let me break (the walls that surround me) Chapter 25: lunatic 3, a teen wolf fanfic

word count: 15,614
fashion: due to the recent closing of polyvore, i've moved many of my sets to shoplook but they don't yet have a collection option. i'd suggest checking out this story on ao3 (sarcastic_fina) for direct links to sets for the time being.
episodes: 1x08 - lunatic

XXV.

Malia was fast. A lot faster than Derek was expecting. An hour into their sparring and she hadn't slowed down in the least. She attacked and attacked and she never hesitated. Not for the first time, he was glad she was on his side. She'd make for a good ally. She was still new to this, but she fought with purpose. He had an idea that part of that was due to her mood and the moon, but if she kept this up, if she polished her attacks, they had a chance against the alpha.

A kick caught him in the mouth then and he realized his distraction was costing him. Stumbling back, he gave his head a shake. Panting, Derek reached up and wiped a dribble of blood from his chin. He grinned at her through blood-stained teeth. "Sure you aren't pissed?"

Malia glared at him as she paced a circle, shaking her arms out in a gesture he was far too familiar with. "I'm sure."

"Yeah?" He tracked her progress, looking for any sign she was going to turn and strike. "Because you're not holding much back."

Her lips pursed and she glared at him from the corner of her eyes. "Am I supposed to be?"

"No. But I thought you might." He dusted his hands off and nodded his chin at her. "Your arms feel fuzzy?"

She looked at them. "A little."

"It's adrenaline. You probably get a rush when you're running. This is different. You're not scared of me, but you're on edge." He searched her face. "When Adrienne first turned, her adrenaline would spike closer to the full moon. She was already pretty moody, but full moons made her anxious. It happens to some of us more than others."

Malia bounced from one foot to the other. "How'd she deal with it?"

"Like this." He waved between them. "Her and Gab would fight it out until they were too exhausted to move." Often, Gabby was the only one that could handle Adrienne when she was like that. The only one that matched her in strength and tenacity. No matter how brutal their fighting got, Gabby always seemed to laugh it off. There was a chaotic joy the twins got from sparring. It fueled them to work harder and be better. His dad used to say that watching them fight was like going to the opera. The way they moved around each other was a dance, an art all its own.

"And that helped?"

Derek nodded. "For them. Shifters are physical. A lot of the time, instead of saying what we feel, we work it out a different way."

"By kicking each other's asses?" She snorted. "I don't know how healthy that is."

"Talking happens after. When you're so tired, you don't have a filter anymore." He backed up and planted his heels. "Kick me again."

She squinted at him a beat and then got into position. Instead of aiming at his face, however, she faked going high before letting herself drop and throwing her leg out, swiping at his ankles.

Derek was a little more prepared this time. He managed to jump up and out of the way, but it was close. He turned surprised eyes on her.

Standing, she dusted herself off and shrugged. "You would've expected it."

His mouth kicked up, impressed. "Yeah, I would've."

Malia put her hands on her hips and huffed. "You're looking at me funny. It's weirding me out."

He shook his head. "You just remind me of them."

"Your sisters?"

"They were good fighters… Never gave an inch." He paused. "Fighting is different for everyone. Some rely on strength alone, others strategize. There's a medium you have to find. A balance for both."

"What about your mom? What kind of fighter was she?"

Derek felt a wave of solemnity wash over him. "Mom preferred peace, but she was always ready for war."

Malia went quiet for a moment, her gaze darting away. She kicked at a stray rock. "Must be a hard way to live. Always expecting another fight."

Derek shrugged. "You get used to it."

"Is that a good thing?"

"You can have a life outside of it, it just takes work." Sometimes, Derek thought of New York. Of late nights in the library, bent over a stack of books and a laptop. He thought of lecture halls and the campus and the coffee shop he visited every morning before class. He thought of Laura's texts telling him to ace a test or to check in on his progress. It was a normal life, even if it was shadowed by what had happened, what he'd done, what he hadn't done... But it was something. It was more than this. It was an attempt, at least.

Shaking her head, Malia paced. "Are you? Ever since Laura died, your life has been all about the Alpha. The police are looking at you for murder, but you stay anyway. You had a life before. For a while anyway."

"Considering your own history, I'd think you'd get that a little more than most."

Malia paused and turned to him, her gaze flinty.

"What happened? What pissed you off?" His eyebrows arched. "Was it your dad? Scott? Allison?"

"Maybe it's just life in general. Not even a week ago, everything I know was turned inside out. Just last month I realized werewolves are real and not some B-rated movie plot. And now I've got a full moon creeping up on me and I have no idea how I'm going to deal with it!"

"You want advice?"

"I don't know what I want! I hate that I even have to ask for anything. I used to be completely in control of my life. Who was in it, what I was doing, how I felt—"

Derek snorted.

She glared at him. "What?"

"You can't control everything." Crossing his arms, Derek raised a knowing eyebrow. "It's not possible. You can try, but there are always going to be variables you didn't account for."

"Like what?"

"Like your dad getting sober. Like Scott getting bitten. Like your new best friend coming from a family of hunters." He shook his head. "Things happen, Malia. You can't always plan for it. All you can do is deal with it."

Malia's hands folded into fists. "I don't want to deal with it. I want my life back. I want my choice back."

"That's not how this works."

"Why?" She stared him down from angry, yellow eyes. "Why can't I just find control and move on? No more Alpha, no more full-moon bullshit, no more fur or claws or any of it. If I can control the shift, I never have to do it again."

Derek took a deep breath. "You're scared. That's normal."

She scowled. "You don't know what this feels like."

"Maybe not entirely. But I remember what it was like when I first turned. Everything felt stronger, deeper than it did before. Try being a gangly kid in the middle of puberty and add a layer of fur, strength, and speed that you weren't prepared for. Even growing up around shifters, you think you know what it's like. But when it happens, it's a whole new learning experience. It takes work to get it under control, but when you do... It becomes a part of you. And you become a part of something bigger."

