Author's Note: Hello. Yep, as you can probably tell from the description, I've got another Stiles twin Teen Wolf fic here for you. Well, what can I say on the topic beyond sorry for being so cliche? It's genuinely a good premise. I'm happy with it. So, anyway, seriously, this fic is an important one for me because my OC in this fic is very much inspired by myself. Yes, I am the infamous half deaf insomniac with anxiety issues and all the other crap. Her character isn't exactly like me, but she's close enough to a self insert. Also, this will not faithfully follow the story of the TV series, and dialogue and occurrences will be similar but not exact. Just a disclosure. The next chapter will hopefully be done soon, so I hope this introductory chapter will be enough to tide you over until the next one's up. Enjoy.

The struggle of being a half deaf insomniac with various anxiety and mood related issues in high school was not the increasing rate at which it was getting harder and harder to hear people in the busier areas of the school (which basically meant everywhere), nor was it the constantly building, impossible work load that piled on and on until it was very much a metaphorical and literal mountain. No, the struggle was that because the problems weren't visible - they weren't a cast for a broken leg or a pair of crutches - they just weren't taken seriously, or rather, into account at all. Conveniently, both teachers and fellow students alike seemed to just forget that, yes, Milena Stilinski was in fact deaf in her right ear and hearing impaired in her other - and that, yes, she was somewhat socially anxious and barely ever managed to get a good night's sleep because she was also an insomniac. There were no visible reminders, and so it was easy to forget and overlook. That was the struggle. And with a twin who had pretty severe ADHD and various hyperactive tendencies, it was near impossible to simply exist and take things slow and mellow, and to relax. It was even harder to get by with all of these factors when the girl of Milena's dreams was present in the vast majority of her classes. That was just the cherry on the cake.

Milena didn't like to lend too much of her time towards thinking about her struggle with existence, but her brother was late for school again, and as he was her ride... she didn't have much choice in waiting.

"Stiles!" She called out again, way too tired to actually yell. She'd managed a grand total of four hours of sleep last night. A triumph, in her books, but still not enough to allow her to feel energised. There was a brief, audible altercation upstairs, which Milena was sure was the sound of her brother stumbling over the piles and piles of miscellaneous rubbish strewn across his room, and then... Stiles appeared at the top of the stairs, and promptly fell down the stairs as well. It said a lot about the amount of noise he was making if Milena could hear him, 'cause... you know... she was half deaf. "Man..." she had no response to her brother's failings other than the default, which was to be exasperated.

"No, look. Don't do that. Listen-" Stiles dashed about the kitchen, collecting up his school books and throwing them into his bag. "You are the one person in life who is obligated in not judging me." He ventured towards the cupboards, rifling around for a poptart, but then Milena cleared her throat and he spotted the poptart she had already toasted for him waiting for him on a plate over by the toaster. "So, Lena, come on. Do your job. Support me, please. I need it. I'm a gangly, pale bag of bones and skin and unadulterated sarcasm, with dwindling social skills and even less social status. As my very own twin sister - the one who entered the world with me - you have to have my back."

"I think..." she sighed, climbing dutifully into the passenger side of the beloved blue Jeep, and buckled herself in. "I really think you're both overthinking and over exaggerating. You forget that I have sixteen years of watching you fall over under my belt, Stiles. There's only so long I can maintain the 'oh dear what an unfortunate accident' approach and with four hours of sleep, I'm even less capable of keeping my amusement under wraps."

Stiles was fiddling around with his seat, adjusting the... height and closeness to the wheel, and... whatnot. Eventually, he seemed to be happy with things, and started up the engine. That also took a few tries, but Milena was well aware that nothing in life was perfect, and so she waited with the utmost grace and patience. She was good at that - patience. One had to be, with Stiles Stilinski for a twin brother. Speaking of which...

"Four whole hours, huh? Jesus, Lena, you'd think you were a high schooler or some shit. What could you possibly have to be stressed out about? I don't get it."

Milena stretched out in the passenger seat, yawning. She offered Stiles a tired smile. She always appreciated his ironic sarcasm. He was a master of his craft. "You get me," she placed a hand to her chest, over her heart, nodding sincerely. The drive to school was a relatively short one, and the two of them weren't well known for their tardiness and general positive attitude towards education.

