Thank you so much for your reviews! You're all total sweeties and if I could give each of you a cookie I would, but you'll have to settle for a new chapter instead. Your response truly makes all the difference and it's so incredible to get feedback from you guys!

Also, I just want to warn you guys, if you're especially sensitive this fic may not be for you, as it'll get pretty dark at some point and the material may get a bit heavy. It will probably stay within the T rating unless I'm otherwise convinced it needs to get darker.

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In case you were wondering, each chapter's title derives from the title of the song that inspired its writing.

Break/Hands

Chapter 1

If there was any particular feeling Lydia hated most, it was the feeling of being weak. To be afraid, to beg for mercy, to have others sympathize for her. It was strange, because these days, she couldn't seem to get enough of that feeling. It made her loathe herself, and that felt necessary right now. The pain was the only thing that was real anymore, and Lydia knew she deserved it. She was guilty of so many things, unpunished for so many horrible things she'd done; like letting her best friend die. Knowing it was going to happen, trying to warn her friends but not obvious enough. If she'd just been a little clearer…

"Lydia, are you even listening to me?" She'd almost entirely forgotten that Kira was in her room.

Lydia shook herself out of her stupor. "What?"

"I swear, your head is always up in the clouds." Kira went back to playing with Lydia's green nail polish, running the wet brush along her pinky finger. She didn't even see the annoyed twist of Lydia's lips.

Her head was most certainly not in the clouds always, in fact, it was actually a new thing. She didn't expect Kira to realize that, as she hadn't been around all that long. The only people that should be realizing something was off about her hadn't an idea.

Of course, Lydia didn't bother saying as much. She genuinely liked Kira, but it wasn't like with Allison. It would never be like with Allison.

"Hey, what's this?" Kira asked curiously. "For Lydia?"

Lydia's head shot up, but she already knew what she was going to see before it did.

Kira shook the box, a heaviness cluttering around inside. "Is this a present from a guy?" Suddenly, Kira was entirely interested. "Who is he and can I open it!?" She rocked the bed excitedly, prepared to pull off the lid once Lydia gave her permission.

"No!" Lydia sprung up from her spot on the floor, prying the box from Kira's fingers and holding it to her chest protectively. They shared an intense gaze, Kira's shocked and offended while Lydia's was defensive and panicked.

There was no time for Kira to ask what the hell that was about because Scott had walked through the door, breaking the stillness of the room and oblivious to the tension that it just held.

"You ladies ready to go?" He was driving them to school today, but upon arriving at his friend's, realized he desperately needed to empty his bladder. While the girls hung out in Lydia's bedroom he took his sweet time in the bathroom, ultimately going to make them late for school.

Kira cleared her throat, eyes shuddering away from Lydia's, "Are we scooping up Malia?" She pulled at the threading of her long-sleeves, "She stole Donnie Russo's sandwich on the bus last time… I don't think she's ready to handle that 10 minute ride on her own."

"Stiles will take her," Scott relayed in the most obvious fashion he could seem to muster.

Lydia hid her grumble of disappointment. If it was so evident to Scott that Stiles would be looking after Malia, maybe their secret "thing" wasn't such a secret after all. Knowing their very close friendship, it made sense that Stiles would tell Scott about his romantic feelings for the werecoyote. She'd never be connected with them the way they were with each other.

Remaining silent as she followed them out to Scott's car, her thoughts took her places far away from here and now. She'd always been someone with a lengthy train of thought, one that could wind and tangle into any complex jumble of word salad, but it didn't used to take her such dreary places. Her head was in a much darker room now, small and cramped and dark, like running your hands alone the cement walls of a cellar trying to find a light switch. Something to turn on the lights, to spark something within her that captivated her interest in anything that she could cherish that would appreciate her in the same way. She just wanted to feel wanted again, to feel like she was actually grounded on this plane and not caught in the clock tower that was her brain.

Lydia saw Stiles for the first time that day when she was fetching her science and history books from her locker. He was leaning his left side against the locker next to Malia's, where the werecoyote was getting her own things. He had a sly smirk on his lips, trailing his knuckles up and down Malia's left arm flirtatiously. She giggled lightly, glancing toward him appreciative of his ministrations.