Malia scoffed. "You keep saying that. Like this is a gift. But it doesn't feel that way."

"Why?"

"Because I... I'm constantly scared I'm going to hurt someone or expose myself or I'll turn and I won't come back."

"You have people around you ready to help with that."

"Those are the same people I don't ever want to hurt!"

"Then trust them to know their own limits."

"You make it sound so easy!" She turned her back to him and strode away, shaking her head. "Stiles, my dad, Allison, they're human. This morning, I was freaking out at an ice rink over a necklace. And I started to turn, I could feel it. Allison was right there. If I hurt her... If I turned in front of her..."

"Chris Argent would hunt you down."

"And my dad and Scott and you." She turned around, brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. "This was why I stayed away from people. Even before I was a shifter. I never wanted to get close to people. Before, it was about losing them. Now, it's about hurting them."

Derek walked toward her. "So, you find a way to connect with the coyote."

"I don't want to connect with her! I want to get rid of her." She snapped her teeth. "I don't want to spend my life worried that she's going to take over."

"That's not what she is. She's a part of you. She is you."

Malia shook her head and tipped it back, closing her eyes. "You don't get it."

"My mom was like you, so was Laura. There's a transition period."

"Everything is a transition period," she muttered.

"Yeah, it is. And when you're done, you're better for it."

"Better how?" She crossed her arms, a defensive position that spoke volumes. "Faster? Stronger? What if I don't care about that?"

"You want to keep the people you care about safe, right? Not just from you, from everything. The Alpha, the hunters, all of it. This is how you do that. You fight me, you learn control, you accept the coyote, and you do something about it."

Malia stared at him a long beat. Eventually, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. I'll stick with fighting for now."

Derek half-smiled. "I thought you might."

Her eyes glowed a bright yellow before she advanced, baring her teeth as she growled.

She wouldn't pull her punches. Wouldn't hesitate to attack in every way she could. There was a feral ferocity to her that could not be tempered.

As formidable as Malia was, Derek liked that she didn't hold back. She reminded him so much of his sisters that he couldn't help but like it, even as he bled for the sake of her growth.

…

Hours later, Malia laid on the ground, her arms and legs star-fished around her. There was a rock digging into her back, but she was too tired to do anything about it. Her chest heaved with each panting breath as she stared at the blue sky above, framed by reaching tree branches. It felt good. Now that it was over, her body felt a little less chaotic, her emotions less fractured. She'd spilled blood, Derek's more than her own, but she didn't feel bad about it. He would heal. What mattered more was that she learned something. To attack and defend. But that still left a gaping hole in her understanding...

"What happens on the full moon?"

"You'll shift."

"Into the coyote?"

"Maybe. You might hold her off a while." He paused. "My mom said her first full shift didn't happen until she was thirty. She was pregnant with Laura and... it just happened. She said she felt different; the moon was stronger somehow."

"Did it hurt?"

"She said it felt like being flayed the first time. When she shifted back, she was scared that it had hurt the baby, but... Laura was fine. And after that, each time she turned hurt a little less. Until it didn't hurt at all. It just came naturally."

"Why'd it happen to her? Why so late?"

"My dad thought it was all a learning process. That only people who had gone through some kind of spiritual growth or journey could do it. It's rare in our culture."

"What about Laura?"

Derek paused a beat, before saying, "The first time she shifted was after the fire… We were leaving town, trying to get as far away as we could, but something went wrong. She pulled over, ran into the woods, and... shifted. It took hours to track her down and when I did, I don't think she wanted to turn back."

"Because it hurt."

"You said when you turned that the coyote wanted to run away and hide. I think Laura's wolf wanted to do the same thing. She didn't want to deal with the grief."

"But she turned back." Malia turned her head to see him, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, a water bottle dangling from his hand. "Why?"

Derek's gaze turned distant. "She curled up in a ball and the fur just faded away. And she was crying, shivering... I'd never seen her like that. She was always the strong one." He swallowed tightly. "I think she came back for me. Because she wasn't sure I could do it alone."

Malia stared at him a long beat. "Maybe she didn't want to be alone either."

He blinked and focused on her once more. "Maybe."

Malia let her gaze move back to the sky and took a deep breath. Her heart was evening out, her breathing had steadied, and now she felt the warm, swamping sensation of sleepiness. "Can the moon make you feel things that aren't real? Things you don't actually feel?"

"You remember what I told you about chemosignals?"

"That it's like reading a person's emotions. What they're feeling leaves a smell behind and you can read it."

"You become extra sensitive to things like that when the moon is full."

"So, if you were around someone who was angry, you might get angry, too?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. It can be overwhelming if you don't know how to shut it out. And when there's a lot of people around, it's worse."

"Then avoiding school tomorrow is probably a good idea?"

He snorted. "I'd recommend it."

"Yeah, well, I don't think they'll take a note from my fake cousin Miguel." She could feel Derek's gaze heavy on the side of her face. Gathering her courage, she pushed the words out from a throat that felt too tight. "What about love? Attraction? Something like that."

"It depends on the people. Attraction is one thing. At school, that's a lot of feelings condensed into one place. The stronger the feelings are, the more intensely you're going to feel them."

Malia thought of the party. A house full of hormonal teenagers who were half-drunk and looking for someone to rub against. She thought of Scott's intensity in the bathroom. The clear realization that he was not entirely himself. The way he stalked toward her with purpose.

"Can it change you? What you do, how you feel, that kind of thing?"

"Temporarily. Depending on your willpower."

She turned to look at him, her brow furrowed.

"It's a catch-22. You're stronger physically when the moon is full. But your judgement, your ability to separate feelings, that's weaker. At least in the beginning, when you're still figuring it out."