"If it's any consolation, sis, I got even less sleep than you did." Stiles yawned on cue, not bothering to hide it with a hand. It was fair enough. He was driving. In her tired state, it took Milena a few seconds longer than usual to process the information she had just received, but when she did she frowned. Less than she had? Sure, she recalled the obnoxiously loud sound of Stiles climbing both out and later in to his room through his window, and she remembered noting that the time between had been fairly substantial, but she had assumed he'd managed to sleep before and after, passing out in his usual spectacular and instantaneous fashion. It hadn't occurred to her that he may not have gone back to sleep when he got home.

"What the hell did you do?" Milena demanded, a little more awake now with her indignation. Stiles was never up to any good. Well, he was in intentions, but he also held not only a rocky idea of what was fun and sometimes even moral, but had a loose respect for the law. It could not be assumed, under any circumstances, that he had gone out for some good, clean fun last night. Milena narrowed her eyes and grabbed her brother's arm before he managed to exit the vehicle, having parked. As previously mentioned, neither of them cared much for tardiness. The Jeep remained parked in the lot. They'd get out when they were ready. "Stiles, what did you do?"

His eyes were as wide and deliberately unassuming as he could make them, obviously aiming for that jackpot puppy dog look that would soften her approach, but Milena was not only sleep deprived but crabby, and was in no mood for her brother's illegal exploits. Not when their Dad was as tired and worn out as he was. Not when it was so easy for Stiles to get caught.

"I... did... nothing...?" Stiles tried, his voice rising in pitch as he went on, phrasing it like a question.

"I'll rephrase that. What did you and Scott do?"

"We... may... have... goneoutintothewoodslookingforadeadbodythatIoverheardthecopstalkingaboutonthepolicechannelthatIinterceptedonmyradiointerceptor."

Milena inhaled and then exhaled in a very visceral manner. Good lord. Holy shit. Hooooly shit. This boy would be the death of her. "What else?" She sighed, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Don't freak out when you hear this, 'cause I know you love Scott like a brother." He paused, eyeing her, waiting for her to confirm that she was preparing herself not to freak out. Milena removed her hand and stared back at him, unrelenting. Stiles snapped his fingers, pursing his lips and nodding along as if he'd expected such a reaction. To be fair, he most likely had. "Okay. Right. Well. Scott got bit, a little bit. Not much. Not deep. Barely even... a scratch, really. He's fine. Barely bled, or anything. Really, if you think about it, he's, uh, better off now, because-"

"Mieczysław." She monotoned, trying to disregard the way he winced at hearing his full name. "Did you get Scott to a hospital? Or even to Melissa? Did you get him proper medical attention?"

"Well... yeah, but in a truer, much realer sense... no. Not at all." He preempted Milena's reaction, and held his hands up in front of him, mouth moving at 100 miles an hour to get the words out to excuse himself with. "But! But... he's totally fine. Absolutely. I promise. He knows all the stuff. His mum's a nurse, remember? He's got it handled. He's good. He's fine. Don't worry about him."

"And you? Nothing got you? Are you okay?" She began to harrass her twin, checking him over for injuries and bruises and hidden bites. He was seemingly unharmed, batting at her hands as she tried to examine him.

"Hey! No! Stop! Fuck! I'm fine! I'm okay. Chill out. I'm all good. Nothing got me, except maybe a realisation that I should really do more cardio."

"You're not funny. You're lame, and dumb, and irresponsible." She unclipped her seatbelt, and began to clamber out of the Jeep.

"Anything else you wanna insult me with?"

"Yeah. You also stink. You smell bad."

Stiles very visibly panicked, briefly, and began to hop about, for some reason, as he tried to smell his armpits. "Really?"

"No." Milena led the way, and waited for him to be level and in stride next to her before she graced him with a smile and reassured him that, no, he did not actually smell bad. Now that the high school was looming the twins fell into a silence that was only uneasy because they both knew what they were about to face. Milena let the back of her hand nudge her brother's, her little finger curling briefly around his for a moment as they walked. It was the most comfort he would allow her to offer him, in public. She knew his anxiety was much worse than hers was, and that even though his insomnia was mostly self inflicted, it still affected him. What a pair they were, the problem addled Stilinski twins. The nearer and nearer they got to the dreaded building, the higher she could feel her heart rate go. Thankfully, a blessed distraction in the form of Scott McCall arrived, and he fell into step on Stiles' left side. It was a walking format they had to maintain at all times. Milena always walked on the right, Stiles walked on her left, and Scott took up position on his left. It was essential purely because that was the only way Milena could walk with them and hear the both of them comfortably. Otherwise, there were a lot of 'what?'s and 'huh?'s and 'what did you say?'s.

Immediately, Stiles turned and began walking backwards, his eyes lighting up with the prospect of seeing something that had the potential of being both bloody and gruesome. "So? Come on, let's see this thing."

