All Is Now Harmed

but its in your nature

blooms inside your blood

hold me in harms way, baby

all is now harmed

"It's going to be okay—y-you're gonna to be okay!" Lydia struggle to draw in breath as she tried to get a clear view of the blow that just hit Stiles.

Stop crying. She attempted to calm herself. The tears were distracting her from helping Stiles; they were blurring her vision, stinging her cheeks raw.

Feeling everything in his body expand and explode in utter pain, Stiles lay on the floor, struggling not to scream though he wanted to badly. The hit spread through his body like a shock wave, not having much of a warning to absorb it. He stared up at Lydia hovering above him, trying to get ahold of his bearings by setting his focus on something familiar.

He didn't know exactly where he was hit, but the feeling pain through the numbness of his chest told him it was bad.

His vision danced across his eyes violently, he tried to blink and squint to make it go away, but that only made it worse. There were two of Lydia, then out of nowhere three and four before he closed his eyes to gain a sense of control.

"No, no no! Eyes open, Stiles!" Lydia shouted not wanting to lose the only bridge that ensures his well being. Keep him conscious, keep him awake, keep him aware. She repeated.

He opened his eyes and revealed a small ghost of a smile. Surprisingly she was now clear as day. "Okay. Okay, good," Lydia offered a smile. It was short and sweet. "you're gonna be fine." She stated firmly.

He wanted to believe that. But he could hear the strain in her voice as she spoke, almost as if she was holding something back.

A scream.

Stiles felt his body throb violently as he struggled to stay still—desperately wanting to shake the pain away like he usually would. But he couldn't for when he moved it only made it worse. He heard Lydia's attempts to calm him down, as she pressed her hands against the wound, hoping the pressure would keep him from bleeding out before help would get there. Her shaky hands soaked in crimson. His blood warm and slippery, passing through her fingers like an invisible idea surrendered to misfortune.

His body began shaking terribly, his breathing rapid, but shallow. No. Lydia came to the realization that his body might be going into shock from the blood loss. He's going into hypervolemic shock. So She quickly checked for other possible indicators. His skin was clammy, his pulse weak.

"Crap." She exhaled sharply coming back to her senses. "Stiles?" She shouted through a thick sob. "You have to stay calm, y-you ha-have to." She pleaded not knowing what else to offer, but attempt to keep him calm.

"Just listen to my voice, okay?" She instructed forcing herself to speak softly. "Just listen to my voice... like last time, remember?" Her voice is so faint it travels clearly from Stiles ear's down to his spine in a tingle. His eyes snaps to hers, and he nods to the best of his ability, not being able to catch his breath in the midst of his panic.

He knew she was panicked. He also that following Lydia's instructions were his best shot.

"Y-you're gonna be fine. W-we're gonna get you out of here s-soon a-and Melissa will be waiting at the hospital a-and you'll be okay. You'll be fine." She expressed her voice trailing on and on subconsciously. But the more she repeated the phrase the more it seemed like she was trying to convince herself.

Her hands began shaking uncontrollably, his blood uncomfortably drying on the outskirts of her wrists, wrinkling the tips of her fingers. She tried to stop it, tried to grasp reality and force herself to keep going, to keep helping him. But it was so goddamn hard.

Strands of her hair fell in front of her face, blocking her view. And she let out a furious cry, pushing them back; the blood from his wound staining her porcelain face.

They were alone, no one would come to help them there, enclosed in that small moldy basement.

Stiles gazed up at her. Her eyes wide and crazed in desperation, consumed by fear, pain and something she could only depict as regret.

Lydia was running out of things to say to ground him to this earth. And she was nearing the point of breaking until it came to her.

"Remember that night I-I came to your house, right after I thought Jackson had died?" She asks half expecting him to answer normally. Stiles swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth, nearly choking, his lips parted as if to say something but words refused to come out.

It didn't matter though. One glance at the look in his eyes said it all.

She smiled wanting nothing more than to touch his face, but her hands were too occupied from stopping him from bellying out; she had to stay focused. "Y-you said something to me that night. About getting hurt." She continues. "You said, 'death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you' a-and for once I need you to not be right." She pleaded with a determined nod.

The corner's of Stiles' lips stretched upwards as Lydia attempted to wipe her tears away with her shoulder.

"A-and you said—" Her voice broke not knowing how to continue. "Y-you said 'if you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind'." This time she didn't suppress her sobs.

"So Stiles," Her voice crumbled at his name. "I-If you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind." She stressed every syllable, every sound with a determined tone.