Swallowing tightly, Malia looked away again, not ready to see what Derek's face might say— judgement, pity, understanding. "How long before you can shut it out?"

"Depends on the shifter."

"But with time, it goes away?"

"Eventually. You'll still pick up on things, but you won't absorb them."

Malia nodded faintly. "You said love had a signal. That we'd be able to pick up on it."

"Yeah."

"Is there a way to hide it? To make it so another shifter can't find out?"

Derek didn't answer right away and Malia felt her face warm with embarrassment.

"You can hide your chemosignals. It takes a lot of time to figure out how, but it's possible."

Malia nodded. "Let's add that to lesson two."

Derek pushed up from the tree and crossed the forest floor to her then. Hands on his hips, he leaned into her line of vision. "You want a ride home?"

Malia held a hand out for him to help her to her feet.

Taking it, he gave an easy tug. Malia found herself upright almost dizzyingly fast. He brushed a few leaves from her shoulders and then jerked his head toward his car. "Call me when you get back from school tomorrow. The moon won't be completely in effect until night fall. That gives us some time."

"To what?"

With all the grace of a sledgehammer, he said, "Chain you up."

Malia grimaced. "Great."

…

Realizing her dad was home, Malia had Derek drop her off around the corner to her house and walked the rest of the way. Sweaty and heavy-limbed, she crossed the driveway to find Shiloh laying on the porch, the front door cracked open, and the faint sound of the radio playing. Shiloh's tail thumped the closer Malia got and she raised her head to watch her, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth.

"Hey, you." Malia bent to scrub her fingers over Shiloh's head. The mouth-watering scent of spaghetti sauce wafted on the air and Malia inhaled deeply.

"It's still one of your favorites, isn't it?"

She looked up to see her dad standing in the doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder. Malia nodded. "Yeah. Can't go wrong with homemade sauce."

"It's still gonna be a little while. I'm letting it simmer. But I thought, if you didn't have any plans tonight, we could have dinner together. Maybe get a chance to talk."

His words were steady, but his expression screamed 'awkward.' Over the last few days, Malia had been told repeatedly that she should just sit down and talk to him, maybe now was the time to act on that advice.

"Sure. I'm going to take a shower and get changed first." Standing, Malia plucked at her shirt for emphasis. "I went for a run and I stink."

"Yeah, of course." Henry stepped back, out of the doorway, to let her pass. "How, uh, how was skating?"

"Good." Minus the total freak out she had over Kylie's necklace. "Thanks for breakfast this morning."

"Happy to. I'm just glad you're having your friends over more."

Half-smiling, Malia nodded and made her way across the living room. "Call me when dinner's ready?"

"You got it! "

Malia made her way down the hall and into her room, closing the door behind her. She stripped out of her sweaty workout clothes and turned her shower up high. Even with her supernatural healing ability, her muscles still felt sore. A hot shower would help loosen them up.

…

After her shower, Malia threw on her comfiest and warmest pajamas, threw a load of laundry in, and took a seat at her desk to open her laptop. After making sure she had, in fact, finished all her homework, she opened Skype. Stiles was online and, while she hesitated to immediately make contact, she knew he probably wanted to talk. After the skating rink, she'd been a little short with both Scott and Stiles. It might've been to protect herself, but that didn't mean she wanted to lose their friendship. And they needed each other now more than ever.

Tapping his name, she waited for him to answer, and drew one of her legs up, balancing her heel on the edge of her chair.

Stiles' grinning face filled the screen. "Heyyy... She survives another run-in with Derek Hale."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh."

Sitting back in his chair, he tapped a pencil against his homework, spread out in front of him. "How'd it go?"

"Good." She sat back and nodded. "We sparred for a while. He explained a lot about full moons and how they affect us. We can absorb people's feelings, at least for the first while, until we figure out how separate everything and stay in control. It's harder in big groups of people, so obviously school is going to be great."

Stiles snorted.

"He offered to chain me up tomorrow." She grimaced. "I'm not happy about it, but I get it. He said to give him a call after school."

Stiles pulled a face. "You think that's the best idea? You're basically trusting that he won't let anything happen to you."

Malia shrugged. "His mom and his sister were like me. If anybody knows how to deal with this stuff, it's him."

"He knows the mechanics of it, sure. But he doesn't know you, not the way I do." Stiles shook his head. "I'm not saying chaining you up is a bad idea. I just want to be sure the guy with the chains has the right intentions."

Malia shook her head. "I don't think Derek would do anything to intentionally hurt me."

"'Intentionally' is the part I'm having trouble swallowing. Things happen. Things go wrong. The police and probably hunters are on his tail. What if you get caught in the crossfire?" Stiles' brows hiked. 'This is the one night of the month that the hunters know for a fact that shifters have less control. They probably consider it a free pass to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Maybe. But what are you going to do with two of us? I know you want to help, but there's only so much one person can handle. And we're really not sure how we'll react to it. Scott was all over the place the first time he turned. It's supposed to get less confusing and less painful as time goes on. Maybe he does better this time and maybe he doesn't. What I do know is that my first shift hurt like hell. And when the coyote gets in control, she has a goal. I'm not sure she'd like it if someone got in the way of that."

"What, you think she'd hurt me?" Stiles looked skeptical. "We tracked you down and turned you back once. I'm pretty sure I could do it again."

"Maybe. But that wasn't a full moon. She might not be as logical when the moon's out."

Stiles leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his head. "So, this is what you wanna do? You wanna trust Derek and leave me with Scott?"

"I'm not leaving you with Scott. I'm trusting you to do the right thing with him. If that's chaining him up too, okay. If it's not and you think he's handling it better, okay." Malia shrugged. "I trust your judgement and I know you'll do whatever he needs, even if he can't see it."

Drawing a deep breath, Stiles nodded. "Okay. But as soon as the sun's up and you're back to your same old self, I want an update. I don't like this splitting up and hoping for the best stuff. We're better as a team."