Scott stopped walking. Stiles stopped walking. Milena also stopped walking. Scott lifted his shirt, and revealed a bandage. Taking his time, and ignoring Stiles' impatient bobbing about, he peeled back the bandage to reveal... a nicely healing bite mark. Oh. That wasn't as bad as Stiles made it out to be.

"Gnarly," she commented sarcastically with an ironic surfer's rock and roll gesture. That consisted of her basically making the traditional rock and roll gesture and just... wiggling her hand about a little bit.

"Not definite, but I'm pretty sure I got bit by a wolf," Scott commented, watching as Stiles prodded tentatively at the wound. Stiles scoffed, loudly, and gave an erratic shake to his head.

"No way."

"I heard a wolf howl."

"No, you didn't."

"I did."

Milena decided to intercept, then. "Maybe... you heard... a really enthusiastic... bird?" The boys gave her a simultaneous look, and they all set off walking again. Moments later, they were at the doors, and though they all knew it was the veritable point of no return, none of them commented on it. It was a silent agreement. A wordless oath of comradeship in this hellhole of an establishment. "Brief subject change," Milena spoke up once again to permeate the silence, "but Lydia Martin is walking this way."

Immediately, as was her brother's standard reaction, the mention of the strawberry blonde angel of darkness of herself sent a tense excitement running through Stiles' frame, both electrifying and setting him on fire with merely the concept of her being in his presence. Milena liked girls. She did. She had a crush on a girl. But that girl was not Lydia Martin, and considering the attitude Lydia directed towards Stiles' general existence, it wasn't unreasonable for Milena to be at a complete loss as to why her brother still loved the girl so much. From what she could tell, and had known for a long time, having been Stiles' number one point of discussion and venting when it came to Lydia - Milena knew that her brother's feelings for Lydia were sincere, genuine and not just based on aesthetics. She could appreciate that, sure, but she did not appreciate the way Lydia treated her twin. And that, she figured, was more than reasonable. It was possible she was biased, or over protective. But it was hard to stand by and watch Stiles be so hopelessly head over heels and worshipful of a girl who seemed to genuinely have no idea that he even existed. He wasn't even a presence on her disdainful radar. Regardless, as long as Stiles was happy with his infatuation, she would support him. As long as he wasn't actively being hurt, she would let things proceed as they may. She did register Stiles' attempt to say hello to Lydia, but that was as fruitful an endeavour as could be expected, and her brother was left, once again, in the proverbial dust. He was visibly disheartened, but there was no time to comfort him, as the bell for first class had decided to ring at that exact moment. Instead, she settled for patting his shoulder. He was more than used to Lydia's cold shoulder, anyway.

The class progressed with it's usual brain dead fervour, the teacher droning on and on at the front. Chalk scraped across the board, and the clock ticked ominously, but still not fast enough to be satisfying. Milena had dedicated extensive amounts of time staring at clocks. She had come to accept that no amount of making eye contact with time would make it go faster. It was a tragedy, but it was what it was. She was distracted effectively enough by her twin's restless inability to sit still beside her. He scratched at his head, he tapped his pen, he clicked his pen, he bounced his leg, he fiddled with his books and drummed on his desk. He did anything but sit still, and it was exhausting. The teacher was one of the ones who liked to forget that she was half deaf, and so Milena didn't find it important to put effort into remembering his name. In fact, she preferred to just call him 'the teacher' and take further credence away from him being an actual human being. The man himself was making an announcement just then on the subject of the very dead body Stiles and Scott had gone out looking for last night. The one Scott had gotten bitten looking for. Milena wasn't... actually paying attention, though. It was very, very difficult for her to ever pay attention in that class. Mainly because Erica Reyes was also in that class. She wasn't within her line of sight. Not today. She sat behind her, but it was impossible for Milena not to be extremely acutely aware that Erica was back there, and could see her. It affected her in so many ways. She could never relax. She was tense throughout the entirety of every lesson, sat almost rigid in her chair, her knees weak even though she was sat down. Her stomach was always in knots and her back felt like it was the target for about a million archers. She felt vulnerable. Erica Reyes had that effect on her. It was ridiculous, but it was also a strangely pleasant, giddy sort of feeling. It kept her attracted, quietly admiring. But it also kept her silent, too shy to actually engage in direct conversation. She could barely say hi without breaking a sweat. Milena knew it must have looked like she actually hated Erica, the way she avoided her, but being as anxious as she was, there wasn't much she could do to dissuade such an impression.