Feeling her eyes water, Lydia forced herself to look away. She felt completely ridiculous. This was Stiles Stilinski and he was no Romeo. Then again, Romeo wasn't a very good example. He was pretty much a wimp, undeserving of his name being used as a comparison to real men… Maybe Stiles was Romeo.

Her manicured nails paused on the metal edging of her locker's door as she was consumed by her thoughts for the umpteenth time that morning. If she was like this already, she was surely going to be missing a few lessons today.

Daring to take one more look at Stiles and Malia, her heart lurched in her chest and her breath caught in her throat when she saw they were both already staring at her, quietly whispering as if they were talking about her. Suddenly self-conscious, Lydia focused her eyes on the contents of her locker without really seeing what was there. She needed to regain control of the situation, as it had already been stolen away. Her face was burning in humiliation, why were they talking about her?

She felt a rush of air, instinct telling her that someone was behind her. Lydia didn't have to turn around to know it was the boy she was trying so hard to let go of. A sense of foreboding filled her gut, expecting him to accuse her of something or say something against her. She wasn't sure why she thought he'd put her down, but the watchful glint in their eyes while he and Malia were whispering was far from reassuring. Lydia slowly turned to face him, forcing a half-assed smile.

"Hey," he greeted, loosely hanging onto two notebooks. "Have you seen Scott?"

"Scott?" She choked, having anticipated this to go differently. How could he go from looking so intense to so nonchalant? He switched facades like no other.

Stiles' eyebrows lowered, befuddled by the disoriented girl. "Yeah… Scott." He raises his right hand to hold flatly beside his head. "About 'ye high, always has a kicked puppy dog look in his eyes."

"Oh," she played along carefully. "That Scott," Lydia tapped her chin, using it as a moment to calm her nerves and get her thoughts back on track. "He drove me to school this morning, but I haven't seen him since."

"Probably in the broom closet with Kira," Stiles' lips upturned, boring his eyes into Lydia's, perverse possibilities filling the area. He waited for her to understand what he meant.

"You're disgusting, Scott wouldn't do that."

"Oh, he would," Stiles told her firmly, confidence resonating from his entire being. "And he has."

"I do not need to know this…" Lydia cupped her ears, deafening herself from Stiles' graphic descriptions of the times their friend was previously in there. She knew he was talking about Allison, but was grateful that he didn't use her name.

"What the fuck did you say to me!?" A masculine voice boomed from nearby, immediately drawing the attention of the entire hall.

"Oh shit," Stiles muttered as he watched the scene unfold. He could plainly see Beacon Hills jock Blake Locke shoving at an entirely new guy that he'd never seen before, which was strange considering the smallness of their high school. The only logical explanation was that he was new. It looked like he wasn't making any friends either, as one of the biggest bullies in the school was already accusing him of offending his status as king of the high school hierarchy.

Stiles felt bad for the other boy and even considered possibly maybe stepping in, but was completely caught off guard with how well the new student was taking Blake's aggressive behavior. He was just standing there, entirely bored, his hands in his pockets as he peered uninterested at the bulky muscled teen from under his eyelashes.

Lydia was having her own crisis, a prickling running up and down her arms and legs as recognition hit her full force. It was the boy from the theater; he was here at Beacon Hills High. Was he new? Had she just never noticed him? None of that really mattered right now, because he was about to be an extremely flattened new student.

Blake shoved the other teen, trying to get him to hit first, "Come on fight me, punk! You're not gonna disrespect me, fight me!" His short sleeves rode up his shoulders, arms flexing as his fists raveled in his victim's shirt.

"Don't touch me," the quieter crystal-eyed teen mumbled, only loud enough for Blake to hear. The rest of the hall watched curiously, cheering Blake on as the intensity of the situation arose. A few passer-by's shook their heads in disapproval, heading for the nearest classroom to alert a teacher.

"Are you a little pussy?" The bully whispered, his onion breath shadowing his victim's face, though he did not react.

"I said–," in one quick flush of motion, the victim turned the situation on its head as he veered them both against the locker, slamming his aggressor's face against the metal combination lock and allowing it to cut the bridge of his nose. He slammed his head one last time before allowing him to drop to the tile half-conscious, pressing his palm flat against his face. "Don't TOUCH me." He spat at Blake's still form as he rose, satisfaction eating him alive.

