This was harder to write than I though, but I hope you guys enjoy it! It might be the last chapter but I'm not sure yet (I'm open to suggestions!)
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf
It wasn't as dark as before, or as cold. There was something enfolding his body softly, making him feel well, spreading a comfortable sensation through his body; His head was resting on a foreign pillow, maybe that was why he woke up. It was odd he was able to sleep without his own pillow in the first place.
It took a while for Stiles to notice something warm on his hand, as if someone was holding it. He turned his head slowly, his neck felt rusty. There was Scott, leaning on his bed, sleeping and drooling all over his sheets, while holding his freaking hand.
"I know I called you brother but-" Stiles started, chuckling sooner than he ever thought he would, noticing his throat was considerably sore.
His friend nearly jumped at the sound of his voice and he truly hoped it was out of surprise, not fear. Scott's eyes widened and then he gave Stiles his sincerest, most relieved smile. Stiles couldn't see his own face but he assumed he was smiling too, though more broken and vulnerable than he wanted.
Scott put his arms around him, holding him so tightly Stiles was sure he forgot to turn off his werewolf abilities. Instead of complaining, or saying he missed him, or that he was sorry, he just hugged him back as tightly. They stood in silence. Stiles buried his face in Scott's shoulder not even caring that he couldn't breathe like that. He was alive; he was alive and free, Scott closed his eyes in relief. Of all the people he couldn't lose, of all people-
"I should go get my mom" he said shakily "she told me to call her if you woke up" he explained as he let go of Stiles; rubbing his eyes, trying to hide the tears.
"Wait. Tell me what happened." Stiles stopped him, his voice raspy and weaker than usual, "Did Lydia do it?"
Scott's eyebrows shot up, "How- How do you know? Do you remember anything?"
"I left her a message." he explained, while playing with the hem of his sheet. During his rare moments of consciousness, he managed to frame that Nemeton drawing and put a mistletoe leaf in her locker, wishing she'd in some way understand it all went back to the sacrifice. Stiles realized he needed to be a sacrifice again to close that freaking door inside his mind; he needed mistletoes and death. He needed someone to pull him back again, his tether. He needed her.
"I didn't" Stiles continued, taking a deep breath" I didn't have much time to call your or to think really, I'm sorry I-"
"It's okay" Scott interrupted, making his newly rescued friend face him "The only thing that matters is that you're safe, that all of this is over." Stiles tightened his jaw, fighting a smile he didn't deserve to feel. But Scott smiled," Besides, I wouldn't be able to save you anyway. She was the one who had to save you, right?" Stiles nodded as his friend continued "coup de foudre and all"
Stiles scrunched his eyebrows and stopped nodding, "I'm sorry, what?" he asked and then cleared his throat; what he'd give for a glass of water.
The werewolf send him his typical confused expression "I thought that's why Lydia had to save you? Wasn't that why you sent the message to her, Coup de foudre?"
"Coup the who-?" Stiles asked again, making an exaggerated "u" with his lips.
His best friend sighed "Bolt of lightning? Love at first sight? Does it ring any bells? That was why it had to be Lydia' he started whispering, "she's…you know…Love at first sight".
Stiles twitched one of his eyes before answering, "No it does not ring any bells. And I knew who Lydia was before third grade, I guess that can't be qualified as love at first sight." He finished the phrase with difficulty.
"Wha-" Scott was about to ask.
"It was me." they turned their heads to Lydia, who was suddenly at the door. She was wearing what Stiles recognized as his father's sheriff jacket over a flowery dress. Stiles opened his mouth in surprise; he didn't even know she was at the hospital, he didn't even think she would be. Lydia walked towards them slowly, barefoot and with watery green eyes.
"I.." her eyes looked out of focus like they often would" I thought you were cute when we first met." She explained nonchalantly, before pressing her lips together and looking at him.
"What?" Stiles whispered, "How- I mean wha-"
Lydia rolled her still wet eyes and put her hands on his hips "It was just a moment, okay? You don't need to look at me like that." She said hastily without even seeing said look" I just… I saw you there in the hospital, sitting and waiting with your head on your hands and I thought you looked cute and that was it. "She stared at him, waiting for his reaction and Stiles just stared back for a moment before chuckling.
"Lydia, we knew each other before that. We were on the same school for years."
"I didn't know that!" she shrieked and Stiles started full-blown laughing, "What?!" she yelled.