"It's one night." Malia shook her head. "We get through this and then everything's back to normal."

"Is it?" Stiles wondered. "Do we even know what normal is anymore?"

"I thought you liked this stuff. Werewolves, werecoyotes, hunters, oh my..."

"It's interesting, don't get me wrong. And it opens some doors I never thought it would. But..." He scratched his chin and sighed. "I don't know. Hard to think it's fun when it feels like everything keeps blowing up in our faces. Yours obviously furrier then mine."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Hey, I'm baring my soul here!"

"You know I meant the facial hair stuff." She pursed her lips. "Derek seems to think if we can just deal with the Alpha, then things can calm down. Maybe he's right. Maybe we figure out how to stop the Alpha and we go on to live normal, productive lives as people who occasionally shift when the moon is full."

"Would you want that?"

Her brow knit. "What do you mean?"

"To just be normal again and not have to worry about all this shifter stuff. I mean, you were excited in the beginning, when you were figuring out what you could do. Does that all go away because the Alpha's gone? Do you just hide your abilities and never use them if you can help it?"

"Stiles..." She stared at him knowingly. "We're not superheroes. We're not gonna save lives or fight villains or... save the world. We're high school students. We're going to cram for tests and fail miserably and go to college or not go to college. You're gonna join the FBI, Scott will be a vet, and I'll... I don't know. Travel to France and become a beatnik or something."

"Yeah..." He snorted. "I don't think you have the poetry skills to be a beatnik." He tapped his pencil against his books. "And I just think we shouldn't rule the superhero thing out. Maybe it's a calling."

"And maybe I'm not picking up."

He nodded slowly. "That's your choice. I get it."

She shook her head. "I just want to make it through the next couple days. That's it."

"Speaking of... What happened earlier?"

"What, at the ice rink?"

"No. With Scott." Stiles' brow furrowed. "He seemed pretty messed up after you two talked."

Malia's heart squeezed. "Nothing. It was dumb."

"That usually means 'something,' and it was serious."

Turning her gaze away, she stared at a picture board on her wall, spanning years of her friendship with Scott and Stiles. There were dance stubs, a ribbon from her corsage, movie and concert tickets all mixed around with snapshots of them dressed up and dressed down. "It was a stupid miscommunication and... I was just tired and overemotional and not ready to talk about it. He kept apologizing and I get it, but I can't deal with it right now. I know I'm overreacting and that's probably the moon, but... I don't know. After the party and Kylie's necklace and my panic attack, I just need space."

Stiles stared at her beat. "Even from Scott?"

"Is that not allowed?"

"No, of course it is. I just... don't think you've ever wanted that."

"We've fought before. We don't agree about everything ever." She shook her head. "This isn't any different. Things are intense right now. It's probably smart we stay away from each other anyway. With the way the moon's going to affect us. Maybe coyotes and wolves don't get along as much as we think."

"I'm pretty sure wolves and coyotes mate sometimes." Stiles sat up a little taller, his 'thinky' face on. "Hey, did you know coyotes have monogamous pair bonds? Yeah, I've been reading about up on it. An alpha female and alpha male will co-lead their pack. That's cool, right?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. It's interesting."

"I'll send you a link to what I found."

She half-smiled. "Thanks."

A knock at her door caught her attention then and Malia turned her head. "Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready!" Henry called through the door.

"Okay. I'll be out in a minute." She listened to his footsteps as he left and turned back to the screen. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure. Am I picking you up or does that honor go to Allison?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Allison's dad is driving her to school. She texted me earlier. I guess he's still pretty worried after the school attack."

"Hey, speaking of..." Stiles sat forward in his chair, glanced at the door, and then focused on her. "My dad's been asking about you. He never got a formal statement..."

"Oh... Right."

"Which reminds me, does your dad even know what happened? You know, minus the supernatural stuff?"

Malia went still. "I guess I should tell him... before someone else does." Sighing, she sat forward. "If your dad really wants to talk, it'll have to be at least Tuesday."

"I'll mention it to him."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Exiting Skype, Malia stood from her desk and scrubbed her hands over her forehead. She was already dreading a conversation she had no idea how to even broach.

…

The scrape and tap of cutlery against plates was obnoxiously loud. Malia could hear the clock ticking away the seconds, a ball of nervous energy sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her dad had tried to start a number of conversations, but they hadn't gone anywhere. Her attempts were half-hearted, she had to admit. She knew what they needed to talk about, but she wasn't sure she was ready to crack that door open. Unfortunately, everything seemed tied to each other in some way or another.

"Are you feeling okay? I know the school's back open tomorrow. I never got a chance to ask you why it was closed."

Malia swallowed tightly. Well, if she was waiting for an opening... "About that..."

Henry looked up from his food, his brows arched curiously. "Yeah?"

"There, uh, there was an attack at the school."

He frowned. "Another animal? I thought they caught that mountain lion."

"They did. It's dead. It wasn't an animal that attacked the school. It was a person. And… he killed someone. Two people, actually."

Henry's eyes widened. "What? Who? Was it a student or staff? Did you know them?"

"Both were staff. It was a custodian, I didn't know him, and the librarian— her name was Trisha." Malia put her fork down and dropped her hands to her lap, folding them into fists. "I… I was at the school when it happened. I was in the library, actually. I was studying for a math test and… It's complicated, but basically, someone put a crowbar across the doors and we couldn't get out. The way the school's set up, they open the library to students but you can't get into the rest of the school without a key. Since we couldn't get out and we had a bad feeling, we convinced Trisha to let us into the school…"

Henry pushed his food away and clasped his hands together, tucking them under his chin. "Malia…"

"Just listen, okay? I need to get it all out and we can talk about it after."

He stared at her a beat and then nodded.

