Lydia would never be able to explain how she managed to drive them to the hospital without causing an accident. Her whole body was shaking as she gripped tightly on the steering wheel, driving over the speeding limit. On the backseat, Monica explained the situation to someone through the phone while doing what she can so Stiles, laying on her lap, wouldn't die right there.

A team was already waiting for them when she parked in front of the hospital. The girl jumped out of the car as soon as she could. Her aunt was shared information regarding his state so far to the doctors as the team launched to the car, but Lydia didn't hear much. The only thing she could see was her best friend, lying unconscious and covered in blood on a stretcher and they rushed back to the building. She followed them, mechanically putting one foot after the other, and stopped only when she felt two hands pressing on her shoulders.

"Lydia." The girl slowly lifted her eyes, focusing on Monica, standing right in front of her. The expression on her aunt's face was worried, but calm at the same time; she was way more used to stressful situations like that. "I'm sorry, dear, but you can't go any further."

Lydia blinked a few times, and nodded. "Right, I... The Sheriff... And Scott and Allison, I..." She wet her dry lips, struggling. "I gotta..."

"I'll talk to them, don't worry about that. Now I need you to wait here while I ask someone to come help you get cleaned up, okay?" Lydia nodded again. Monica sighed and kissed her on the cheek. "Everything is gonna be fine."

Once she was alone, the girl looked down at her hands. They were sticky, and stained. Red. Stiles' blood was all over her fingers, arms, clothes. Lydia gasped. Her vision got blurry and she forced herself not to pass out, or vomit. She couldn't wait for anyone anymore, she couldn't just stand there. Lydia lifted her eyes and follow the signs that showed the way to the bathroom.

After closing the door behind her, she rushed to the sink, where she started to wash her hands and forearms. She scrubbed the soap on her skin and rinsed it, but the red refused to leave. At last, she put her hands on each side of the sink and gave up, breathing heavily. Lydia closed her eyes, trying to put herself together as she felt her insides come crumbling down. But she was falling apart and she couldn't make it stop now. She lifted her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Red fingerprints contrasted with the pale skin of her cheek, and there was dry blood also on the tips of her hair. So much blood, so much blood... How would he ever be okay?

The numbness finally began leaving her body for good, quickly being replaced by waves of pure fear and desperation that knocked the air out of her and brought hot tears to her eyes. Her heart was too tight it seemed impossible for it to keep beating; the pain was almost unbearable.

Lydia didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't figure out which series of events led Stiles to show up, bloody and weak, by her door. She couldn't think of anything other than the fact that he was probably dying somewhere in that hospital. And, if that really happened, his last words would have been her name. That hurt too much, knowing that she was the last thing that crossed his mind before he collapsed, it was just too heavy.

It was funny that the only thing that could make her feel better was a hug from him. Not only because his life was in danger - thought she wished that holding him tightly was enough to keep him from slipping away,- but also because her trembling and fragile body craved a small dose of Stiles. She needed the calm he brought her, the comfort, the true medicine that was having his arms around her, his smell, the heat from his body. Lydia missed him so much that she felt like screaming, like begging God, the cosmos, or whatever was responsible for taking lives away to let him stay. She just needed him to stay. She refused to deal with the fact that she was about to lose him. Without saying goodbye, or apologizing. She needed to tell him how sorry she was for everything, she needed a chance to hope he'd forgive her for hurting him so much. Lydia would never have peace if she didn't even try to fix the damage she had made.

The redhead wiped her face with the back of her hand, getting rid of the tears, and rushed out the door. She ran down the hallway from where she had come, retracing her steps to find out where they had taken him. Lydia just needed to apologise. She just needed a minute with him to say she was sorry. So she dodged everything and every person on her way until strong hands grabbed her arms, making her stop.

"Let me go! I need to talk to him! Please!" She begged as she struggled to break free from the nurse's grip. "I just need to talk to him!"

"Miss, please calm down!"

"STILES!" She yelled louder. Could he hear her? Was he close enough? Was he even still alive to do so? "Please!"

"Lydia!" Allison jogged towards them, wearing jeans and an oversized sweater, her hair up in a messy bun as if she had just been pulled out from the bed. "I'll take care of her, thank you," she told the nurse. The man let go of Lydia and she rushed to her friend, who hugged her tightly.

"Ally, I need to talk to him," Lydia murmured against the brunette's shoulder. "I gotta tell him... I need to..."

Allison sighed heavily, caressing her hair. A tear slipped from her eyes and she pressed her lips together to repress a sob. "You can talk to him later."

