knows he’d do just about anything to make sure it doesn’t change. “I’m just --” His voice trails off and he shakes his head.
“You’re his best friend and you wish he’d take your word for it.” This is more of a suggestion than an affirmation, but she’s fairly sure it’s the truth. It’s more about Scott trusting him than Scott not trusting Theo.
“I know I don’t always get it right. But I called it with Kate Argent, and I called it with Matt, and I called it when the whole thing with the Nogitsune first started.” His fingers grip just a little more tightly onto the steering wheel. “So yeah, I guess I wish he’d trust me a little more than he trusts people he barely knows.”
Lydia purses her lips together. She feels like this is a conversation he should be having with Scott, not with her. Getting things out in the open. But she supposes she should be happy that he’s talking at all. “I don’t think that’s what this is about, Stiles. I think he does believe you. I think he does trust your instincts to a point. But--” She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s Scott. And he has to give everyone a chance, at the very least. Even if it turns out he’s wrong, he has to know he tried to help that person first.”
He gives a short nod, falling silent because he knows she’s right. He’s taking it too personally, the way he has with everything since the nogitsune. His nerves are frayed again and his knuckles are clenched so tightly on the wheel that they’ve turned an even paler shade of white. “We’re not gonna make it out of this town for college,” he mumbles.
As he turns onto her street, she’s glad they’re almost there. With the way he’s working himself up right now, she doesn’t want him driving anymore. If they were further away, she’d make him pull over. As it is, she’ll just make sure he’s not too deep in his own head for the last few minutes. “Why are you saying that?”
“What are the chances?” he whispers, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “We get a break and then something else happens. We keep -- losing people.” And sure they’d acquired new people, too, but it isn’t the same. It’s never the same. “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Because it’s going to. It’s only a matter of time.
Pursing her lips together, Lydia looks away and considers her words carefully for a moment. She made the choice to not graduate early, to stay in school and try to bump her GPA even more because she couldn’t bring herself not to. She couldn’t just leave them, she couldn’t lose them, too. Every now and then, the fact that Allison isn’t going to be there for their senior prom, for graduation, for their whole college experience hits her hard, and she feels like it’s a reminder that she made the right decision not to leave on her own.
Right now, she knows Stiles must be talking mostly about losing Malia. He’s not thinking about Allison, or Aiden, or anyone else they lost. He’s talking about break ups and long distance friendships and she doesn’t wanna take away the focus, because again, it’s important that he’s talking. And he’s obviously very upset about this.
“We still have each other, Stiles.” And she means them and Scott and Kira. “We can make your vision work.” And she needs it to work as much as he does. She thinks they all do. Because ending up in opposite sides of the country just sounds almost as painful as actually losing another member of the pack.
He forces himself to take a slow, deep breath because the last thing he wants to do is crash the jeep -- especially when Lydia’s there with him. His body is fraught with tension as ideas spin in his head about how and why they’re all likely to be dead before they actually reach graduation. “I swear to god if vampires show up next, I’m packing your stuff, my stuff, my dad’s stuff, and Scott’s stuff and we’re moving to Los Angeles immediately. Fuck it, I’m done. I’m out. That’s where I’m drawing the metaphorical line in the sand with all this crap.”
In theory, they’re moving anyway. But she doesn’t point that out. He’s tense, his anxiety is through the roof, and he’s upset. Not to mention, angry. So she just reaches out and places a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. “Okay, no vampires. Just take a deep breath, Stiles.”
He does as she instructs, feeling the warmth of her hand even through his two layers of clothes. Or maybe he’s just imagining he can feel it. He goes back to chewing on his lower lip. “I can’t lose you guys,” he says after a moment, staring straight ahead and blinking rapidly as his eyes begin to feel too warm. He pulls his jeep into her driveway.
Her face falls and she shakes her head, her own eyes tearing up when she notices his tears even though he’s not looking at her. She adds a little more pressure as she rubs her hand over his back and takes a deep breath. “I can’t lose you guys either, Stiles.” That’s why most of the time she’s not in school, she’s trying to find a way to improve herself. The accuracy of her powers, and now the fighting. So she can protect them if it comes down to it. “We’ll find a way.”
He turns his head to look at her, meeting her eyes for a moment and then leaning over and pulling her into a hug. “Together, right?”
“Yes,” she whispers to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and pulling him closer. “We have this tether, this connection. We’re sticking together, Stiles.” Considering how much better they feel when they’re with each other, she can’t even imagine being far away now.
He buries his face against her hair, closing his eyes tightly as she hugs him back. They have a connection that just a day ago he assumed was mostly just from the ritual, and now they know it started longer ago than that. It had started the night they’d each lost one of the most important people in their lives.
And they weren’t going to do anything to break it if either of them got a say in it.