"Okay, so… Trisha unlocked the door, but she didn't stay with us. She went to find the custodian to figure out what was going on. She didn't think we were really in danger. She left because… I don't know, because she thought she'd be safe. She thought we all would be. But… I knew she was wrong. I knew and I still let her go." Her chest squeezed. "I went the other way with Danny and Erica. We just wanted to find a way out. But then Stiles was texting me and he said… He said someone killed the janitor. Him and Scott were trapped in the school, too. They were outrunning whoever was in the school and we needed to get out."

Henry rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head.

"I know what you're thinking and we did call the cops— they said they got a warnng that kids from the school were going to call in a prank so they didn't take us seriously."

Dropping his hands, Henry stared at her. "What'd you do?"

"I broke a window and I got Danny to jump out. He was the tallest and the strongest. And then I got Erica to jump out so he would catch her."

Henry swallowed. "You didn't jump." He said it like he knew— like he never expected her to even try.

"No. I told them to get help. To go to the police and convince them it wasn't a prank."

He sighed. "What then?"

"It's all kind of a jumble. Scott and Stiles and a few others were trapped in the cafeteria and I was trying to find them when I slipped… There was blood on the floor. Trisha's blood." She shook her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I went to the locker rooms to wash it off and I guess when I was gone, Sheriff Stilinski showed up. He got everyone out, but they couldn't find the killer."

Henry stared at her a long beat. "You went through all that and you never said anything?"

"It's not a big deal. I mean, I'm fine. So are my friends. We got out."

"Malia…" He let out a long, heavy breath. Pushing his chair back, he walked around the table. She wasn't sure what to expect, but when he crouched down and pulled her into a hug, she felt her whole body go completely still for a second. And then she sunk into it.

Burying her face against his shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne. It stung her nose, her senses still too sensitive, but she didn't care. It was him and he was reaching out in a way she didn't know she needed.

"Honey, I'm sorry. You must've been scared out of your mind."

The words crawled up her throat, clawing all the way. "I let her go. I knew something was wrong and I didn't stop her."

He squeezed her tighter. "You can't blame yourself for something someone else did. This librarian did the right thing letting you out, but she made her own choices after that. You're just a kid. That's not on you."

Malia leaned back and swiped at her eyes before the stinging tears that filled them could fall. "But I was there. I should've done something."

"If you ask me, you did too much. Sticking around was noble, but dangerous." His hands found her shoulders. "What if you were hurt, huh? Or something worse?"

"I couldn't leave them behind. They're my friends!"

Henry stared at her a moment; she could see a muscle in his cheek tick as he ground his teeth. He clearly wanted to say something more but was trying not to.

"Look, I… I know it was reckless, but I made the best choice I could while it was happening. And I'm not going to apologize for trying to protect the people I love."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I don't know what it's like. I don't know what you were feeling when it was happening. But I know that you've been through some stuff. More lately than most kids. Maybe… Maybe you take another day off. Maybe we, I don't know, we look into counseling or something. You should talk to someone about this stuff."

"I do. I have Scott and Stiles and Allison. I don't need a counsellor and I don't need another day off." Malia shook her head. "I'm fine. Seriously. I can handle this."

"Malia—"

"Dad," she interrupted. "It happened and it's over and I'm dealing with it."

"I just want you to be okay." He shook his head. "I've made so many mistakes, I don't want this to be another one. If you're struggling—"

"I'm not." She swallowed tightly. "I feel bad about Trisha and yeah, maybe I blame myself a little bit. But… I'm okay."

Henry hesitated a moment before eventually nodding. "If that changes, if you think maybe you need some more help…"

"Then I'll tell you."

His brows hiked. "You promise?"

Malia felt her heart sink into her stomach as she lied, "I promise."

…

After an overemotional dinner, Malia returned to her bedroom. She curled up on her bed with a book she couldn't concentrate long enough to read and her phone. It was late. Her homework was packed away in her bag, leftover spaghetti was put away for lunch tomorrow, and she'd even wasted a while picking out an outfit to wear— Lydia would be proud.

Her phone buzzed, giving her a much-needed distraction. Turning it over, she saw Danny had texted her— 'ready for your test tomorrow?'

She snorted. —'define ready...'

He texted back a 100 emoji and — 'you've got it in the bag'

Rolling onto her stomach, she thumbed back— 'yeah, we'll see.'

His response was quick— 'i'm an excellent tutor. i might even bring you some skittles if you're good'

Malia rolled her eyes— 'bribery, the quickest way to my heart'

Danny sent a winky emoji.

As Malia was getting ready to sign off and say goodnight, another text popped up.

— 'hey have you talked to erica lately?'

Malia frowned. — 'lately? no. why? what's up?'

Danny started to text, but then stopped. A beat passed before finally— 'better in person. talk tomorrow!'

She scowled— 'you know i'm impatient' She paused and added— 'is she okay at least?'

This time he didn't hesitate— 'she's fine. it's nothing bad. just a theory. we'll talk first thing! night!'

Sighing, she texted back— 'fine. night.'

Plugging her phone in, she double-checked her alarm was set and then placed it on her bedside table. Flipping her lamp off, she stared at the ceiling and hoped for a miracle. Tomorrow she was due for a day of chaos and all she could ask was that she didn't hurt anyone in the process.

…

"—beautiful Monday morning. Beacon Hills High School is back open after being closed Thursday and Friday—"

Scott glared at his alarm clock radio and pulled the blanket up over his head.

"Police search continues for alleged killer Derek Hale—"

Melissa raced across the room and turned the radio off abruptly. "We should probably set this to buzzer." Crouching down, she tugged the blanket off his head. "You alive in there?"

Scott stared at the corner of his bedside table instead of her. "No."

Tipping her head, she pursed her lips. "Not ready to go back to school?"

"No."

"You want to stay home another day?"

"No."

"Want a brand new car?"

Brow furrow, his gaze darted to her.

