Stiles is the first one to wake up. Lydia's body weight against him has kept him warm, and despite a hunger that doesn't seem to go away, he has never felt so good. It's the first time he feels her body rise and fall against his, following his own rhythm and movements and that mere realization is enough to make him count his fingers, just in case. A few strands of her hair are tickling his nose, but he does nothing to tuck them away. Instead, he absently plays with them and lays a faint kiss on her forehead. She doesn't wake up, but a little noise escapes her lips and Stiles smiles. He knows that light noise.

He perfectly remembers those few nights during the previous months, when the moonlight had reflected in her green eyes to bring out the hope she was trying to hide in the daylight. Those nights when she had returned his own gaze, and Stiles hadn't been able to find it in himself to leave her bedroom. Those wonderful hours when he had hushed the self-conscious and scared teenager inside of him to make room for the one Lydia needed. He remembers never knowing what to do with his hands on those nights, always shyly laying his arm next to hers and leaning to kiss her temple as she was falling asleep. At that moment, that same sweet noise would escape her lips, making Stiles smile and stare just a little longer.

After that, he could fall asleep (even without his pillow). But never before.

Before, they always talked, confiding all their secrets in the night. Stiles would wonder if Lydia was able to hear all the declarations of love that were disguised behind his words, if she could hear all the promises they held. He would wonder if – just like him – she was aware of the cocoon they would build around them in those moments. A cocoon that protected them from the rest of the world, all the while keeping them apart from each other with silent promises that neither of them dared to keep. Yet.

Today, as the square of light on the floor is reduced to a thin line caressing Lydia's cheek and nose, Stiles realizes that the veil between them has started to tear open, allowing him to stare at her perfection without any thick fog around her.

He closes his eyes, trying to keep his breath stable to avoid waking her up with the same sobs as yesterday. Why is the universe so cruel? Why let them bond like that now? What had they done in a former life to deserve only a few months of blissful tranquility?

When he had heard her say his name two nights ago, Stiles had felt his heart beat harder than ever. If they hadn't been in danger, he is sure he would have told her the right words. Stupidly, he had thought the connection between them was strong enough to keep him on Earth a little longer.

But there are moments…barely a few seconds, sometimes a few minutes, but never more than two… There were moments when Lydia forgets.

He sees it in her stare. It suddenly turns glazed; her eyes widen and work to study everything around her – to try to understand where she is. Those moments never last long enough for her to realize what's happening, but all of them are imprinted in Stiles's memory. Each time, he catches himself hoping it will be the last, but he knows better. It was probably the first lesson life has taught him. In those moments, he can't help but think about him mom, about what his dad must have been going through and it scares him just as much as it gives him hope.

Because even if his mom died, she died with both their names on her lips.

Because even if Stiles could tell the difference between the sounds of the empty Scotch bottle and Vodka bottle when they would hit the ground, his dad would still wake up with a more confident smile every once in a while.

He can't explain it, but his mom is around sometimes, watching over them. When he was a kid, Stiles had managed to convince himself that death had given his mom her memories back, that as she had been able to remember them at the last minute, she had passed some kind of test and was now allowed to come back to visit them with her memories.

His mother had been buried in a green dress, the color of hope according to a Polish aunt he had never met. Young Stiles didn't think it could be a coincidence that Lydia's eyes were the same color as that dress, so when she had looked at him intensely that Saturday, he knew the answer he had found was the right one. Just in case, he had never told anyone. It was between them. Somehow, he thinks his father knows too. The undeniable proof is the light crooked smile on Noah's lips when he thinks or talks about her now.

He knows what he has to do. It's scary, but Lydia's memory lapses aren't like his mother's because there's something he can do about them….maybe. There's something his mom must have never forgotten, or she would have ended up leaving the house. She must have remembered she was home with Stiles and his father. She must have remembered how much they loved her.

So, Stiles understands that if his memory ends up slipping through Lydia's fingers, the only way he can get back to her is if she can remember the love he feels for her. He doesn't feel anything stronger and more rooted inside of him anyway. Sometimes, he thinks that's what he has always been made for: loving Lydia, giving her all of the love she needs, in whatever form it should take.