Stiles let out a labored breath putting as much energy as he could to force his hand on top of hers. There were tears falling down the sides of his temples as he realized she had remembered that night. He was yelling out of fear, wanting nothing more than to keep her safe in within the four walls of his bedroom. He remembered thinking maybe she would've listened to him if he shouted. But he was so wrong. That was night he figured her out.

Lydia Martin didn't react well to being challenged.

"L-Lyd-Lydia." He struggled out between breathes, he was panicking for he couldn't get a clear picture of her face anymore. The world was slowly fading away. He could only make out the outline of her body, so he to blinked away his tears.

The strawberry blond sniffed and spoke through her sobs. "Yes?" Her voice was so faint, so soft, that his ears barely picked it up.

He tried to continue, he tried to form words with his lips but nothing came out. Instead, a violent cough took him over and before he knew it he had coughed out a thick, warm, crimson from his mouth.

Oh god.

Lydia gasped in horror as she turned him back on his back. She took her hand from his abdomen and used her thumb to whip the blood from his mouth. And somehow, he no longer felt like her was talking into thick air.

"I-I'm d-dying."

But Lydia only shook her head refusing to accept what was inevitable. "No. No Stiles, you are not dying today." She reassured with a rather stern tone.

"Do you hear me?" She continued seeking for some type of reply. Stiles just shut his eyes tight holding in the pain of the world before he nodded, though he disagreed. He didn't want to upset her any more than she already was.

"Just hol-hold m-my ha-nd." He said basically forcing the sentence out of his throat. He was having a hard time holding onto reality at that point. Though his vision wasn't compromised anymore, he still felt like he was slowly fading, drifting further and further from reality.

Lydia immediately shook her head. "No, no. I am not holding your hand because you are not dying today." She stated stubbornly, the tears we're now drying on her face.

Stiles looked up at her in defeat, and with whatever strength he had left in that moment, he spoke. "Lydia stop." Her attempts were useless, nothing was going to stop him from bleeding out. Especially not if the bullet hit a major artery and by the looks of the amount of blood gushing about it most likely did. He would be dead in minutes.

A reality they both took note of.

But Lydia didn't want to hear it. "They're going to find us; Scott, Kira, Derek—they're going to find us, Stiles. Just hold on! Okay? Please," She panted. "just hold on." She cried, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence. She knew it was a long shot that they were actually going to be found anytime time soon, they're been missing for days. But she had to believe, it was her only hope. It was their only hope.

"A-are you saying that as a Banshee or just being optimistic?" Stiles joked, his voice miraculously coming back to him.

Lydia couldn't help chuckling though her tears. "Haven't we had this conversation before?" Only Stiles could make her laugh in a situation like this.

"Y-Yeah." He swallowed trying to force a smile though the pain.

If Stiles didn't know better, he would've thought his body was on fire. It felt like flames were burning through his limbs, tearing apart his flesh bit by bit. Fire danced through his veins, smoke trapped in his lungs.

But somehow he was calm, as if his body wasn't playing a game of havoc but he was laying down to rest. His back felt wet and sticky and it only took him a moment to realize that it was blood, forming a puddle around his body.

There was so much blood—too much.

He could feel his heart race violently in his cheat, desperately trying to pump the remainder of his blood through its women, tried chambers. Fighting to keep him alive. Fighting to keep him to this earth.

In the background he could hear Lydia's desperate sobs weighting down his heart with every wail. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he was undeliberately the cause of it.

He wanted to reach out to her, comfort her if not with his actions, then with his words. But Stiles couldn't bring his lips to form anymore words. His strength was simply gone. His eyelids felt heavy and they uncontrollably began to close. He was having a hard time staying awake, staying alert. The world was drifting further away now, and he barely realized it.

But Lydia noticed this and quickly cupped her free hand around his face, staining his cheek with the red from his own blood, trying anything to keep him grounded. "Stiles open you're eyes! Please—oh god!" Another sob escaped her lips; she knew that if she continued on like this she would have no more fight left in her.

"Stiles you gotta stay awake—Stiles, please!" She urged, gently shaking his head. He nodded softly and forced his eyes to stay open, though now they were halfway closed. He could still see her face clearly, which he was grateful of. He didn't want to take his eyes off her, but it was hard to keep them open. His blood-stained lips remained parted, sucking in any air his throat managed to scrape through down to his lungs in a ragged manner.

"Stay awake, I know it's hard—b-but pl-e-ase." She spoke through a sob. He just look up at her, half-heartedly.

"You're so beautiful when you cry." He couldn't tell if the words managed to escape his lips but it didn't matter anymore.