She grinned and shook her head. "Me, too."

Frowning, Scott started kicking his blankets off.

"This isn't just about what happened at the school, right? Is it about what's her name? Do you want to talk about it?"

Scott hopped out of bed and started for his bathroom. "Her name is Allison and no, it's not about her. We broke up. It's fine."

"I've been through a few breakups myself, you know? I mean, disastrous ones, actually."

"I don't care about your breakups, mom. I'm not upset about Allison." He shrugged. "We're friends, kind of."

"Okay, not Allison. Then… is it about Malia?"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

Melissa stared at him knowingly. "There's not a lot of people in your life that get a reaction like this."

He pursed his lips. "Like what?"

She raised an eyebrow. "This attitude? Not cute. I was sympathetic when I thought maybe the attack at the school had you moody. But if it's something else… Either we talk about it or you find a way to deal with it. I'm not the bad guy here."

Scott sighed and tipped his head back. "Malia's mad at me."

"Okay. Should she be?"

"I think so, yeah." He ground his teeth. "She says she isn't, but… I don't know. It doesn't feel right."

"What's it feel like?"

"Like I hurt her." His shoulders slumped. "That's the last thing I want to do."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Kind of. I think." He frowned. "I don't know. It feels like she's saying the right thing, but she doesn't really mean it."

"That doesn't sound like Malia. She's usually a straight-shooter."

Scott fell against the door jamb, his hand tucked behind his back. "I know, but things are different right now."

"Different how?"

"Just different!" His voice raised, both with irritation and frustration. Groaning, he let his head fall back. "What if I totally screwed it up? What if she never wants to talk to me again?"

"Scott… Look, you don't have to tell me everything that happened. It's personal, I get it. But, I know you and I know Malia, and I don't think there's any risk of you two falling apart like that. You're been so close for so long… Things happen sometimes. The best thing you can do is give her some space and, when she's ready, talk it out."

"How do I know when she's ready?"

"She'll let you know. And if she doesn't, Stiles will be playing middleman, I'm sure."

Scott paused, his brow furrowed. "Middleman…"

"He's gotten pretty good at it over the years."

"Yeah," he muttered. But he wasn't thinking of Stiles. What he really needed was to talk to someone else, someone just as close to Malia that might have another perspective on things. Someone like Allison. She would tell him how Malia was doing… right? Sighing, he pushed off the wall. "I need to get ready for school."

"Okay. Good talk." She gave a little rah-rah fist shake and Scott rolled his eyes.

"Bye, mom." He stepped deeper into the bathroom and swung the door shut.

"Have a good day at school!" she called out to him as she left.

Yeah, right. At this point, he was just hoping he didn't snap and maul someone.

…

Malia sat slumped down in the passenger seat, her bag in her lap, glaring at the radio.

"Is it the music or the moon that's making that face?" Stiles wondered.

"A little of both. The static doesn't bother you?"

He shrugged. "It's an old jeep. I hardly notice it anymore. Anyway, don't dodge the real question. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, mostly. I didn't get much sleep."

"Because you're worried."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm worried."

"Okay, but what part worries you more? Attacking someone or turning?"

Reaching out, Malia socked him in the shoulder. "What kind of question is that?"

Mouth wide open in a silent shout, he glared at her. "Ow! Did you forget you have super-human strength?"

Pursing her lips, she stared him down through narrowed eyes. "No. I didn't."

Rubbing his arm, he sighed. "All right, fine. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I meant which one feels more likely. Turning into the big, bad coyote or tearing out someone's jugular. But given the early morning violence… I think I can guess."

"I don't know, okay? That's the part that's freaking me out. I won't know until I'm right in the middle of it, with everyone's stupid feelings overwhelming me." Crossing her arms, she slumped down even lower. "I should've skipped. This is beyond risky."

"Definitely. But... It's a good learning experience, right? And hey, nothing says you can't skip out if you feel like things are going sideways."

She perked up a little. "That actually helps," she admitted.

Stiles let out an offended scoff. "You say that like you're surprised I had a good idea."

Her lips quirked at the corner. "Maybe I am."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What happened to last night's 'I believe you'll make the right choices for Scott'?"

"I still believe that." She shrugged. "You're good in a crisis."

"Why do I here a 'but' coming?"

"But we're not at crisis mode..." She stared out the window; the school was just a brown block in the far distance. "Yet."

…

Stiles leaned against the bank of lockers, a hand hooked around the strap of his backpack, watching her curiously. "Feel anything yet?"

"Irritation. At you." Malia opened her locker and dug around inside for her books. "For asking me that every five seconds."

"Hey, I waited at least five minutes before saying anything." He turned his head and looked around the hallway. "Maybe it affects you differently, you know? Like maybe coyotes have a higher threshold for this stuff."

Malia's mouth twisted. "I doubt it."

"All right, Pessimistic Polly. All I'm saying is that maybe we should try hoping for the best. What could it hurt?"

"Isn't it better to be cautious? If something sets me off, it could hurt a lot of people, and not metaphorically."

Stiles sighed. "Okay, so, we prepare for the worst. Which means we find a way to keep you calm and semi-happy."

"Semi?"

"I'm not expecting miracles here."

She snorted. "Thanks."

"Hey, you're not the only one suffering, all right? I have a chem test first thing this morning."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Boo-hoo," but her mouth was inching up in a smile.

Stiles half-grinned at her. "See? We can do this." With a nod, he started backing away. "I gotta go. My dad's dropping by the school to talk to the principal and I wanna catch him."

Malia's brow furrowed.

"I just wanna warn him."

"Stiles…"

"I won't tell him everything." He waved a hand to quiet her. "I just need him to be careful, that's all."

Blowing out a heavy sigh, she nodded. "I get it."

With a wink, he turned on his heel to leave.