He has to make her remember the voice of his silent love. She can hear it. He has hope that she can hear it. All those times when, if his eyes could have talked, they would have filled her ears with I love you's. Those times when, if his fingers could have painted in the air, they would have invented the most beautiful colors and bring them right into her dreams.

Deep down, Stiles knows that confessing his love to Lydia isn't just about being able to get back to her. It's an instinct. Both of them have already died too many times without him finding the courage to tell her. He can't take it anymore. His former desperate love has sprouted into something hopeful that can't be ignored. It's not something he can keep for himself, he has to let it out so it can grow bigger, brighter… Stronger.

Lydia stretches against him, turning slightly to seek more warmth as she's waking up. Only listening to his instinct, Stiles brings his legs closer around her and circles her head with his arms, nuzzling his nose in her hair against her cheek. He can feel her hand tightening around his waist, and she opens her eyes. They are so close to each other that he feels her smile before he can see it.

"Hi," she whispers as she lays a light kiss on his cheek.

Stiles straightens up a little bit and cups her cheek without even realizing what he's doing. Her eyes are so green in this light, so beautiful and vibrant, as if she's trying to commit to memory every single detail of his face. It coaxes a smile on his lips. She can't forget him, it's written in those eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks her in a soft voice.

She nods and is about to open her mouth when the sound of a car in the distance freezes both of them. Their eyes widen as they stare at each other.

"There's a road!" Lydia eventually says in a voice still hoarse from sleep before standing up a little too quickly. She gets dizzy and has to lean on the wall to keep from falling. Stiles rushes over to her, but his vision falters. His hands grip at her waist, not just to hold her, but to help him stand. They would have to find actual food, quickly.

The sun is high in the sky, signaling the beginning of the afternoon, as they start walking. That means they should have time to get to the road and hope they will find someone, anyone to help them. At that point, Stiles doesn't really know what to wish for. Their first priority has to be to find food because he doesn't know if he'll be able to stand the sight of Lydia on the verge of fainting any longer. It breaks his heart every time; even more when he thinks that deep down, it's his own fault. He shouldn't have looked at her in the Jeep that first night. If he hadn't, maybe he would have been able to let the Ghost Riders take him and none of this would have happened. Lydia would be in the warm safety of her house.

A smile makes his way on his lips because if he's right about the hour and the day, he knows exactly what she would be doing at the moment. He loses himself for a few seconds in the vision of a smiling Lydia, biting her lips as she discreetly goes to their table at the back of the high school library. It's a small table, there's only room for two, but Lydia still chose it the day they had been assigned together for a paper in history class. From that spot, you can see the entire library, but no one can see you. They kept going back to that table, even though they both know they could use a bigger one because sometimes, they help Scott or Liam with their homework. Stiles likes it even more when that's the case, because Lydia brings her chair closer to his and she tucks her knee against his thigh. Sometimes, she even bumps playfully against him when he's being too sarcastic with Liam and she's being too polite to laugh. She nudges her knee against his leg, he looks at her with a crooked smile. She smiles too, biting her lips a little. It's her secret smile. He told her that once in a bold speech that still impresses him to this day.

Lydia falters a little against Stiles, and he is brought back to the present. He notices her shallow breathing and it breaks his heart a little more. Without a second thought, he takes her by the arm to help her stand. He can feel her relax and lean against him. After a few seconds, her hand glides from his forearm to his hand, her fingers making their way through his own so they end up holding hands. As they walk slowly, Stiles can feel Lydia's body leaning more and more heavily against his own and he can't help but relishing in that feeling. It's wrong for so many reasons, because he's not supposed to find anything good about this situation. Yet he does. Lydia isn't feeling well, she could collapse against him… His heart shouldn't race like it does.

Out of nowhere, they eventually find a dirt road that must have been used not so long ago. Hope bursts into Stiles, it forms bubbles inside of him that envelop his empty stomach. Lydia exhales against him, her body weight even heavier and when he turns to look at her, she looks so pale that it drains him completely. He helps her sit down against a tree.