She was too distracted by both Stiles and Erica to notice how tensed up Scott was. She was too caught up within her own mind to recognise the uncharacteristic way he was twitching about in his seat, focusing on something outside, gazing at it so fixatedly he almost looked terrified. Nobody noticed, in fact. Not even Stiles. But there was no time for it, anyway, as the new girl was then introduced to the class. Allison Argent. She was beautiful. Dark, lustrous hair, creamy complexion, rosy lips and cheekbones that could quite honestly put Greek Gods to shame. There was also this natural friendliness to her, an aura of not only calm but also light, and that reflected keenly in her eyes. She was a welcome sight to the dull classroom, and if the way dozens of boys and girls alike suddenly straightened up in their seats, she was going to be a sensationally popular girl, too.

Looking at her, Milena could see how anyone could fall in love with this girl. Obviously, she was beautifully, and in an effortless way, too, but she was also... comfortable, somehow. She hadn't even spoken yet. It was bizarre, but Milena just knew that without even knowing the girl. It was wrong to subject her to this ideal without making the effort to get to know her, first, because assumptions were dangerous, but... still, Milena couldn't help her first impression.

She watched in astonishment as Allison accepted a pen from Scott. Melina had seen him grab the pen from his bag before Allison had even entered the room. She'd thought it was odd, because Scott already had a pen out and ready on his desk, but maybe he was low on ink, or something. Nope. Somehow, Scott McCall - the dazed, shy, absent minded boy - had predicted that this beautiful, out of this world girl would need a pen. From the look Allison had given Scott, Milena knew this was just the beginning.

Well, then. Wow. Unexpected.

She felt a familiar foot kick lightly at her own, and turned slowly to look over at her brother, seated in the row directly next to her own. She raised an eyebrow, ignoring the paranoia she was experiencing knowing Erica could now see the side of her face. Did she look okay? Was it her good side? Did she have a good side? Whatever. It didn't matter. Erica didn't care. Stiles' eyes darted from Milena's face down to her hand, and she followed suit. Her hand was shaking. Why was her hand shaking? She looked back up to Stiles, both eyebrows raised now, and saw he was imitating her expression almost exactly. So quickly, fast enough that nobody else would notice, Stiles' eyes darted in Erica's direction, a question behind the motion. Milena gave a slight nod, and a shrug. Stiles seemed to accept that explanation, as it was nothing new, and then his eyes skittered away once again, and directed Lena's attention in Scott and Allison's direction. It was clearly his original question, having kicked her moments after the pen thing had happened. She shrugged in response to that, too. She had even less of an idea as to what the hell was going on as he did.

By second period, Allison Argent was officially a popular kid. Inbetween classes, Lydia Martin had descended, with boyfriend Jackson in tow, and had stuck her claws very effectively into the shiny, bubbly new girl. Milena wasn't surprised. Lydia reminded her a lot of a magpie - always after new, shiny things to collect and play with. It didn't phase her. She'd never cared much for the social hierarchy. Stiles, however, did. And seeing as Scott was all head over heels for Allison, so did he, in this instance. It made her day unbelievably dull and repetitive - even borderline annoying. She had a certain capacity for these things, and that was on a good day. There was only so much a long suffering sister and childhood friend could take from Scott and Stiles, and it was near impossible to stomach when it was so concentrated. All she heard all day was Lydia and Allison and popularity and Scott's bite. There were, of course, the thankful reprieves in conversation in the form of hockey, classes and sleep deprivation, but... it just wasn't enough. By lunch, Milena was well and truly done. She was beyond her realm of reasonable withstanding, and as the same, mindless conversation continued between Scott and Stiles, she found herself deflating, sinking into an exhausted, sleep deprived heap on the cafeteria table, her head hidden away in her arms. Insultingly, it took them a whole five minutes to realise she had retired from functioning, and it took them even longer to grow concerned. Scott was the first to notice, his eyes darting away from Stiles as he spoke, and trailing over to land on Lena's despairing form. He nudged her, his foot seeking out her shin with a gentle kick. She grunted, but didn't sit up. Stiles was oblivious, for the most part, distracted as Lydia had swanned into the cafeteria.

"Lena?" Scott asked, scooting up on the bench next to her to get close enough to start poking her. "Lena, rise and shine."

"Let me die," she grumbled. Scott would have rolled his eyes, but he was just too kind for that. Instead, he kicked Stiles' shin, a lot harder than he'd kicked Milena's. "Stiles. Your twin sister. She's dying."

"Ow, dude! What the hell? Okay, she's dying! Nothing new. When is she not dying? She does this every day."