"Mr. Easley!" A male teacher screeched, storming through the crowd of fleeting teens with his upper lip stiffened at the new student. His eyes widened as he saw Blake on the tile. "Dear god, someone get the nurse now!" He shouted, gaining the attention of another few teachers who immediately went for help. The teacher knelt beside Blake, trying to wake him.

Within a few minutes the hall had mostly cleared, as most students were looking to avoid getting in trouble for cheering the grappling pair on. Stiles and Lydia trailed behind, as she managed to convince him that they should explain that the fight wasn't his fault. He really was only defending himself.

Stiles had bought into it, but Lydia knew why she really wanted to stay behind. Sure, he did need someone to defend his case, but mostly, she just wanted to look into his eyes again and see the desire that was there when she first saw him last night. If she could just recapture that moment, it would make her feel sexy again. And then she could let the stranger go and move on with her life. That's all.

"Stilinski, should I be surprised that you're in the middle of this?" A very annoyed assistant principal demanded, hands on her hips as she narrowed her eyes at the troublesome teen.

"What?" Stiles appeared offended. "I didn't do anything!"

"As shocking as it may be, he's telling the truth," Lydia understood the woman's assumption. "We just wanted to tell you that we saw what happened, and…" she pointed at the teen explaining the situation to police officer, "he is not the responsible one here. Blake attacked him out of nowhere and he was protecting himself."

The assistant principal stood straighter. "Would you be willing to tell that to the police?"

"Please do," another voice chimed in.

Lydia bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. It was him. His voice was sleek and smooth, an attracting sweetness in it that almost sounded trusting. She slapped herself mentally, realizing how trite her thoughts were becoming. She was most certainly not that kind of girl.

He approached the group of people in a friendly way, his right hand gripping the strap of his backpack sling. His jet-black hair was slick under the cheap fluorescents of the hallway, making it appear shiny and gelled. He wore a long-sleeve shirt, mostly grey except for the sleeves, the same shade as his hair. His jeans were baggy and dark, and if it weren't for his lack of makeup or extreme hairstyle, he almost looked like what some might call a Goth.

He was most certainly not Lydia's normal type of guy to go after, but she needed something new in her life. A fresh experience from someone who could be anyone, but nothing else mattered as long as he wanted her. She needed somewhere to just be, she needed company that knew she was there. Lydia chewed on her lower lip as she once again realized the negative turn of her thoughts the moment it happened. Was this what it was like to hate yourself?

Lydia phased back into the conversation, hearing the tail end of whatever the assistant principal was telling the boy whose first name she still didn't know, "…-and we'll see where it goes from there, okay?"

"Completely, thanks Mrs. H." He spoke to her as if he knew her on a personal level, an appreciative smile lifting his face.

"Thank me later when it really comes back to bite me." She gestured to Lydia and Stiles with her index finger. "You better be thanking your lucky stars you made yourself some new friends here, or Blake's parents would certainly press charges." Leaving it at that, the assistant principal made her way back to the police, leading them to her private office. Other than the three teens, the hallway was now bare.

Stiles and Lydia exchanged glances before returning their hard stares to the newcomer.

"I'm Calvin." He extended his hand to whoever would take it. Stiles took it first, offering a friendly shake.

"Stiles, where do you fair from?"

"West Virginia."

"Ever seen the moth man?" Stiles joked.

"Once or twice," Calvin spoke without any indication that he was kidding, his expression solid and still.

Something about not what he said-but the way he said it made Stiles very uncomfortable. He shifted in his position before speaking simply, "Uh... Okay."

Calvin's eyes switched to Lydia, and his eyes sparkled at her sharp intake of breath. "I don't think you said your name."

"It's Lydia." At least she sounded calm.

"The worshipper," he interjected.

Stiles and Lydia shared in their confusion, so Calvin expanded.

"Lydia was a biblical figure; a saint." Calvin's eyes scoped Lydia's form, studying her. "She opened her heart to her god and gave it to him. She worshipped everything that he was and followed through with his plans for her without question. She trusted in him more than herself, because she knew that he knew what was best for her."

It was quiet for a moment, and Stiles wondered if he was the only one who realized how fucking creepy this guy was. Either way, he didn't want to stick around, "Uhh… Lydia, don't we have to go to class?"