She's beautiful, even when she is exhausted and pale as death. She's beautiful, and Stiles silently scolds himself for having those thoughts. She must be the reincarnation of some ancient deity because in that instant, with the leaves casting moving shadows against her skin and the sunlight playing hide and seek with the spark in her eyes, she looks like she has always belonged there, in the forest.

As she's regaining her breath under his encouraging stare and shaking hands, he sees her hair turning brighter and her eyes getting that emerald shade he loves so much. As if Nature itself was sharing its color with her. Her eyes are locked on his, and Stiles can't shake off the impression the somehow, he's helping her breathe. He could stay like this forever, kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands and simply looking at her, admiring her doing something as mundane as breathing.

But Lydia winces at some point and it triggers some sense of urgency inside of him. He casts a quick glance around them, but there's nothing: no fruit, no water… And let's face it, he has no clue how to survive in forest. So, he gives her the last of his raisins with some words he hopes will comfort her. She looks like she wants to object, but she's so tired that she eventually eats them one at a time. Her vision is starting to blur. Stiles can tell by the way her pupils are dilating when she is trying to focus on something. He reaches for his bottle to give her the last drops of water, but she pushes it away in a very slow gesture.

"No… You," she manages to utter while clearing her dry throat.

Stiles gently cradles her cheek and smiles at her. His thumb lingers at the corner of her mouth and his heart leaps in his throat when he feels her lips turn slightly upward in an adorable smile. "Lyds, you have to drink, or you'll faint. I don't want that, okay?"

He tries again to bring the bottle to her lips, but she shakes her head and pushes it away one more time.

"I won't," she insists, closing her eyes and reopening them.

She reaches to take the bottle and give it to Stiles, but she's too weak and winces again. As tears begin to well up in her eyes, Stiles moves to sit down next to her and pull her against him, encircling her with his arms and stroking her hair.

He feels her head getting too heavy against his chest. "Lyds, don't fall asleep, you have to stay awake," he whispers against her ear. His voice seems to startle her because she suddenly lifts it from his chest to look at him.

When she speaks, her voice is still too weak and slow, as if she could faint any second. "You have to drink, Stiles, I haven't seen you drink in so long."

"No, it's al-"

"Stiles, please… I drank more than you yesterday," she cuts him off and lays her forehead against his cheek to reach the bottle. Stiles can feel her eyelashes fluttering like they weigh tons.

"Alright, I'll drink, but you eat at least half of the last protein bar then. Okay?"

She nods against him, and her hand doesn't move from the bottle as he reaches to drink. His fingers linger against hers, caressing her hand slowly and lovingly, knowing they are both staring at their hands. She nuzzles her head under his chin and as his brings the bottle to his lips, he feels her hand against his neck and torso, lingering over his heart. They don't say anything, but Stiles knows she is hearing everything his heart is trying to convey with its erratic beating.

He takes the protein bar out of his pocket and feeds it to her in small bites, aching with her as he sees her fighting against herself to swallow it down.

"I know, Lyds, but you have to eat," he tells her in a low voice when he sees her blinking back tears after the second bite. "Just try to relax…or you're not going to be able to keep any of it down… Okay?"

He kisses the top of her head, massaging her neck and silently blaming himself over and over again. When she has eaten half of the bar, he folds it in his pocket and keeps her close to him a few more minutes until she breathes more easily. In that time, his lips never leave her skull.

"Thanks," she nuzzles closer and gingerly brushes her lips against his jaw. "As much as I would like to stay here, we should go before it's too late."

Stiles brings her closer to him one last time. "Yeah, you're probably right".

They stand up slowly and Stiles keeps his hands low so Lydia can lean on them or grab them when she feels like she's losing her balance.

He holds her up through every step they take, trying to forget about his own dizziness and the distress signals his empty stomach is sending him. The only thing he can focus on is how important it is that Lydia stays awake. So, he talks and talks, rambling about things he knows will make Lydia react, inventing equations for her to solve and asking her questions about their last physics class, even though he understood everything.