"No, it has to be now." The redhead shook her head and stepped back from the hug . "I have to see him now... It has to be before him..."

"Lyds, look at me." Allison grabbed Lydia's shoulders and lowered her head so their eyes were on the same level. "Stiles is gonna be alright. I don't even understand what happened, but I know he's gonna find a way out of this. You know how he is. Stiles always figures out a way. We just have to... wait, okay?"

Lydia nodded. "Okay," she murmured. The brunette used her thumbs to wipe the tears from under her friend's eyes.

"I brought you some clothes. Monica said you'd need them," Allison said, trying hard not to give Lydia's tainted clothes a second look. The redhead nodded again, and they walked in silence to the bathroom. There was no need to share comforting words; they would not change anything, after all.

Xxxx

Lydia looked down at her hands. She still saw red, even though her skin was clean. The vision of her bloody hands seemed to be burned in her eyes; and maybe the blood would always stay there, haunting her forever.

She had lost track of how many hours had gone by, but she knew what all that waiting meant: Stiles had died, and nobody wanted to tell them. Lydia wanted to get up and get away from the tired and desolated looks on her family's face, she didn't want to be a part of that horrible scene anymore, but she doubted she could leave, no matter how much she wanted it. The giant hole that had grown in her chest left her weak and oddly lightweight. Her heartbeat echoed, pounding into the empty. She was curled up in a armchair and she ignored her legs going numb because she couldn't move; she felt like she could fall apart in a dozen pieces if she did so.

Lydia had lived a long time without Stiles. Years without thinking about him. And during the few months that had passed since she moved back to Beacon Hills, he went back to being one of the people she cared about the most, to the point where she could only wonder how she managed to spend so many years without him; those months had been enough to get her hooked up on having him around again. Stiles was the kind of person you didn't know you had to have in your life until you meet them. Suddenly, she couldn't imagine herself living a world where he didn't exist.

Lydia didn't remember ever telling him that she loved him, she wasn't even sure if she had made it clear. Stiles said things like *"I don't know how to be someone who doesn't care about you"* and she never really knew what he meant. She should have noticed the quiet I love you's behind so many words he had said; that was a classic "you don't know what you have until you lose it."

She never thought she would find herself in a position where she actually regret not falling for someone. Lydia had already asked herself that a thousand times, and she knew it wouldn't take her anywhere, but what the hell was wrong with her? She had gotten involved with so many stupid boys, assholes who treated her like shit and cared about no one but themselves - she had dated Theo, the absolute worst. Now she would be lucky if she ever found a guy who took care of her like Stiles did, but something inside her kept saying that maybe he was it, maybe be was the right one for her, the one she could stick with, without fear. Lydia could totally live with that: it would be perfect, so perfect, to have him by her side not only as a best friend, but also as a lover.

On the other hand, she couldn't ignore the possibility that she may have missed her chance with Stiles. She could be too late, and it terrified her.

The Sheriff's voice sounded distant as he demanded an update on his son's situation; he still hadn't noticed that something had gone terribly wrong. Lydia felt bad for him: first he lost his wife in a slow and devastating way, and now he lost his only son with one single blow. When she was younger, she considered the Sheriff to be like a second father to her, and she hated that a good person like him had to go through so many fucked up things.

Not long after, the redhead felt two cold hands touching her arms. She lifted her face and focused on Allison, kneeling in front of her, with eyes puffy and red, a clear sign that she had been crying, but an excited smile on her lips. Lydia frowned.

"Monica brought news. Stiles is still in surgery, but he's definitely out of the woods now," Allison told her. Lydia blinked, confused.

"What? He's..." Her voice was raspy when she spoke, and she cleared her throat. "He's... alive? Stiles is alive?"

The brunette found her reaction funny. "Yeah, he is. We don't know any details yet, a doctor will talk to us anytime soon." She sighed and squeezed her friend's arms. "He's gonna be fine, Lydia."

"Oh, my god," the redhead gasped. She hugged Allison, who hugged her back with the same enthusiasm. Relief poured down on Lydia like a bucket of cold water, leaving her a little light-headed; her head spun and she felt her consciousness almost slip through her fingers. Allison, noticing that she had all her friend's weight on her, gently pushed Lydia back on the armchair.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked with worry. Lydia closed her eyes and sighed; that wasn't the time to faint.

"Yeah, it's just that..." The redhead wet her lips. "I thought I had lost him, and... It kind of made me realize that I-I don't know what I would do without him..."

"Oh, Lydia..."

"I don't know who I would be, or how my life would work. You know what I mean?"

