As soon as the sound of the first chirping bird echoed through the house Lydia was awake. Her eyes fought to remain closed as she lay on top of the covers, still wearing the same dress she'd been wearing last night, but she couldn't fight that she was awake and she couldn't take it back. She couldn't take anything she done back.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, the caked tears and old makeup almost sealing them shut, her eyelashes catching on each other. Her body ached, her limbs sore and tired even though she realized she must have slept for more than twelve hours. It had been a restless sleep, uneasy, riddled with nightmares all ending the same way. Like a tape on rerun, all she could feel right before she would wake up screaming in a cold sweat, was the memory and feeling of Stiles unresponsive lips on her own as she kissed him.

For a second she thought she shouldn't have been tired but she then recalled each and every time she had awoken violently from her nightmares. She sat up slowly, arching her back and pressing her arms out. She rested there and looked out the window trying to decide if she could even face the day.

The room was silent, save for the cacophony of the clock ticking and her shaky breathing. Lydia stood finally and came up to the mirror to look at herself. Her hair was a knotted mess, long strawberry-blond tangles splayed over the dresses capped sleeve. The flowery pattern was creased every which way, her tights bunching at the knees filled with long runs from her restless sleep. Lydia slowly peeled the black sheer fabric from her legs and undid the dresses' zipper. It was strangely therapeutic, detaching the fabrics from her skin, taking the off, stripping the old fabric off, the thin layer of sweat between the material and her skin causing it to stick slightly. With how tired she was it was tedious going but she kept on, undoing the clasps of her shoes, unhooking her bra and pulling down her underwear, taking the slow steps into the bathroom, her bare feet sensitive to the cool tile.

Lydia showered, taking her time to stand underneath the hot stream of water and wash her hair and face clean of any and all makeup or sweat. She got out of the shower, toweled off and began doing her makeup and getting dressed.

She pressed her thumb on her phone to turn it on and she saw the screen.

Parrish Cell: Lydia, call me back

Parrish Cell: I won't leave a message, I'm sure you're asleep

Parrish Cell: I'll call you tomorrow? Text me Lydia, this is important

She grimaced at the various messages from Parrish and the lack of messages from the one she really wanted. Stiles hadn't called or texted at all. She fought back a bout of tears so as to not smudge her freshly applied makeup. She dried and styled her hair, pushing a headband into it and positioning it impeccably at the top of her head.

"Lydia! Come down here please!" Mrs. Martin called from the downstairs kitchen. Somehow Lydia could almost hear the click of her mothers heels on the white tile, almost smell her perfume. Chanel N5, like it always had been wafting through the spotless kitchen. Lydia felt her chest constrict at the sound of her mothers voice and clicked down the staircase in her own heels.

"Morning mom." Lydia said, picking up a bagel and grabbing the cream cheese from the silver fridge. Just as Lydia spun around with a knife, Mrs. Martin took the plastic container from Lydia between two fingers and tucked it back into the fridge shelf.

"No sweetie, you don't need that do you? Waste of calories, too fattening for you." Her mother said, pouring coffee into the pink mug and handing it Lydia. "Two sugars and creamer please dearest." Glaring at the back of her mother's head Lydia took the creamer out of the fridge and fixed up her mothers coffee bitterly.

"You got home late." Lydia said, as she watched her mothers perfect bob bounce as she hurried around the kitchen. As angry as she already was at her mother she couldn't help but acknowledge how stunning she looked. Her hair was flawless, her pantsuit perfectly fitted, and her lipstick perfectly in line.

"I didn't sweetie, I just got here an hour ago. Date with Thomas ran late you understand." Mrs. Martin said, "You remember that tonight, I'm leaving for Atlanta for two weeks. You'll be good on food right? There's frozen meals in the freezer, a meat-free meatloaf in the fridge, gluten-free muffins over there, bagels, salad, all that. You can make it work right sweetie? I'll leave money for groceries, but don't spend it on shit food alright?" Mrs. Martin said, brushing a kiss on Lydia's cheek and patting her head twice. Before Lydia could reply, Mrs. Martin was out the door, her jacket sweeping over her arm and her purse on her shoulder.