"Today just... seems more serious."

Unlike Scott, Stiles was not above a good eye roll, and so he indulged, dramatically. "Milena Stilinski, if you don't sit up right now I'm going over there to Erica's table and I'm telling her everything you've ever said to me about her. Capeche?"

With an uncharacteristically energetic start, Milena jolted right up, her spine ram rod straight, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with alarm. "You would not. You will not."

"Well..." Stiles gestured ominously, "Keep yourself conscious, then. Can't take the risk. I'm unpredictable. I could do anything. Don't risk it. It would be for your own goo-"

"If you tell her I'll tell Lydia."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, and then retracted himself from the bench, spreading his arms out wide and smacking at his chest. "Come at me. You'd be doing me a favour."

It was Milena's turn to roll her eyes. "Sit down. Don't be an asshole."

"Born that way, as were you." Stiles gave a sassy jerk to his head. Another eye roll from Milena. Scott watched on in patient bemusement.

"Anyway, Scott." Milena stressed, deliberately turning away from her brother and towards Scott instead, "How are you feeling? Is your fatal war wound bothering you at all?"

"No, actually. I'm kinda surprised. It seems to just be... healing."

"That's... odd? I don't know if that's odd. Is that odd? I've never been bit by a bird pretending to be a wolf. I wouldn't know."

"It was a wolf."

"No, it wasn't." Stiles intercepted quickly, eyes on Lydia across the room. His leg was bouncing, Milena could tell from the way his body was bobbing about in his seat.

"Dude, I heard it." Scott protested.

Once again, Milena deflated. "Please, just please... for the sake of anything either of you hold dear... find something new to talk about. Please? I can't do this all day."

"Allison-"

"No."

"Lydia-"

"NO."

"... Erica?"

"Proceed."

"Erica... is currently sat down. At a table. Over there."

"Astute observation. Continue."

"She is also eating her food. It appears to be salad."

"What's she drinking?"

Stiles squinted, and Scott swivelled round in his chair to look. "... I'm pretty sure that's OJ."

"... Amazing," Milena breathed, almost reverently. "Of course. She loves orange juice."

"Milena..." Scott began, and even though Stiles shot him a warning look, as it was obvious what topic he was about to attempt to breach, he continued, "when... are you going to... you know...?"

Milena drummed her fingers on the table, regarding Scott with a contemplative look. "Hmm? When am I going to talk to her? Oh, never. Possibly in the next life. Not this one."

"You have to at least try..."

"Says who? Are you gonna make me, Scott?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows. Milena raised her eyebrows. Scott raised his hands to defend himself. "She's really nice, Lena. She's super easy to talk to and she's not even..." he gestured vaguely in Lydia's direction and Stiles sat up a little straighter, "Lydia or Allison or anyone popular, you know? She's not scary. I think you're really missing-"

"I... I just can't, man. I wish I could. I really do. But I can't. You don't understand... to me, she is scary."

Stiles nodded along sagely, "Hot Girl Syndrome. Even other attractive girls suffer."

"Aw, bro. Did you just rate me a bro out of ten? Bro. That's sweet, bro. Bless you, bro." Milena offered Stiles a chip as a sign of appreciation, and he smacked it out of her hand. She watched it fall to the floor in dismay.

"Don't mock me. Don't. I'm a fairly good looking guy, no? By right of twinship, that makes you equally as attractive. Fact. Law. I declare it."

"Man, that's a shame. I thought you were giving me a selfless compliment."

"Never assume such pure intentions, dear sister."

"You guys are weird. I don't say that enough. But it's true. Weird." Scott took a sip from his drink and then returned the topic to that which Milena had tried so hard to avoid, "Seriously, Lena. I talked to Allison, and it was the best thing ever. Erica's so nice."

"When have you even spoken to her?"

"I spoke to her... once."

"See? You don't know."

Scott sighed, rubbing at his cheek, "Just consider it."

Stiles weighed in, then. "He has a point. You'll never know unless you try. Another fact."

Milena cast her gaze downwards and then away, glancing over her shoulder at the blonde girl who hid herself away in the corner of the cafeteria. She supposed she could do it... if it made Erica realise that she wasn't invisible. She thought nobody saw her, and Milena suspected she even wanted no-one to see her, but it was painfully untrue. Milena saw her. She always saw her. She saw her so plainly and clearly that it almost hurt her to watch Erica curl up and tuck herself away. Lena groaned, and sunk back into the safety of the table, just as Erica Reyes lifted her eyes from her plate and returned the stare she'd had fixed on her.