"Yeah," she agreed softly, her eyes not leaving Calvin's. His did not leave hers either. Despite deciding to follow Stiles' lead, she did not move a single step.

"So let's go," Stiles asserted, touching her arm to insistently pull her away. He wanted to be anywhere but near the strange new student, as even his blinking was in some way intimidating.

Finally relenting, Lydia tore her eyes away from Calvin's and allowed Stiles to lead her back down the hall.

Once he was sure they could no longer be heard, Stiles' head whipped around to face her. "What the hell was that about?"

"What?" Lydia judgmentally quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

"That guy was a creep show and you were eating it up."

"I think he's sweet," she told him with a shrug.

"Sweet?" He forced her to stop walking, placing a hand on one of her shoulders. "Sweet? Lydia, sweet?"

"Yes, Stiles," she affirmed. "Nice. Friendly. Kind. Sweet." Tossing her hair around to smack against his lips, she sauntered away from him with heavily clicking heels. He was not about to judge her for being attracted to Calvin when he was going to lower himself to Malia's standards. There was no way in hell he got to be a hypocrite about this.

x-x-x

Kira loved kissing Scott. Not only was he so soft and warm, but so caring and loving while he did it. His hand would cup the back of her head; his finger would trail underneath her chin to pull her toward him, where he would then press her upper lip to the center of both of his to trap her there, tracing his tongue lightly along her lips. It drove her crazy when he did that.

"Wait." Kira pulled back for a moment, opening her eyes to see Scott's questioning hers in the dark. "Never mind," She pulled back for more, her boyfriend's eyes not drifting closed as they had every other time she stopped them abruptly.

His kissing was so perfect, but right now she just couldn't get into it. And he could tell.

Scott tugged the string, lighting up the closet with a flickering bulb, "Okay, that's the fourth time you've pulled away in as many minutes. Is something bothering you?" He cupped a hand on her elbow, her hands pressed against his collarbones.

"No," she lied unconvincingly, her eyes circling the closet in avoidance, a tell-all when it came to Kira lies.

"Ki-ra," he sang, telling her that he could see through her excuses.

She dropped her hands pathetically. "Promise you won't tell Lydia."

Scott's neck jumped back in surprise. He thought the issue was Kira-Scott related, not a friend thing. She couldn't kiss him because she was worried about Lydia? "Why? What's going on?" Scott couldn't promise that Lydia wouldn't find out that Kira told him if the girl was in real trouble. He would have to do something about it.

"This shouldn't bother me… But it does." she sighed, "and it's probably nothing, but I can't get it out of my head."

"Just tell me what happened," Scott soothed. It was probably some girl-related spat that she was overthinking. He knew that Kira easily got her feelings hurt, as she was extremely sensitive. He was also aware that Lydia occasionally forgot to use tact when speaking and often offended people with her straightforwardness. It was possible that whatever was on Kira's mind was very minor.

"When you were in her bathroom for like ten years…" Scott blinked. "I found this shoebox of stuff under her bed. There was a little note on it that said 'For Lydia' and I asked her if a guy bought some stuff for her and if I could look at it, you know? I just wanted to see if he bought her any cool things, I really wasn't trying to invade her privacy." Kira frowned. "I just wanted to hear her talk about some awesome new guy in her life. She needs it." Getting off-track, Kira quickly continued her story. "Anyways, she practically ripped the thing from my hands and shouted at me."

"She did?" When Kira nodded in confirmation, he pondered this. It was definitely an extreme reaction, but this was Lydia they were talking about. "I mean…" Scott rubbed the back of his neck as he figured out a way to explain this and cheer her up at the same time. "Lydia's a complicated person." It came out easy and he was proud, but Kira's pouty lower lip and concerned wrinkle in her forehead told him to continue. "She's a bit wacky and kind of freaks out about stuff, but that's just who she is. You really can't take it personally."

"I don't think it was a banshee thing, Scott."

"I don't either! It's really just her personality, I promise." Scott's voice lowered. "And she has been through a lot lately with losing…" he stopped himself from saying her name. "It's been rough."

"I know," Kira whispered. "For all of you."