She is reciting the periodic table when Stiles cuts her off, his heart leaping in his throat and a smile bursting out on his lips. "Lydia, look!"

Hoping with every strength he still has that it's not a mirage, he makes out a house and a parking lot in the middle of the trees. It's just a little farther away from them. The moment her eyes catch sight of the house, Stiles feels her crumbling against him.

"Lydia!" he gasps before catching her by the waist and sitting her gently down. He can see two or maybe three cars in the parking lot. He starts calling for help, feeling his heart beat too loudly and too strong against his ribcage…and then in his throat.

Eventually, he sees two silhouettes rushing to them. His voice gets stuck somewhere, and he swallows thickly.

Black dots invade his vision.

As he collapses against Lydia's unconscious body, he's vaguely aware of a silhouette bending over them.


When Stiles wakes up, the first thing his senses register is the color green. A very light apple green that engulfs him, making his mind bathe in mild vapors that graze his skin and fill his nostrils with a scent he can't name. It reminds him of the herbs Deaton used to help him sleep after the Nogitsune. He closes his eyes, letting himself get carried away by a sense of well-being, feeling his body floating above everything.

A faint but familiar noise compels him to open his eyes and turn his head. Beside him, Lydia is sleeping peacefully. Her features are less drawn and there's the hint of a smile on her lips. He wants to straighten up to get closer to her, but his entire body protests and he lies back down, wincing.

Taking the time to look at their surroundings, he notices they are in a room with green walls. It's rather small, only furnished with a bed, a desk, and a closet. The window is open to the forest. From his position, he can see the birds and hear them singing. He catches himself smiling at the simplicity of the setting. The door is open on the opposite wall, allowing a pleasant draft to pass through the room and giving life to the blue muslin curtains. The late afternoon half-light is soft, and it occurs to Stiles that he hasn't felt that peaceful in a long time.

From the corridors, he can hear footsteps and hushed voices. As he turns his head, he sees a face appearing at the door. A woman with grey hair smiles at him when he meets her stare. With quiet footsteps, she comes closer to him as he tries to sit up again.

"Careful," she whispers, reaching out to him. "I'm Millie. My husband found you and your girlfriend in the woods. Do you think you can stand?" Stiles doesn't even register the word girlfriend, leaning on Millie and trying to sit up without fainting.

"Mmh," he nods once in a sitting position and smiles at her, unable to utter more than one syllable at a time. He wants to ask her questions, but his tongue is as dry as if someone had tried to make him eat sand.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll take you to the common room. We have dinner ready for you."

There's a grumble in his stomach following that statement that makes Millie smile warmly. But Stiles's stare instinctively turns to Lydia behind him. The woman seems to understand and smiles again. "Don't worry, we'll bring her to you as soon as she wakes up."

Stiles nods without adverting his eyes, "Could you give me a few minutes?" he asks after clearing his throat.

"Yes, of course."

Mille steps out of the room after making sure he drinks a little from the glass of water on the desk.

When he is alone with Lydia again and his head isn't spinning anymore, he takes the time to look at her. Soon after, the calm he felt is replaced by a muted anguish that slowly paralyses everything inside of him. What if she wakes up without any memory of him? A few tears roll down his cheeks at that thought. He tries to wipe them off, but his hands are shaking. He hasn't told her everything yet. In fact, he hasn't told her anything. What if he gets taken without her knowing? The thought hurts him, and heavier tears land on the white sheets.

In her sleep, Lydia turns her head towards him, and he can't resist the urge to touch her skin, barely grazing it and following the outline of her cheek to her chin with his index finger. The soft light leaves half of her face in the dark and brings out the paleness of the other half; a paleness that contrasts with the warmth of her skin and the bright color of her hair. He smiles despite himself.

His finger skims against her chin and a faint moan escapes her parted lips. It makes Stiles's chest swell with hope. It envelops his heart and chases all his fears away. He has to keep hope, he has never doubted her and can't start now. She has been so strong, so determined to not leave him alone…

But yesterday's memory still weights heavy on his heart.