Malia watched him go before returning to her locker. She was just pulling down her books when a familiar face popped up next to her. Brightening, she managed a full-fledged smile. "Hey!"

"Hey." Danny rested a shoulder against the lockers and hooked his hand around the strap of his side-bag. "So… how are we feeling about this test?"

Malia's nose scrunched up. "I hate math on a good day… And today's not a good day." Closing her locker, she tucked her books in the crook of one arm and started walking. "Have you got my Skittles?"

"Yeah, but you're not getting them until after you finish your test. Anyway, you don't need a sugar rush this early in the morning."

"I doubt sugar's going to do much." Malia shrugged. "But fine. What'd you wanna talk about? Something about a theory Erica had?"

The bell rang shrilly then and Malia frowned.

Danny grinned, dimples popping handsomely. "Right. The theory." He raised an eyebrow at her. "We should talk about it at lunch. All three of us." He pointed a thumb toward a connecting hallway. "I'm going this way."

"What? That's it?" She scowled. "That's all I get?"

Danny shrugged. "If I say anything now, you'll just be distracted in class."

"What makes you think not knowing is going to make me any less distracted?"

"You'll survive." With that, he turned and left.

Malia glared after him before turning to walk away. The halls quickly filled with students moving to and fro, crossing in front of her close enough that she was nearly tripping over them. The noise, already at an uncomfortable decibel, ratcheted up to her ears. Suddenly, rubber soles on polished floors sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Shoulder to shoulder with people, she felt penned in. She could feel her heart beating unsteadily against her ribcage, her hands clammy against her books. Focusing on her breathing, she moved to the edge of the hall and tried to keep her head down. She just needed to get to class. She could see the open door in the distance, familiar students filing inside.

"Malia!" A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

She went still, nearly stumbling at her abrupt stop. Turning around, she found Sheriff Stilinski in front of her. "Oh. Uh, hey…" There was a strange mixture of comfort and concern stirring around in her stomach. Stiles' dad had always been a source of kindness in her life. But not now, not when she was on edge. "If you're looking for Stiles—"

"Already saw him. He's a little anxious." The Sheriff frowned. "Can't blame him after last week, but…" Clearing his throat, he pivoted to face her better, a hand hinging on his gun belt casually. "Listen, I don't want to put too much pressure on you, but…" He looked around the hall quickly— it was mostly empty at this point, but he still lowered her voice. "You were there, and I'm gonna need a statement."

Malia nodded jerkily. "I know. Stiles mentioned it. Uh, can we do it tomorrow? I can come out to the house or the station, whatever works."

He nodded. "The sooner the better."

"I know. I'd do it today but I've got a lot on my plate." She motioned a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm actually on my way to a test right now. So… tomorrow?"

He nodded, but his gaze searched her face. "You're okay? Stiles said you were pretty shook up after."

"Yeah, I was. But… I'm doing okay. Stiles has been great. He really helped me through it."

Sheriff Stilinski half-smiled. "I'm glad to hear that." Reaching out, he patted her arm reassuringly. "We'll talk tomorrow. If anything comes up in the mean time, you let me know."

"I will."

"Okay. Get to class, all right?"

"Kay." As he walked away, Malia let out an unsteady sigh, sent her gaze to the ceiling, and shook her head. Turning around, she stepped forward, eager to get to class and put this already tense morning behind her. Only, she hadn't made it a full step before she knocked into something. More aptly, someone.

Blinking wide eyes, she found herself face to face with—

"Scott!" Her voice sounded loud and strangled to her ears; she hoped he didn't notice.

He stared back at her, his hands wrapped loosely around her arms. "H-Hey."

"Hi."

A beat passed, and then another.

Clearing his throat, he glanced away. "Math class, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Chem test?"

He nodded.

"Okay, well… Good luck."

"You, too." His gaze found hers again, his brow furrowed. "Malia, I—"

"Miss Tate?"

She startled and looked past Scott's shoulder to see Mr. Matthews standing at the open door to her math class. Wincing, she said, "I have to go. I have a test."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry." Scott's hands abruptly dropped from her arms, fingers twisting and twitching, and he stepped to the side, out of her way.

Malia waved to her teacher, who rolled his eyes and walked back into the classroom. To Scott, she said, "Stick close to Stiles, okay?"

Scott nodded, staring hard at the floor. "Sure. Yeah."

Lingering a moment longer, she chewed her lip. It felt wrong, being this close to him, knowing he had to be struggling just as much, if not more, than her, and she wasn't doing anything to help. A week ago, she would've been first in line to get him through the day. She would've reached out to squeeze his hand or hugged him or something. But now, she couldn't. She shouldn't. She needed to start erecting some kind of wall or she was going to end up getting hurt in the end. More than she already was. Backing up, she sighed. "I'll see you later."

He didn't answer and, eventually, she turned around and walked away.

She was nearly to the door when she heard a quiet, whispered, "Lia…"

A few days ago, she would've stopped.

Not today.

Malia stepped inside her math class and immediately made her way to her seat, ignoring the stink eye that Matthews was sending her from his desk. As he began explaining the mechanics of the test, Malia sunk down into her chair. His voice became a distant, cavernous buzz in her ears, blocked out by the too-loud sound of her heartbeat hammering inside her chest. As the test was passed back along the aisle, she took the stack mechanically, dropped one on her desk and passed the others over her shoulder. Scribbling her name on the front, she opened the first page and stared at white paper and black numbers. She hated math, but she could at least appreciate that there was only ever one right answer to the question. Life was never so simple.

…

Malia walked out of her test dragging her feet. It wasn't that she thought she failed. She was pretty sure she'd at least passed, but her hearing had been wonky all throughout. She was pretty sure it was based partly on how anxious she was feeling over the test. She would go from stilted silence with the odd cough or chair squeak to being able to hear Mr. Matthews's stomach grumbling and every saliva-filled squish of someone chewing gum a classroom over. Eventually, she'd been able to block it out and focus on her test. But then her brain turned traitor and wouldn't stop replaying the sound of Scott's voice saying her name while she walked away.