"Bye, mom." Lydia said despondent and alone in the kitchen. It was not a rare occasion that her mother didn't come home on weekends, and even more common occasion that she jetted off to god-know-where during the week. Lydia considered opening the fridge and spreading cream cheese on her bagel, but she did, instead eating the bagel plain. Her mother wouldn't have wanted her to anyway.

"You smell weird." Malia said, stepping up to Stiles at his locker and pressing her nose into her shirtsleeve.

"I know you're new to this babe but commenting on people's body odor isn't considered normal or flattering, especially if they smell, you know, weird." Stiles said, spinning around and pressing his lips fleetingly to her. She pulled away quickly, more consumed in the scent than in him.

"No I mean, you smell fine but you smell weird, like, uhm you smell like…" Malia paused, contemplating the scent, her eyes rolling up into her forehead, "God I know this smell, this is going to kill me. " Suddenly her tongue bolted out to canvas her own lips, another confused look crossing her features, "You taste weird toi, what's this? What is this?" Malia said, licking her lips and forcibly pulling his face back by pressing her hands to his cheeks, not to kiss him, but to run her tongue over them and taste whatever it was she thought was on his lips. Stiles groaned a little in annoyance and fought to move his head away from her as she literally licked him. But what with her were-coyote strength he couldn't pull her off. People were starting to stare.

"Uhm, Malia, can you maybe, stop, please and—" Stiles said through gritted teach, his eyes glancing back and forth down the halls.

"Are we interrupting something?" Scott said laughing as he walked up to them, dragging Kira along by the crook of his arm.

"No, nope, not a thing." Stiles said, putting his left hand on the side of Malia's forehead and forcibly pushing her tongue from his lips and glaring slightly, attempting to convey to silently to Malia that this was not okay. She looked up at him and pouted.

"Scott, he smells weird, and he tastes weird. And not like, smell smell, but like smell smell." Malia said, turning to Scott and tilting her head trying to convey what she meant. Obviously it had something to do with their fancy werewolf senses tingling.

Scott's eyes traced over Stiles and his nostrils flaring as he took in the scent.

"You want a taste too?" Stiles said, puckering his lips and leaning towards his best friend facetiously. Still he felt his pulse pick up a little. Malia must have smelled his guilt and more importantly she smelled Lydia… she had tasted Lydia. Stiles hadn't thought to try and rinse of her scent last night, he'd only spent his time pacing his room =, mind-boggled over everything that had gone down. He rememeber the feelings of her lips on his and his menat went fuzzy. Realizing how out of it he must seem, he shook his head and turned back to them. Stiles had a feeling Malia wasn't attuned enough to pick up or understand this but Scott was a different story.

Stiles watched Scott's nose perk up and eyebrows shoot to the top as his forehead as the scent registered with him. Of course would instantly recognize the smell of Stiles's guilt, the smell of Lydia, he knew both of them too well to have it any other way. Stiles begged Scott silently to keep it under wraps, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes. Somehow, probably a result of their years of unaltered friendship, Scott understood his plea.

"UHmm.. I don't know Malia, smells average to me. Super average, like more average than average. Hey Stiles can we talk for a second." Scott said, bumbling through and excuse of a phrase, leaving Stile as near to face palming as he'd ever been. Scitt kissed Kira lightly on the forehead and waved her off. Kira understood his hurry somehow and locked arms with Malia dragging her to class. Silently, Stiles thanked Kira as well.

"Still think you smell strange. Bye Stiles, bye Scott." Malia said, walking of begrudgingly with Kira, a suspicious look on her face. Stiles waved stiffly and watched them walk down the hall and turn the corner and then he turned to Scott.

"You smell super super guilty Stiles, and probably more importantly you smell like Lydia. Like a lot like Lydia, and I'm not gunna try it out but I'm sure you taste like her too." Scott said, nearly slamming Stiles against the lockers. "Dude, did you cheat on Malia with—"

"No! God no! Not intentionally." Stiles said, locking a hand in his hair.

"Intentionally? Stiles what the hell? Dude, I'm a combination of really happy for you and really, really upset with you." Scott said, "I'm also about two seconds from slamming you against the lockers and also hugging you and never letting go. Lydia? Lydia Martin?! I'm like so happy for you but also really upset, how could you do this?! But dude congrats!" Scott spoke quickly, alternating between violent looks and massively pleased grins, between clasping Stiles on the shoulder out of pure joy and slamming up against the lockers in anger.