They had climbed into the tree house, and Lydia's empty stare had frozen him. It had been the first time she had talked during one of her amnesia episodes, and her voice had been so cold and quivering he had barely recognized it. Before her memories had the chance to come back to her, she had looked at him with a terror Stiles had wished he would never inspire her again. He had reached out, completely unaware of the Ghost Riders' gun shots outside. It hadn't mattered at that moment. If this was the last time Lydia was looking at him, it couldn't be with those eyes.

"Lydia, Lyds… It's me, Stiles…" He had tried to soften his voice as much as possible but hadn't been able to erase the tremors and desperate tears from it. She had instinctively taken a step back when he had moved forward, her hands clenching around nothing and looking like she wanted to disappear into the wall.

"They are going to kill you," she whispered.

His stomach suddenly turned into stone because those words were somehow echoing inside of him. He hadn't been able to muffle a loud sob and let his body collapse against the door as she closed her eyes.

Then, she broke out of her trance and rushed over to him to whisper comforting words to his ear, promising she wouldn't let the Ghost Riders catch him, that she wouldn't forget him. She remained unaware of what just happened, but her words hadn't been enough to erase the last seconds from his mind. Even if she was able to remember him, she would never forget everything she had been through with the Nogitsune because of him.

When the Ghost Riders left, he wasn't able to hold his tears any longer.

Lydia tilts her head slightly, offering one strand of her hair to the light breeze. Stiles leans over her to tuck it behind her ear, so it doesn't disrupt her sleep. When his fingers brush against her ear lobe, she leans towards his hand. His name escapes her lips in a whisper that echoes so loudly inside of Stiles that it gives his hope a new breath, leaving him with nothing more than a smile on his lips and a lightness in his heart.

He has to keep hope. He owes her that.

With a last loving glance, he slowly stands up and heads towards the corridor.

Millie is waiting for him a little further away. She reaches out to help him when she sees him leaning against the doorframe. As she walks him to the common room, she explains that she and her husband have been running the inn for twelve years. Most of the clients are people who want to take a step out of the world for a few days, weeks, or even months. The inn is ideally situated in the middle of the woods, but not far away from the main road that clients can reach through a small dirt road. The one where her husband found them.

Before running an inn in the forest, Millie was a nurse, which explains why she was able to take care of them so well. With a genuine smile, she lets Stiles know that he and Lydia are welcome to stay for as long as they want. She watches Stiles with a motherly look as he eats his soup, reassuring him when she says they won't ask for money. After a few minutes, her husband calls for her and she has to leave Stiles. She lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder and promises to give them some clothes former clients may have forgotten.

As he glances in her direction, a movement on his right makes him turn around towards the corridor leading to their room. He sees Lydia, her face bathed in tears and someone by her side, helping her walk and guiding her to him. When her eyes catch his stare, her entire face smiles and she lets out his name in a relief sigh that reduces his entire body to cotton. Leaning on the table to get up, he feels his heart beating violently against his ribcage, almost hurting him with its strength. They struggle to get to each other, walking on shaking legs, only focused on each other's eyes and needing the support of tables and chairs to not falter. Tears and laughs are mixing on both their faces and Stiles swears she has never been so beautiful and happy.

Lydia hasn't eaten yet. At barely an arm's length away, Stiles can feel how weakened she is. Without looking anywhere other than in her eyes, he takes the last step closer to catch her hand.

"Stiles," she sighs as their fingers connect.

He gently pulls her to him, and she collapses against his torso, encircling his waist and tightening her embrace as much as she can while she breathes deeply to get rid of her last tears.

"I was all alone when I woke up. I… I thought you were gone…"

"I'm sorry, so sorry, Lyds… I'm here… I didn't think…" Stiles has no idea what words are coming out of his mouth, but he can't stop talking, visualizing his words knitting a warm cover all around her while cradling her against him, his arms around her face and his hands in her hair.