Scott's head shot up. "It's been hard for you and Malia too, Kira. Don't forget about that, either."

"We weren't close to Allison," Kira answered with regret.

"I didn't mean with Allison. You've both had to adjust to being new to this school, you've had to deal with your powers and learning the truth about your mom and Malia's literally been thrust into a world she barely understands."

Kira's heart swelled with joy, because even through his own pain, he still recognized the fact that she had pain too. He was way too perfect.

They were interrupted by the ringing of the bell.

"I guess we should go now," Scott droned in disappointment.

"It's okay." Kira smiled back at him as she gripped the doorknob. "Same time tomorrow?"

"And at lunch today, just because we didn't get enough kissage this time."

"Okay," Kira said with a laugh, waving at him as she made her way toward her next class.

Stiles appeared beside Scott, judgment written across his face. "kissage, Scott? Really?" He bowed his head at him. "You're really gonna stoop to that level?"

Scott pushed aside his embarrassment, because Stiles just didn't understand. His feelings for Kira ran deeper than shame. "Shut up."

x-x-x-x

Lydia didn't anticipate Scott and Kira's late arrival to the parking lot after school. He was supposed to drive her home, school had ended 20 minutes ago, and he was nowhere in sight. If they show up just for her to find out that Scott and Kira were fooling around under the bleachers somewhere, she was going to pop a gasket.

The rain was beating down violently and Lydia was soaking wet. After sending Scott fifteen texts and calling him seven times, she couldn't wait any longer, so she started walking. If he'd given her some kind of warning, she could have taken the bus or even asked Stiles for a lift; anything other than standing outside in the freezing rain in a small dress, jean jacket and a pair of very destroyed heels. It was minutes later that she was bare footed, and she had realized how cheap the material of her shoes really was.

"I am gonna kill him," Lydia grumbled angrily to herself, tears running down her face as she soaked up the misery surrounding her in this moment. She hugged herself tightly, her feet getting more cut up by the minute. Of course she'd take the path with a rocky sidewalk.

She ignored the jeep that pulled up beside her.

"LYDIA!" Stiles shouted to be heard over the rain. She tossed a glare his way. "Get in!"

"Go to hell!" She snapped. Lydia was not in the mood to deal with the likes of him, even if it meant spending the next fifteen minutes sopping and gloomy. She was determined not to give in.

"What's wrong?" Stiles inched his car forwards, driving along as she walked. He couldn't tell that she was crying in the rain, her makeup smudged by a mixture of foul weather and her own sadness. "Why are you mad at me?" He yelled as the sky thundered.

Lydia shook her head, "Scott forgot about me."

"And I'm here now, stupid!"

The insult did not sit well with her, and she was even more resolute in staying away from him. Stiles and Scott were nothing but trouble for her emotions these days, and she was not going to rely on anyone but herself anymore.

"Come on, Lyds, you don't have any shoes on!" His voice grew impatient. "Please!"

"Just go away Stiles!" Lydia stopped walking, turning toward the open window and approaching it to be heard clearly. Her cheeks puffed out in anger as she ranted, "I don't want you to help me! You suck at helping so stop trying! Leave me alone!"

Stiles sat there for a long moment, staring forward to his windshield. His eyes flickered between there and his lap, his bottom lip extending in anger and a bit of sadness too. His jaw tightened as he made the tough decision, his eyes closing tightly for a brief second.

"I'll see you tomorrow Lydia," he whispered hoarsely, spinning his wheel to the left and high-tailing it out of there.

Somehow, Lydia managed to feel even worse. She was about to fall apart, but another voice disrupted her self-loathing.

"You look lost." Calvin approached her, a thick hoodie protecting his hair and body. "Cold, too. Here." He pulled his hoodie upwards off of his body, revealing a small section of abs that Lydia would have been interested in seeing if she weren't so upset.

Lydia was surprised by his direct course of action, not even asking if she wanted to wear it before pulling it over her shirt like she were a child. She brushed off the strange vibe she got from the movement, grateful for the warmth it provided.

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

Lydia swallowed hard at the repeated question, an unquestionably large lump caught in her throat and she couldn't get rid of it. The tears were impossible to stop now as a sob broke free. "Yeah," she weakly responded, her voice strangled. "I'd like that."