"Stop you inner turmoil Scottie, I didn't cheat on Malia." Stiles said holding up his hands.

"What? Dude you smell more like Lydia than you have in months, and you smell guilty. I'm just putting two and two together. Did you two not get together?" Scott replied as if that was the sole possibility, and the fact that it hadn't happened seem to completely confuse him..

"Dude, listen to me for about ten seconds alright, that's all I'm asking for. Yes, Lydia and me were working on the dead pool last night, that's why I smell like her I think, but you knew that. Anyway, later in the night, I don't know Parrish called her and I kind of flipped on her and then we were arguing and one thing lead to another and it all sort of escalated because Lydia of course was being Lydia and throwing caution and her own safety to the wind, and then she had something to tell me about how she lost me, but she couldn't get it out and she started having a panic attack and she-she-she—" Stiles said, reiterating the events of last night to his best friend in a flurry, spastically flinging his arms around to demonstrate the utter chaos. "She kissed me. I didn't kiss her, she kissed me I swear Scott."

"Dude, she kissed you?" Scott said, a massive smile spreading over half his face.

"Shhhh…Dude that's all you took from that? Okay okay, stop, she did it to stop her panic attack. It didn't mean anything. The kiss was harmless, but it happened and then things got weird." Stiles explained spastically.

"You kissed her back?" Scott asked excitedly. Then he realized that maybe he should be angry and his face shifted.

"No."

"You didn't?" Scott question confused, as for him not kissing a girl who was kissing you seemed rather stupid.

"Well no. Plus it would have been weird if I had she did it to stop her panic attack like I said."

"What do you mean panic attack?"

"It… one time Lydia read that when you stop breathing, or in this case start kissing, you could stop a panic attack. It happened this other time that I was having a panic attack. That's not important, it just, it didn't mean anything." Stiles said under his breath glancing nervously around. In a school full of supernaturals you never knew who could be eavesdropping.

"She kissed you? Lydia Martin, she kissed you. The girl you've been in love with for years and years and years now, kissed you. This wasn't just some fantasy your head made up." Scott said, and Stiles felt a thrill at the truth in his words. A year ago the occurrences of last night would have fulfilled every single dream he'd ever had, thrilled him beyond belief. Now it just caused him a bit of confusion and a touch of pain.

"Yea, she actually did. You moron, it wasn't a dream or something like that, it happened." Stiles said half-smiling at the thought of her lips on his. "But I mean, what about, ya know, Malia.

"Well she doesn't know, but she obviously smelled Lydia on you, and probably caught hints of your guilt too. But she didn't know what she was smelling. If she runs into Lydia though she might figure everything out. Are you going to tell her?" Scott said, looking Stiles in the eye.

"I mean… no I wasn't going to, it didn't mean anything to Lydia." Stiles said nervously. Scott looked Stiles up and down readjusted the bag on his back and clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Dude, its you and Lydia, it always means something." Scott said, shaking his head and then turning to amble off down the hallway to class, leaving Stiles to gather the last of his books and his thought in the lonely chaos of a high school hallway. He looked to his left, to Lydia's locker two down and wondered if he would see her this morning, what he would say, how it would feel to look at her and know what it felt like to have her lips pressed to his. Just the memory of the feeling sent his heart into open air.

Stiles eyes trailed past the locker and down the hall and finally he saw her, walking distractedly into school, studying the tiles of the floor with great interest, her eyes glazed over, her legs working without her consent.

For a second he debated taking the easy way out, fleeing down the hall, pretending he hadn't seen her, as she had obviously not seen him. Instead he waited, reaching into his locker and switching out his books, miming the obvious action, and waiting, just waiting, to see what she might say.

Lydia had been dreading this moment since the second she woke up. She walked into school in a daze, lost in her own thoughts and memories of her dreams. It was terrifying to watch each of her friends die and the images still seemed to be burned on the back of her eyelids. The more miserable feeling that she could actually tangibly grasp was the ghost of Stiles' lips on hers, those warm, wet, unmoving lips, sending her into a spiral of despair. The thought consumed her, sent her both to the edge of complete exhilaration, and then to the edge of total anguish.

She knew where her locker was in comparison to Stiles', and she knew he had a nasty habit of running late to first hour. The likelihood of him still standing at his locker she wagered was rather high. She thought about calculating the probability of it in her head but decided quickly she was too mentally exhausted for such endeavors.