As time passes, he can feel her nuzzling closer to him, as if she is seeking more warmth in his arms, trying to hide her face as much as she can in the cocoon he is providing her. He feels her wet lips on his neck and on the skin above the collar of his shirt, and his head is beginning to spin again. It's probably the hunger, or tiredness. Or maybe it's just Lydia. Whatever it is, he buries his nose in her hair and the outside world disappears. Nothing else exists but them, the words they are whispering, and the softness of their lips against their trembling bodies.

When he feels her collapse a little too heavily against him, he tries to straighten up to help her stand. "Come on, you have to eat."

She silently nods and sniffs, letting Stiles lead her without untangling herself from him.


Outside, the moon is full and there is no sign of thunder. Stiles wonders if that's part of the way they hunt: lull them into believing they are safe, be unpredictable enough to never leave their minds. He sighs. It's working all too well.

After eating together, they spent the end of the day resting and recovering without mentioning the future. When night came, Lydia had spent hours tossing and turning before falling asleep and now, Stiles is the one with a restless mind…and it's barely 1 AM. It's the third night already since they left Beacon Hills, and Stiles is just as clueless about what to do as he was on the first night.

After catching sight of a clearing through the window, he gets up to go for a short walk, thinking almost too late about leaving a note for Lydia in case she wakes up.

There are so many things they need to figure out that he doesn't even know where they should start. Millie had pointed out their exact localization on a map. They are too far away from the lake house to walk there. Even if they can retrieve the Jeep, Stiles isn't even sure he will be able to fix it, which means they would have to abandon it again. That thought wrenches his heart.

Someone could drive them to the nearest city, but it wouldn't solve the biggest issue: Lydia.

Stiles still remembers how detached she had looked when she had handed him the food she had stolen.

Because of him.

He is destroying her, and he despises himself for it. He knows what he has to do. He has to convince her to drive back to Beacon Hills, let the Ghost Riders take him, and hope she can remember him. But before that happens, he has to tell her…

The sound of his loud sigh makes him come back to reality. That's when he hears her calling his name.

"Stiles!" He turns around and sees Lydia running towards him and waving her arms in the air, a scared look imprinted on her face. "Stiles, behind you!"

He barely has the time to look in the other direction when he feels something heavy crashing into his body and throwing him on the ground. Lydia's scream pierces through his ears and makes the thing above him jump in a start and lean on his left shoulder. Before it eventually releases his body, Stiles hears his bone crack and can't muffle his own scream.

"Stiles, are you alright?"

He hears Lydia's hurried footsteps reverberating in the ground. Spitting out some blades of grass, he rolls his entire body over to face her. She must have just had enough time to grab the large woolen stole Millie had given her because it's the first thing he feels against his skin when she rushes to kneel beside him. It all happened so fast that Stiles didn't have time to register anything, but now, the pain starts to spread everywhere. He chooses to focus on something that doesn't hurt, so he looks at Lydia. He concentrates on her gentle hands against his body as she looks for wounds. He looks at her hair and the stole she is wearing tickling against his skin. It's the exact same shade as her eyes in the moonlight, and she's so beautiful he thinks it could make him forget about the pain.

"Stiles?" she repeats with worry in her voice, and he realizes he hasn't answered her yet.

"That… That color really looks good on you…" he says, reaching for the fabric brushing his face.

Lydia can't muffle her laugh, making Stiles smile, but he winces as he tries to move, and the smile leaves her face.

"Stiles, I was so scared! I heard you leave and…I saw you through the window and the…" She has to stop herself to hide the tears starting to well up in her eyes, so Stiles takes her hands in his and gestures her to come closer. Not waiting for him to ask, she lays beside him on the grass, letting a few tears roll freely and quietly down her cheeks until she can breathe normally. Stiles can't move much, but he manages to turn on his right side so they can look at each other.

He feels her fingers on his face. "Are you alright?" she sniffs, and he nods. "His eyes were blue, so he wasn't an Alpha… He couldn't have turned you, right? He didn't bite you?"

Shaking his head, he takes her fingers in his hand. "No, he just… pushed me down."

The absurdity of that sentence freezes them both for a few seconds before they start laughing, a bubbling laughter that spreads until it reaches their hands. Hands that can't seem to leave each other's skin.

