When you're having a panic attack, they tell you that you're supposed to focus on one good thing. Stiles leans forward, gripping the steering wheel with shaky hands, as he struggles to breathe. His heart is pounding so heavy in his chest that he can barely move. He screws his eyes up tight, and clings to a single good thought. And that's what anchors him. Stiles gasps in relief and falls back against his seat, sucking in deep shaky breaths.

He stays slumped in his seat until his heart-rate evens out. Then he sits forward and blinks open his eyes. He's parked just outside the high school, and the only other car parked in the lot is Malia's. She often comes here to run the track at night. Stiles flexes his fingers on the wheel to reassure himself, then climbs out of the Jeep.

The high school is dark and hollow tonight, and the only lights on the property are coming from the floodlights on the field. Stiles trudges his way across the lawn and heads toward them.

He spots her near the far end of the track. Stiles stops just out of her sight and leans against a railing on the bleachers. He can't help smiling as he watches her round the track. Malia is never more confident than when she's doing something physical. She moves with such a fluid and animal grace, that he can't help but envy.

He feels a little pang in his chest. As he thinks of all the times she's showed up at his door after a run, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She was always so light on her feet and playful after a run, almost giddy. And her enthusiasm was contagious. He misses that. Misses how she would just show up at his door, or climb in through his window. How she'd just grab him and kiss him because she was happy and she wanted to share it.

Stiles swallows down a lump in his throat. And now she doesn't remember any of it. There's a sinking in his chest as he realizes something.

He's not her first kiss anymore…he's not her first boyfriend…not her first date…not her first time…somebody else gets to be that for her now.

And that hurts like hell. But what's worse is knowing how they left things. At least with everyone else, he knows that they knew how he felt about them. But he'd pushed Malia away, and made her doubt his feelings.

And even when they had started talking again, a lot had been left uncertain between them. They still hadn't talked about their breakup or how they felt about each other. Stiles wanted to, but he didn't want to make things worse between them. But he should have tried. He should have apologized. He should have made sure she knew how he felt - she deserved that much form him.

But honestly, the way he felt about her kind of scared the hell out of him. The only girl he had ever had serious feeling for before Malia, barely knew he existed. And there is a certain degree of security that came with that. Even if he was hopeful, he always sort of always knew what to expect from Lydia.

But Malia was different, she was in it with him, and that meant that now he had something to lose. Everything with them happened sort of fast and out of order. And he didn't fall in love with her all at once, his feelings for her sort of crept up on him. But when he did fall – he fell hard. He fell for the understanding in her eyes, for the way she kissed without holding back, for the way she smiled at him when they were alone, he fell for the gentleness and warmth that only he got to see. Having someone care about him the way Malia did it made him feel safe in a way nothing ever had before. But it also scared him to know that he could lose that. Lose her.

His eyes follow her with a deep longing. He can't take that he made her doubt him like that. If he could make one thing right – it would be this. There's so much he wants to say to her but even if he did, she wouldn't remember it in the morning. With one final look, he turns away. At least he got to see her one last time.

"What's wrong with you?" an impatient voice demands from behind him. Startled, Stiles spins around to find Malia stopped on the track, staring at him expectantly. He can't help letting out a huff of laughter at her directness.

"What makes you think something's wrong with me?" he asks with a smirk. Her eyes rake over him warily, before flitting back to his eyes.

"Your heart's beating too fast." she accuses.

Stiles rubs at his brow, "Yeah, sometimes I get these panic attacks-"

Her eyes widen. "Are you having one now?"

"No. Not exactly…"

Malia wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Well, then pick somewhere else to skulk. You're distracting me."

Stiles chuckles and rubs at the back of his neck. "Actually, I kind of need to talk to you."

Malia cocks an eyebrow. "About what?" she asks as she begins stretching her calf muscle.

Stiles ducks his head, "I um—I owe you an apology."

Malia snorts. "We've never met."

Stiles clears his throat and meets her eyes. "You'd be surprised..."

Malia suddenly stops stretching and blows out a breath. "O.K. We're done here." she says as she moves off the track. She quickly shoulders her backpack and starts walking briskly past him.

Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down, as she walks away.

"Your dad calls you, Spitfire." he blurts out, and Malia stops in her tracks. "But uh…I'm pretty sure you hate the nickname." he says sheepishly, his foot kicking at the dirt. "I tried to call you it once and you almost broke my thumb." He casts a sideways glance at her, and notices that she's half turned toward him, her posture still wary. "You're always cold but you can never sleep unless the windows are open." He clears his throat and looks down. "Crowds make you nervous. You like salt on cantaloupe. You hate wearing shoes. You cheat at cards. You said you liked the Star Wars movies but I could tell that you didn't. The backs of your knees are ticklish. You have an apple-shaped birthmark on the small of your back." His eyes meet hers across the field, and a rueful smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You talk in your sleep."

