"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Lydia asks, trying to seem sure of herself as she stares into the empty brown eyes. "Because you know I can kill you."
"You can't kill me."
The words echo in the hall, bounce off the dirty walls in this creepy basement. She tries to tune it out, but he doesn't stop. He won't stop.
"You'll be killing yourself, too, Lydia," not- Stiles sing-songs and it sounds wrong, so so wrong, that anything with Stiles's voice could seem to take pleasure in her possibly imminent death.
"You'll be killing him."
She clenches her eyes shut tightly. She won't look at him. She can't, because even if this isn't Stiles, it's his face and his body and she can't even think about letting him go, letting him die.
The words are still echoing in her head, even after the nogitsune disappeared, leaving her alone in the hallway. She feels like she's bordering on a breakdown and she can't focus well enough, can't stop hearing desperate voices long enough, to be able to properly control her breathing.
Her eyes open when she hears the loud slap of footsteps on concrete. She doesn't even have time to say a silent prayer when Scott and Stiles appear, running full speed towards her.
"No, why are you here?" she asks them frantically.
Scott and Stiles give her nearly identical looks of confusion and concern, but she ignores them.
"Didn't you get my message?" she asks, aiming her question at Scott this time.
"Lydia-"
"Where is he?" Scott interrupts Stiles, clearly panicked.
"He's gone," Lydia says and Scott's running before the words get all the way out. "You need to leave, Stiles," she tells him with measured calmness that barely conceals her own panic.
"No. No, absolutely not," Stiles says firmly, shaking his head emphatically.
"Stiles-"
He cuts her off quickly, "Lydia." He takes a deep breath. "He's going to keep killing people. We can't let him keep killing people."
She swallows roughly. "I know."
He nods in response and searches her face as he tries to find the words. "I don't want to let you die, Lydia. Not you."
He sounds desperate, like the voices that won't stop in her head. She shakes her head and gives him a faint smile. "It's okay," she tells him quietly, because Stiles loves her, has always loved her, she knows, but she has never been his priority. He has his dad, he has Scott. She can't fault him for that, even though she's absolutely terrified.
"We can do this, Stiles." He looks hesitant, she notices, but the firm set of his eyes shows his resignation. His mind is made up, she knows. "We can do this together," she says softly and she knows she is signing her own death certificate as she reaches down and links their hands together.
"Okay?" she asks. He looks down at her, takes in her flawless strawberry curls and gorgeous green eyes one last time.
He squeezes her hand tightly, probably painfully, and says, "okay."
She stands up on her toes, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss to his too-sharp cheekbone.
It's okay.
Too young, too soon, but okay.