Allison stared at her in silence for a few seconds, biting her bottom lip to hide a smile as she tried to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, I do," she answered. "That's kind of how I feel about Scott."

"Doesn't it... scare you?"

"It did scare me a little at first, but that was before I knew he felt the same way about me. Now it's just... Perfect. It's not like I live my life entirely for him. I'm still my own person, I can still be my own anchor. But it's different when you have someone by your side, someone you can lean on, someone how gets you in every level. It's comforting, you know? It feels good to have that kind of deep connection with someone."

Lydia nodded; she knew damn well what Allison was talking about. Stiles had been her anchor many times before, even when she didn't even know she needed one. The difference was that Allison and Scott were madly in love with each other...

"I'm glad you're finally realizing that, Lydia," the brunette said. Lydia frowned at her, but she only smiled, got on her feet and made her way back to her boyfriend's side.

Xxxx

Twenty minutes later, a doctor approached them. They all got up and rushed to meet her, eager for any news.

"Are you Stiles Stilinski's family?" The doctor asked.

"Yes, I'm his father," the Sheriff said, stepping forward. The doctor smiled politely.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Grey. I'm gonna start by telling you that your son is fine and that he's being taken to a room as we speak. As you know, he was stabbed by a sharp object, most likely a knife, which punctured his liver and caused a severe bleed. We were able to repair the damaged part of the organ and control the bleed, but he had already lost a lot of blood, so a transfusion was inevitable."

"Was there any permanent damage, doctor?" The Sheriff asked.

"Aside from the scar, he should have full recovery," she answered. "But he still has to stay here for at least two weeks, for observation."

Noah let out a relieved sigh and grabbed the doctor's hand.

"That you so much for saving my boy's life," he said with a trembling voice. Dr. Grey smiled again.

"It was my pleasure," she said. "Stiles is still hasn't woken up yet, but you can come see him."

The Sheriff nodded and followed her down the hall, turning around only to quickly give them a thumbs up.

"Thank god," Scott sighed, running a hand across his face. He put his arms around both of the girls and the three friends hugged each other, relieved beyond explainable.

Scott rushed to visit his friend, - his brother,- as soon as the Sheriff came back. Lydia waited not so patiently for her turn, biting on her thumbnail. She was about to go to the room and drag Scott out when he showed up in the hallway, gesturing for her to go ahead. The girl took a deep breath and marched into the room, but halted in the doorway. Seeing Stiles lying on that bed, - pale, unconscious and fragile, - was harder than she expected. Lydia wished she could see the warm color of his eyes, just to make sure that he was really okay, but she would have to wait a little longer.

She approached his bed and held his cold hand. Stiles didn't move, as expected, and she wondered if he knew she was there. She placed her free hand on his chest, right over his heart, and she stood there for a few minutes, feeling him breathing under her palm. Lydia could feel herself getting stronger with every beat of his heart. She leaned in and pressed her lips longingly against his cheek.

"I love you, okay?" She murmured in his ear. "I'm sorry."

Lydia ran her fingers through his hair, brushing if away from his eyes. She caressed his cheekbones as she admired every inch of his face. She never wanted to taste the feeling of almost losing him, never again in her whole life. And she could stay there until he woke up, just watching him breathing. Lydia sighed, kissed his forehead and left the room reluctantly so Allison could see him too.

Monica ignored her niece's request to sleep in the hospital and took her home. It was the middle of the night, the girl had been awake for more than twelve hours and hadn't eaten a thing in the meantime. In the car, Lydia started feeling the effects of an agitated night coming down on her. When they arrived home, she dragged her feet upstairs and took a long shower before going back to the kitchen to eat. After eating the sandwiches Monica had made her, it became hard for her to keep her eyes open, so she made her way back upstairs and buried herself under the covers.

Lydia woke up at the end of the next morning after a sleep with no dreams. It was Monday, but she couldn't care less. She took a shower, got ready and went back to the hospital with Monica, stopping at a coffee shop on their way. The girl's heart was like a drum in her chest as she walked down the white hallways, holding a small paper bag and a paper cup with hot coffee. She found the Sheriff sitting on one of the armchairs next to his son's room, looking tired and beaten, but probably too scared to go home.

"Good morning," Lydia greeted him. Noah gave her a weak smile.

"Morning, Lydia."

"I brought this to you." She handed him the cup and the paper bag. "My aunt figured that you stayed here this whole time, and according to her, a new day doesn't start before breakfast."

His smile got a little brighter as he accepted his breakfast. "Oh, you didn't have to... But thank you." The sheriff took a sip of the black, steaming coffee, - Stiles' favorite kind, and she remembered he once told her he had gotten his taste from his father,- and sighed. "Shit, I needed this. Say thank you to your aunt, too."