"I got so scared," Lydia repeats while wiping both her cheeks and Stiles's. "What were you doing out here?"

"I'm sorry, I wanted—" He tries to sit up, but has to muffle a cry of pain as he leans on his left arm and collapses again on his back.

Lydia leans over him. "What's wrong?" She pulls up the sleeve of his tee shirt up to reveal a huge bruise. "Stiles, you're hurt…"

Her voice is a soft whisper that reaches his ears at the same time her cold fingers are grazing his skin, caressing as tenderly as if he was made out of more than flesh and bones. He could let himself drown in that sensation, but Lydia is trying to hold back her tears from the tip of her quivering lips and Stiles can't stand to see her like that.

He brings his fingers to her face, caressing her cheek with the same tenderness she used, and lets his thumb linger on her lower lip until she releases it from her teeth. "Lyds, I swear, I'm fine…"

She lies back beside him and takes his hand in hers and absently plays with his fingers. "I… I should have reacted sooner. I could feel something was wrong before I fell asleep, and I didn't do anything…"

Her voice is now barely a whisper, and her eyes are fixed on some invisible point between the blades of grass. She looks so small and frail that Stiles doesn't feel anything other than the urge to protect her and an anger towards anything and anyone who would make her feel like that. The feeling is strong enough to help him forget about his pain, giving him the strength to get closer to her and lift her chin. The world doesn't deserve her. Her or her eyes that would put any star to shame, or her mind that doesn't know the limits of imagination, or her heart. A heart big enough to contain the entire Earth.

"You saved me, Lydia. I was so lost in my own thoughts that he would have killed me if it wasn't for you."

His left hand joined his right one around her face.

"But you're hurt," she resumes. Stiles can still feel her jaw clenching as it's trying to contain more sobs. What had he done to deserve the tears of the most perfect human being?

"But I'll live…"

Lydia nods and bites her lips, laying her hands over his and seeming to find some stability in this contact.

"What were you thinking about?"

The question overwhelms Stiles with tiredness and sadness, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to answer her, how to find the right words to explain what has been denying him rest for three days.

"Stiles, please talk to me." Her pleading voice compels him to open his eyes.

"I shouldn't have…" Catching her hands and laying them over his chest, he locks his eyes into her stare. Something in the way she frowns tells him she already knows what he wants to say…and that she won't accept it. "I shouldn't have dragged you with me in this… I have no idea… What are we gonna do? We're not gonna run until the end of the world—"

"Stiles," she cuts him off, "first of all, you didn't drag me with you. I'm here because I want to be here with you." She leans closer to him with something looking like endless hope in her eyes. "And why not run until the end of the world?" Her shy smile makes him almost forget about why it would be wrong.

"Lydia…"

"I know, I know…" she sighs, "I just… I don't like your conclusions."

Stiles can't stop a bubble of warmth from forming in his stomach before spreading everywhere in his body and bursting out in a smile. It's so quick and intense that he feels his cheeks flushing and a small laugh escaping his breath.

"I haven't told you anything yet…"

She grins too, tightening her grip on his hands, but rolling her eyes for good measure. "Come on, you don't have to. You've been ready to let the Ghost Riders take you ever since that first night."

As she says those last words, she bends her head and her voice breaks a little. In those few seconds, something shifts inside of Stiles. Something that spreads hope inside of him, strengthening his resolves as much as it breaks his heart. The proof is there, in her eyes that can't seem to stay away from his own for too long: she probably loves him as much as he loves her.

It's not the first time such a thought crosses his uncredulous mind, but this time is different because it's not ingrained in his head. It almost seems like it's growing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, taking its roots in his heart that beats faster and stronger to hasten its growth so it can reach his stomach, joining the butterflies that are flapping their colorful wings at each of her smiles.

Lydia loves him. Maybe he has always known that. Maybe his body has always known, welcoming her silent love and hiding it somewhere safe and warm to help it mature on its own time. Her love grew inside of him. It's there – in him. She gave him that part of her, over and over again, willingly surrendering to him a little of her heart, a little of her soul because she knew he would take care of it.