Scott, at this point, was just looking back and forth between the two of them." I think I'll get my mom now," he stated before leaving even though he was pretty sure his friends wouldn't hear anything but each other.
"It's just… of course Lydia Martin wouldn't notice all the plebeians." He smiled and the girl noticed he wasn't mad or frustrated, even a little bit. He knew her so well and he wasn't disappointed at her. However, she was.
She sent him a sad smile and he sensed something was wrong.
Lydia sat on his bed and looked at her hands; she fiddled with her fingers trying to forget about her burning throat and heavy conscience; trying to overlook Stiles' raspy voice and bruised neck, thanks to her. If only she had found him sooner, if she had focused before.
She would have known why she thought Stiles was at the eichen house; she would have listened to all the noises in her head and saved him before the nogitsune took over. Not to mention other things she's done to him over the years.
Killing Stiles was the most terrifying experience of her life, definitely scarier than being attacked by Peter, scarier than werewolves, darachs, foxes and the noises in her head. Not because she could be hurt or damaged, not because she could die, not because she could lose her mind; it was because of Stiles, it was all because of him. Sure, she just couldn't lose anyone in her life and losing him would devastate her, break her for good. Making everyone lose him too because of her mistakes would be equally unbearable. But, Stiles, he couldn't, he just couldn't die.
Definitely not because of her, in any sense of that phrase.
She wanted to tell him she was sorry, she just needed him to know how deeply sorry she was for not saving him sooner. She just wanted him to know she wishes she had never ignored him, she wishes she hadn't taken him for granted. Too many people had done it too many times, because Stiles was always there, Stiles was always faithfully around and they forgot. How could they forget? Stiles was breakable and defenseless, Stiles was human and Stiles was Stiles. He could be taken away at any time and they'd be doomed without him; each one of the pack would be lost in one sense or another and Lydia, in all of them.
She rested one hand on his bed while staring at her legs. Stiles looked at her expression, her head down and furrowed forehead, wishing she'd just look at him. He hated it when Lydia got lost in her own world only to come back depressed and shattered. He didn't know why she felt so miserable but he did know she never should be.
He placed his hand on top of hers shamelessly, undoubtedly. Lydia looked at their hands in surprise, Stiles didn't say anything. He just looked at her looking at them. If there was one thing pure void wouldn't understand it was this, if there was one thing darkness itself wouldn't plan on defeating it was this, if there was one thing pain, strife and chaos didn't think could outfox them, it was this. Them.
If her relationship with Stiles had started in any other way he would have probably died, he'd be lost forever in the nogitsune's hands, but it didn't. She met him one day at the hospital, and for that split first second she saw him she felt something. There was no denying or mistaking, as short-lived as it was, it still happened. Coup de foudre. No chaos, strife or pain involved. It was as uncomplicated and true as a silly crush can be. It was poison to the disordered and malicious; it was venom to a trickster. The nogitsune fed of the uncertainty and agony, that's where his power came from. But he couldn't take any suffering or doubt from her once she focused on that little definite feeling.
It felt like killing a giant with a little rock but it was so obvious, why couldn't they see it before? As unimportant as that feeling could be, as forgettable as it was, nothing could corrupt it, nothing would erase it.
The simple yet undeniable power of human love.
Stiles knew how he had to die and Lydia knew how the nogitsune could die, two sides of the same coin, always. Two people who complemented each other in every possible and random way, always.
If they were any different, together or individually, in the past or in the present, Stiles would be gone. Lydia decided that was how tethers worked, that was what they meant. With three words, Lydia would save his life; without any word, Stiles would ease her pain.
Lydia caught herself smiling at their hands, overflowed by moments instead of her depressing regrets. She intertwined their fingers and looked at Stiles, who was smiling at her tenderly; he was thinking about that day too. Lydia laughed softly and looked away, feeling strangely self-conscious; he chuckled and shook his head; never letting go of each other's hands.
"I'm sorry", she said. Lydia couldn't imagine her life without her mom, and that cute little boy looked so sad and alone; so alone.
"Where is your dad?" she inquired nosy as ever.
"Working" he mumbled grumpily, putting her head in his hands and still refusing to face her. It annoyed petite Lydia, noteworthy as she always was, so she decided to stop talking to the boy.