Lydia nodded. She laid her eyes on the room door and bit her lip anxiously. "Is he awake?"

"He was earlier, but he's probably asleep now. The boy loves his naps." Noah noticed the disappointment on her face and added: "Stiles asked about you today. He was happy to know you stayed the night waiting for news."

Her cheeks burned a little and she smiled coyly. "Allison and Scott are on their way. We'll stay with him so you can go home and get some rest."

The Sheriff hesitated for a moment. "I doubt I'll get any sleep, but I do need to shower," he said, and she laughed. "Thank you, Lydia."

"No problem," she assured him. The girl left him enjoying his breakfast and walked to the room door; she tiptoed inside to not wake him up. Stiles slept peacefully, looking less pale than the night before, but definitely not healthy enough. His lips were slightly parted,pouting a little, and his hair was messier than before, which proved her theory that it was alive.

Smiling, Lydia sat on the chair placed right beside his bed. She grabbed his hand, which was still cold. Stiles had calloused palms and long, skilled fingers. It was a big contrast from her small, soft hand, but she liked the effect of their hands together. She laid her palm over his to check the size difference, then intertwined her fingers with his.

"Hi."

Lydia nearly jumped out of the chair. "Jesus Christ!" She gasped, covering his mouth with both hands. Stiles watched her with a calm smile on his face.

"Nah, just the good old Stiles."

Recovered from the scare, the redhead laughed, shaking her head. She looked at him, happy to see him awake and smiling. Stiles didn't look away, on the contrary, he reached out for her hand and squeezed it.

"Hi," she murmured. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt?"

"Just a little. The meds are making my head all heavy, it's pissing me off. Aside from that, I couldn't be better. You know, given the circumstances." He shrugged lightly. "You didn't have to spend the night here."

"Technically I didn't spend the night because I went home before dawn. And yes, of course I had to. Where else would I be? I would go wherever you were, even if you hadn't showed up at my doorstep like that," she said, looking in his eyes. Stiles just stared her back, hesitating to say something she already knew what it was.

"Lydia, I'm really so..."

"Nope. Hum-hum. No way."

"What?"

"I'm not gonna let you apologize."

"But..."

"No, shush. I need to talk." Lydia bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I've been feeling like shit since that night. And I don't want you to apologize, because what you said... I needed to hear that. I had to know about all that, about your feelings and what I put you through..." She felt the tears threatening to come up and took another deep breath. "I've been the most ignorant and selfish person in the world and I'm sorry. Truly, I... I wish I could go back in time and fix it, but all I can do right now is say how sorry I am."

Stiles shook his head. "No, stop that. It's not right." She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "I chose not to tell you, okay? I didn't have the guts. I... I was afraid you'd freak out or get mad at me or, I don't know, kick my ass or something. I didn't wanna risk our friendship, so I figured it would be better just to keep the secret."

"But what if I'd known before? Things could have been so much different."

"Different how?"

"I wouldn't have drifted away like that. Or maybe I would, I'll never know. And we could've... I don't know, happened. We could've been a possibility. I wish I could've seen us that way before."

Stiles stared at her with a deep frown on his face, completely confused by her words.

"What are you... What?"

"I thought you had died last night," she said, fighting the tears. "I thought I had lost you and it was... Horrible. It was terrifying and it hurt, Stiles, it fucking hurt. That's what it took for me to realize that my life wouldn't be right without you. You're my best friend, you've always been, but I don't know if I make it clear how much you're important to me. Sometimes you're all I need, 'cause you always make everything better. You make me feel..." She smiled lightly. "Warm and safe, you take care of me even when I tell you no. That's why now I see that we've always been a maybe. We've always been too close to becoming something else. If only we had more time, or if I hadn't been so stupid, or if I had realized sooner that you were... that you are everything."

Stiles looked at her like he had never seen her before. Hearing those words was too unreal to make any sense, so he waited until they slowly fit in together in his head. He had been waiting for her to yell at him, not to apologize. Or to open her heart like that. Definitely not to learn that the two of them together, not only as friends, was a possibility.

He didn't waste any more time. Stiles placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her towards him, kissing her. Lydia gasped, but didn't pull back; on the contrary, she put her free hand on his neck and melted into the kiss. The feeling of her lips against his was even better than he remembered. His heart seemed to be trying burst in his chest, and she could feel it under her palm. She smiled.

"You really think we're a maybe?" He whispered. Lydia #pulled away just enough so she could look him in the eye when she nodded.