Lydia trained her eyes on the floor, counting her steps to the locker. The noise of the school hall was ordinary at best but her banshee hearing picked up on the strangest things sometimes. She focused on that, searching for something out of the ordinary with the students around her.

One student whispered answer to a homework assignment, another pair of freshman exchanged meaningless 'I love yous' as they stared into each others eyes. She could have sworn she felt her heart beat at the same rhythm as theirs, but she brushed it off. In a near silent whisper she heard Stiles' voice, chanting her name in a slow easy rhythm, sworn she felt someone pulling her forward, felt a warmth bubbling in her chest aught to be.

"Lydia?" Her name on his lips broke her from her reverie and she looked up, suddenly at her locker, unsure entirely how she had gotten there so quickly.

"Morning." She mumbled unintelligibly, shoving her head into her locker and hiding behind a curtain of strawberry blond. She reached for her books, taking her purse and placing it on the bottom only after reaching in and pulling out her lipstick. The mirror that stuck to the locker door hung precariously in its place, the little compartment beneath it filled with pens and pencils. Lydia selected one, tucking it behind her ear as she applied a layer of the creamy red lipstick and smeared it together popping her lips distinctly. In the reflection she could see Stiles, watching her nervously, as he used to when they we're freshman, but now his gaze sent her heart reeling a little. Finally their eyes connected in the glass and she spun around to meet him as he closed his locker door brashly.

"About last night." Stiles began, stepping surprisingly close to her and unwittingly pinning her between him and the locker door. She held up a hand to his lips and stopped him.

"Stop right there. Stiles we don't have to talk about it ever again if you don't want. I'm sorry I got angry, I'm sorry I yelled, and I'm sorry I-that I—" She hurried through trying to get all the words out before he could say a thing, but she stumbled over the last bit, a rosy blush rising on her cheeks.

"That you… uhm, kissed me." Stiles said, his hand flying to run through his already messy hair, a blush covering his face as well. For a second she could have sworn she say his eyes play over her lips as she chewed them but she was sure she had to be wrong.

"That I, yea did that. I know you're with Malia, and that you're a hero type of guy but telling her that I, that we, did, well that, would make things complicated." She explained, fighting the nervous habit of messing with her hair.

"Lydia it's fine, you kissed me because you we're having a panic attack, I understand." Stiles said instinctively reaching out to run a hand down the side of her face but he pulled back .

"I…I didn't." Lydia said. Suddenly she realized what she had said, that she had confessed in a matter of words.

"You didn't what?" He said, tilting his head in confusion.

"God Stiles could you be any slower?" Lydia said, frustrated that she had somehow mustered the ability to say something and he didn't even know what she meant.

"What? Why are you being so awful to me?" Stiles said gripping the back of his neck.

"Stiles. Let me slow this down for you. I kissed you to stop a panic attack yes. But I kissed you because… because I." Lydia stumbled. She wanted to say it, to tell him that she kissed him because she wanted to, because she felt something, but it was horribly painful to admit. Even if she said it, even if she told him the truth about it he would still have Malia, he would stay with Malia. All her honesty would do was hurt.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked, gently pulling her chin upward with his pointer finger. She looked up at him, eye brightened by his smile but still she was slightly heartbroken. She turned her face away so that his finger was no longer touching her thing. She scrunched up her lips and blinked, gathering her courage. Finally she tore her eyes away and locked them with his.

"I couldn't admit it until right now but… Stiles I have feelings, or uhm I have something for you. When I said I couldn't be your friend is wasn't because I didn't like you it was because I think I, I think I might—" Lydia fought the stutter that slipped into her tone. "I like you, a lot Stiles Stilinski, maybe love you, and I don't take that very lightly. I don't know but it doesn't matter now. Being your friend is too hard when I feel how I do. So… do with that what you will. But I didn't kiss you because of the panic attack, I kissed you because I desperately, desperately wanted to."

Silence settled between them, Stiles eyes growing to saucers and his jaw going slack. Lydia blinked twice, felt the blush that had settled permanently on her cheeks dissipated and smiled up at him. She spun to her locker, deposited her books in her bag, slammed the door with a satisfying bang and spun on her heels marching off down the hall.