Lydia loves him, and if he can confess his love to her, Stiles thinks there's a possibility she will remember him because of it. Because she'll notice there's a part of herself that is gone with him. It's mind blowing. Stiles doesn't know if he's allowed to have such thoughts, if he's allowed to think so highly about himself. He has already done that, thought too much of himself with the Nogitsune and if he hadn't been so afraid to die, then maybe…

But Lydia is looking at him as if she knows exactly what he is thinking and she looks like she's torn between hurt and anger, so he stops thinking about death and oblivion.

Instead, he focuses on Lydia and in those tiny parts of her living inside of him, taking roots and growing the most beautiful flowers he has ever seen. He doesn't know their colors yet, but they are already starting to blossom and it's mesmerizing. He knows that because his stomach and his entire body are vibrating with the rustling of spring. There are a dozen birds somewhere in purple trees waiting for those small flowers to blossom under the blue sky and the soft sun. They sing and they jump from one branch to another, bringing life back into the tree, into him.

Before his mind can form a coherent thought, Lydia resumes. "We're gonna figure it out, Stiles. I… I agree that running away until the end of time isn't the solution, but I can protect you. I know it. I feel it… You can't just give up like that…"

She's giving him a pleading stare, and Stiles can't help his lips from drawing a genuine smile because her words sound like the lyrics of a song he used to sing for her. And he knows what other words they hide.

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself like that," she continues. "It's too dangerous and unpredictable. They won't catch you if I'm near you. As long I don't see them, it's protecting you for now… Millie offered me to give us some money." Stiles doesn't see the sudden flush on Lydia's cheeks, but he can guess it from the way she nibbles at her lips and averts her eyes. "She thinks we ran away to escape our parents who won't let us get married…" She stops a few seconds and as she slowly lifts her eyes to look at him again, Stiles feels his entire face warm up and neither of them has the strength or will to hold back the laugh escaping their breaths.

"I didn't know what to answer," she continues, sounding defensive, "and obviously I couldn't tell the truth, so I didn't say anything…"

Stiles nods, trying to not smile too much at her tone. He swallows his words because Lydia is fidgeting with her fingers around his, and he wants to see more of that version of Lydia.

"Anyway. With that money, we could go to the lake house like we planned. Then we could rest before we figure out the rest. The lake out is made out of mountain ash. It could protect us against them. I swear…we can find a solution. We just have to stay together…"

Her eyes are begging him to understand and he does. He hears her loud and clear. He wants that – he wants to make her vision come true, he wants to give her everything she wants, but he knows it's not the right thing to do, so he heaves a silent sigh.

He is about to reply something when she opens her mouth again and her last words almost burst his reluctance into a shower of confetti, "Remember how you saved my life? Over and over again? Let me save yours this time… I can't help you if you let them…" her voice breaks and without lifting her eyes she adds, "Teamwork, remember?"

Those words barely make a sound when she says them, but they are filled with something so bright that they still find some place where they can echo in Stiles, warming him up and igniting a fire that spreads shivers all over his body.

"It wouldn't be the first time you saved my life, you know," he eventually manages to utter in a whisper that he tries to fill with as much light as he can.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, smiling. There's nothing else to say, they both know that. Maybe in a way, Lydia has understood what his silence means, but has decided that she wouldn't let him have it this way. Stiles doesn't know how to feel about that because he doesn't want to let the darkness take him. Not again. He wants to stay with her. He needs more time…

"Come on," says Lydia after a few seconds as she tentatively kisses his cheek without meeting his eyes. "Let's take care of your shoulder." She stands up and reaches out to him to help him stand.

He leans on her, wincing as he lets her lead him to their room. As they walk in silence, Stiles feels something tugging in his stomach. Something warning him that a storm is about to come.

With a tightened chest and a sore heart, he understands that it has to be tonight.

Because there's no such thing as having more time.

Because it's now, or never.

Because it's her. Because it's Lydia, and he was born to love her – to give her all the love she needs, in whatever form it should take…

Even if it means embracing the darkness once more.