A strike of pain flashed through his chest making him groan in agonizing pain, and Lydia immediately let her hand fall from his face, and using it to keep him still.

Stiles began to wonder if this was how his mother felt as she was dying; living in a constant struggle to grasp reality. He wondered if this is how she felt in her last moments on earth. At least we both had someone we love to tie us back to reality, or it would be much harder to stay lucid. To stay sane. He thought upon meeting Lydia's gaze.

He struggled to swallow. He struggled to form another set of words.

"Ho-ld m-my h-and." He pleaded once more to the girl. He was running out of time, and with each second that passed, he was reminded it was a second he would never get back.

"Y-you are not, d-dying Stiles!" Lydia shot down at him stubbornly, she refused to believe it.

"P-please." He exerted in exhaustion.

"I-I do-n wa-hn to d-die a-lone." His words were slurred, a desperate last attempt to speak to her.

The pain was fading, it though it was a relief, he took it as a sign that the end was close.

Tears felt never ending as they stained down the sides of his face. A sob escaped Lydia as she released the pressure on the wound and grabbed his hand, bringing it up and placing it on his chest. She tightened her eyes in dread, forcing more tears out."Please." She begged, leaning forward and pressing her lips on his clammy hand. Her shaking sobs echoed though his skin.

He thought of his dad, how he would react, how he would feel, what he would have to go through again, and another sob escaped his lips in pain. He wanted to fight, he wanted to endure this hell a little longer so that maybe there was a chance they could be rescued.

He found this strange confidence of strength for a moment. Wanting nothing more than a chance at graduating, at going to college, at falling in love, at a life.

Then everything just simply relaxed, his body stopped shaking and the pain was completely gone.

Lydia leaned back and exhaled sharply through a small hiccup. If it weren't for the situation, Stiles would tease her about it. "—C-can't feel a-anything." He muttered faintly to Lydia, his lips dry.

Her stomach made a nasty turn and her face scrunched up letting more tears fall. She sniffed sharply and nodded realizing she had to accept what was coming for his sake. She exhaled sharply and nodded down at the boy before her.

"Th-that's okay." She lied, and he knew it. Stiles nodded, swallowing painfully. And the strawberry blond wiped her eyes aimlessly and smiled sweetly down at him.

Calm and collected. She tried to convince herself before she shifted her position now cradling him in her lap. She didn't want to move him earlier in fear of only aggravating his injuries.

It killed her to admit it, but there wasn't anything else she could do now but comfort him. Lydia looked down at the boy, and swallowed. She wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt trying to get them clean, but it was no use. She looked down at them and wondered if they'd ever be clean.

Lydia grabbed his hand tightly and ran her hand gently and gently through his dark locks. Her fingers grasping through every hair in a soothing motion.

She tried not to feel, she tried to make herself numb, deny reality like she was so used to and play along. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Stiles deserved much more than her holding in her emotions.

He just looked up her in dreadful peace. His irises were filled with a mixture of pain, regret, longing.

"I-I've always loved you."

His lips remained parted, trying to grasp in as much air as he could. But it had made little to no affect. "F-from the first day I l-laid eyes on you Lydia Martin."

Lydia nodded, with pity, and regret. "I-I know," She painfully revealed. "do you still love me?"

"H-how could I n-not?"

"Good, because I love you too." She admitted cautiously. At that point Stiles lips formed a tiny but noticeable smile, then after a moment he thought maybe the blood loss had finally gotten to his brain and he was imagining things.

He waited to for air to come, but it was reaching his lungs at a much slower pace now. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, having a hard time forming his words as his eyelids drooped lower and lower until they were almost close.

Panic began to set on Lydia as she realized what was happening. "Stiles?" She begged shaking him gently. "Stiles, stay with me." She urged desperately.

"Kiss me."

Lydia let out a strangled sob in disbelieve but nodded. As she leaned down, Stiles found enough strength to open his eyes and take her in one more time. He quickly soaked in her features; her rosy lips, her strawberry blond curls, her mesmerizing green eyes.

But as she inched forward, the casting shadows guided his eyelids to a rest. He drew one more shaky breath before he felt her soft lips against his. It only lasted a few seconds, and that was all it took for him to fall completely in love with her again.

As Lydia retreaded, she felt his tight, contrasted muscles relax in her lap, his hand fell open on the ground at his side.

And that feeling creeped up her throat in the form of a scream.

my fear in lights

all I said comes home

I can't do this alone

asleep inside I was born to die

now prove me wrong, prove me wrong