As she was searching for her mother's lipstick (which she had promised to let Lydia wear, if she behaved herself at the hospital), Lydia heard a scream. It wasn't like in the movies, or when her mother would find a cockroach at the living room; it was creepy and strange. It made Lydia want to scream too, but she was brave so she just grabbed the arms on the chair. It didn't stop, it would never stop. Those screams that should make her have nightmares for the rest of the week. She looked at the boy, wondering if he was okay and if she was just being a chicken.
His eyes were blank, though. He was looking at nowhere in particular, clenching his jaw and grabbing the arm on his own chair. Doctors and nurses run to the room where that woman was and he looked at them, he was angry with them; they wouldn't let him be with her, not when he wanted to, not all the time, especially not when she was like that; screaming, kicking and hurting.
Lydia couldn't possibly know that, he didn't make much sense to her at that moment, but somehow she knew. When she looked at him, she knew who the woman was.
Stiles' eyes were wet and he looked down again, Lydia grabbed his hand.
He looked over at her in surprise then she gave him a compassionate, knowing smile. His eyes softened and he released the breath he was holding, Stiles nodded at her and they stayed like that until the screams stopped.
Lydia didn't think much about that day in the following weeks or months. There was plenty to take in and not enough time, or age. There were her parents that suddenly decided to live in different houses, crudely asking her to choose one of them; her life, which became a never-ending battlefield between her mom, her dad and herself- where to take her, what to teach her, what should she dress, who should she talk to. On the top of that, she would always be Lydia: flawless student, remarkable leader, always surrounded by beautiful and self-entitled people.
Stiles didn't forget, he never could. He had the biggest crush on her but so did other boys and Lydia wasn't interested in that back then. Besides, just because she held his hand once, it didn't mean they were friends. She had her own friends.
For too many years, Stiles was just that boy who would sometimes smile or wave at her occasionally, the weird skinny kid who sometimes stared too much. Lydia didn't mind, she was used to that, people stared and smiled at her all the time. However, things changed, as they always do.
There was too much disappointment and loneliness in her. Too many issues she never felt like dealing with, too many people who weren't there for her; too many doubts about her future and herself. Then the supernatural came into their lives and it brought him back to hers. Stiles with his devotion and his dorkiness, Stiles with his sarcasm and his childish crush on her. But Stiles wasn't a child anymore.
He didn't see a beautiful, popular girl; he didn't see a genius, or even a disturbed person as she became later; she wasn't his prize to win or a challenge to conquer, she wasn't the unreachable woman he would always dream about nor she was the little girl who held his hand. Lydia had no idea what Stiles saw in her, but he always saw too much.
Well, Lydia wasn't a child anymore either. Stiles wasn't someone she could ignore, he wasn't that weird kid who didn't belong, he wasn't the clever guy who would never shut up, she didn't put her friends before him because he was her friend; he was her best friend. And she wishes she could point out every single thing that made Stiles so indispensable in this world but there were too many; and she saw too much.
"Do you guys want me to come back later?" Melissa's voice brought them back, making them realize they've stared at each other for some time. They looked at her and released each other's hands, nervously mumbling unintelligible words until Lydia said audibly "I'll wait in the hallway."
Stiles couldn't stop staring at the open door that lead to that hallway, there was something he still needed to say to her.
Melissa put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "I just need to-"
"Can, can I do something first? "He interrupted her, staring at the door then looking at her. Melissa blinked twice, but nodded.
He jumped out of bed and sprinted to the hallway. "Lydia!" he called and she turned around.
Stiles did not know how she had saved him or how long she had been at the hospital, but he did know that whatever she did cost her a lot; and granted him the same. He felt his eyes water while he scratched his head. "I...I just wanted to say thank you." he looked at her, feeling ashamed. His lips were trembling and a tear rolled down his cheek. She stared back at him and something flickered in her eyes, as if a switch had turned behind them.
Maybe seeing Stiles standing there crying made everything too real and decisive for her; there he was made of skin, bones, sarcasm and openness. And there she was, just as made of skin and bones, and gratitude. Lydia could literally cry out of happiness that he was alive, and he had the audacity to cry for her, with her, to her.
She marched towards where he was, her eyes all wide and vulnerable. She stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him full on the lips. Stiles would have kept his eyes open; he would have stood still; he would have been shocked, if it wasn't so logical. She grabbed his shirt when he kissed her back, he held her waist and they deepened their kiss never minding that they were at the hospital.