Malia is eerily still for a long moment. Then without warning she strides toward him. Stiles holds his ground, even as she grabs a handful of his shirt and flashes her eyes at him.

"Who are you? And how do you know all that?" she growls.

"It's kind of hard to explain." he admits.

"Try." she grits through her teeth.

Stiles licks his lips. "You know how a lot of weird supernatural things go down in this town?"

Malia considers this for a moment, then reluctantly nods.

"Well, something like that happened to me. And now it's like I've been erased. No one remembers me."

Malia tilts her head, listening to the pace of his heart for a moment. Then she releases his shirt and her searing blue eyes fade back into a rich caramel brown. "You aren't lying." she asserts, stepping back from him. But her eyes are still far from friendly.

He's running out of time. The wild hunt rides in the darkest hours. And it's nearly midnight.

Malia shifts back on her heels. "If you're in trouble with something supernatural. Then I know some people who can help you." she offers.

Stiles gives her a sad smile. "It's too late for that." he whispers. "I just needed to see you one last time."

Malia tilts her head, her eyes softening. "How did you know all that stuff about me?"

His mouth does dry. "I uh...I used to be your boyfriend."

Her eyelashes flutter at that, confused.

"I don't have a lot of time, here. And there's something I just need you to know." Stiles clears his throat. It's now or never, Stilinski.

"I-I love you." he whispers shakily. "I should have told you. I should have told you hundreds of times and I never did." He says, regretfully. "And I'm sorry for how I acted. I pushed you away when all you were trying to do was help me. I should have made thing right...I should've fought for you when I had the chance. I was an idiot and I'm sorry. And I know it doesn't mean anything now but—I just wanted you to know that you deserved better from me." He says, holding her eyes. He needed to tell her to her face...even if it only just this once. He prays that somewhere deep down she hears him.

Malia is watching him, and there is a gentleness in her eyes that makes him ache. But she doesn't know him anymore. Tears prickle in his eyes and he swallows hard, dropping his head. Being a werecoyote makes her sensitive to emotions. She can sense his anguish and it pulls at an instinct within her. She tentatively reaches up and lifts his chin. And his breath catches in his throat.

"Hey, It's gonna be O.K." she soothes, "We're gonna figure this out."

A thrill courses through him at her gentle touch. He's hyper-aware of her close proximity, he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. He hasn't kissed her in months. He's not her first kiss, not anymore...some other guy is going to take his place. And the thought gnaws at something deep inside him. And he just can't let it go.

So he ducks his head and steals a kiss. It's a hot artless press of lips, just like their first one had been, except this time she's the one who's surprised by it. But she doesn't pull away, she kisses him back with that same curious hunger, he remembers. Stiles brushes his nose softly against hers.

"You, were my one good thought." he tells her. "And you always will be."

Malia leans away, her eyes dark, and so focused on him. "Who are you?" she wonders aloud.

Stiles is still holding her face in his hands, his thumbs flashing out to stroke her jaw, as he fumbles for words.

"I'm—"

"STILES!"

His head jerks toward Lydia's frantic voice, he catches sight of her racing toward them.

"STILES! THERE COMING!"

Malia cocks her head to the side, "Lydia?"

Stiles turns back to Malia and swallows hard.

Her dark eyes are muddled with confusion, "Whose coming?"

His eyes dart between Malia and Lydia's approaching form. Knowing that the clock has finally run out, Stiles reaches for Malia's hands and pulls her close.

"Soon you're gonna forget all about this—all about me," he tells her urgently, his eyes searching hers. "And I—uh I don't k-know what there gonna do to Me." he admits, his voice unsteady, "But whatever happens, I'm gonna hang onto this moment with you for as long as I can." He promises her, as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I know you think we saved you when we found you in the woods that day." He mumbles against her forehead. "But the truth is you saved me, Malia Tate."

He pulls back, and reaches out to brush a hand down her cheek. Malia looks so conflicted, her eyes searching his. He can tells she's struggling to say something, but whatever it is she's unable to get it passed her throat. But her hands are gripping his almost painfully tight, as if she's willing herself to remember him.

Lydia reaches them and grabs onto his shoulder.

"There here! We need to move now." she commands, nearly breathless.

Stiles gives Malia a pained expression, and nods jerkily to Lydia. He reluctantly lets go of Malia's hands, but her hands cling to him, catching his wrists. He lifts his head to look at her and he suddenly can't run for his life…he just wants to stay right here down to the last second.

"You can't stay with her, we can't let them see her." Lydia urges him.

Lydia's right…she's always right. So he lets Lydia drag him backward away from her. He stumbles over his own feet as he struggles to keep his eyes on Malia for as long as possible before he has to turn away and run across the dark field. Drawing the ghost riders as far away from her as possible.