She was still scratching her head over the last question when the bell rang. Circling 'B,' she grabbed up her test and her books and walked to the front. She left her paper on top of the stack, the last to be handed in, and the ventured into the busy halls.

"Hey!"

Malia turned on her heel and half-smiled when Allison approached. "Hey. How was your chem test?"

"Brutal." She rolled her eyes. "I think I passed but... I probably could've studied more this weekend."

"Maybe Harris will factor trauma into your score."

Snorting, Allison tilted her head. "I seriously doubt that."

Knowing how much of a dick Harris was... "Yeah, me too."

"What about you?" Allison elbowed her lightly. "How'd you do on your math test?"

"Eh. All right. Not as good as I should have." Malia shook her head. "I was distracted. Today's just been weird. I don't know."

"Yeah?" Allison chewed her lip. "You know, Scott ran out of class during the test... He seemed pretty upset. Stiles chased after him, too."

Malia paused and her heart thumped. "Really?"

"Yeah. They didn't come back either."

Sighing, Malia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. There were a barrage of texts from Stiles— 'scott's freaking OUT!'

—'i found his bag in the hallway...'

—'he was in the locker room. he was having a panic attack. tricked his brain into thinking it was his asthma and it WORKED! tell you about it later!'

—'just realized you were in your math test. ignore this! everything's good'

—'GREEN i mean. everything's green. we'll talk at lunch!'

Malia thumbed in a response— 'where are you now?'

Stiles was quick to answer. —'headed to next class. he's doing better but he says he can feel everybody's emotions...'

—'he said something and I'm kinda freaking out'

Malia frowned. —'what?'

She stared at the bubbles that showed Stiles was typing, until finally— 'he said I had to lock him up tonight. because if I don't...'

—'he thinks he might kill someone.'

The bell rang shrilly, and Malia looked up to see Allison staring at her worriedly. "Are you okay? You just went completely pale."

Malia swallowed tightly. "Yeah. Just... Thinking about all the ways I might've failed that test." Shaking her head, she reached out and hooked her arm around Allison's. "Come on. We're already late for class."

Smiling, Allison bumped her shoulder against Malia's. "You didn't fail. I'm sure you did great."

"'Great' might be a stretch. I'd settle for a pass."

Allison's gaze darted to the phone still clutched in Malia's hand. "Is he okay?"

Sighing, Malia shrugged. "It's just a bad day. It'll pass." Her voice sounded sure and dismissive, but her stomach was twisting up in knots.

"Did you talk to him yet... about the party?"

Malia half-smiled to hide a grimace. "Yeah, about that... I think maybe the smart thing to do here is just... let it go. He made it pretty clear that he wasn't thinking straight and whatever happened was a giant mistake, so..."

"Oh." Allison's brow furrowed. "Are you sure he—?"

"I'm sure," Malia cut her off.

Allison chewed her lip and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Whatever you want."

Malia leaned into her. "I want to get through this day and then go home and nap until tomorrow."

Snorting, Allison rolled her eyes. "I guess that's a goal."

"Sleep always is."

…

Malia liked to think she was pretty good at self-control and regulating her feelings. Others might argue that she didn't regulate so much as suppress her feelings. But that was a debate for another day. So far, Malia was doing okay. Her hearing was still wonky and her stomach was a constant pit of dread, but she was surviving. At break, she opened her locker to find Danny had left her a bag of Skittles. He also left her with the mystery of how the hell he got into her locker.

A sudden bang against the series of lockers next to her had her heart leaping into her throat until she turned to find Stiles standing a foot away from her, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows hiked in the universal sign of 'what the hell?!' "Did you get my texts?"

"All forty-three of them." Malia pulled out her bag of Skittles and stuck the top between her teeth as she put her books away.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Then you got the big one. The important one. The one where Scott— our Scotty— your Scott—basically said he was feeling murdery."

Closing her locker, she then used her teeth to open the edge of her Skittles bag and poured a few into the palm of her hand. "No, I got the one where he pre-emptively asked you to chain him up so he doesn't hurt anybody. That's a good thing. Maybe he's getting in tune with the wolf." Malia popped the Skittles into her mouth and chewed. "At least he's asking for help."

"Yeah, to not kill people." Stiles stared at her searchingly. 'This is big. This is huge. I mean, you didn't see him. He just up and left the class and ran off to the locker room. He was standing in the shower, couldn't breathe... It wasn't good. He said you guys ran into each other right before class... What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I told him to stick close to you, that's it."

Stiles frowned.

"Look, school gets out at three. That's plenty of time before it gets dark. You have the chains, right?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. But... I don't know. This feels weird. Wrong somehow."

"It'll feel a lot worse if he actually hurts someone."

"I get that. I just mean..." Sighing, he looked around quickly. "I mean, he's panicking a lot. He thinks you hate him."

Malia leaned back against her locker and turned her gaze to the ceiling. "I don't hate him. Obviously. I just... I want some space."

"Because you're both terrifying shifters that could tear someone's throat out or because of some other miscommunication I'm not aware of?"

Malia frowned at him. "Stiles, I love you. You're my best friend. But I'm allowed to have things, personal things, that I don't want to talk about or share or even figure out right now. Today already sucks. I ran into your dad. I maybe, hopefully passed a math test. And I just want to go home."

Stiles stared at her a beat. "All right. Okay. I can wait another day to bug you about whatever is going on." He flared his fingers out from the straps of his bag and started backing away. "Just know that I'll be dealing with him and his anxiety about you for the rest of the day, all while hoping he doesn't wolf out and attack the person nearest to him... Which is me, FYI."

Annoyed and dismissive, she waved. "Good luck with that!"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles turned on his heel to leave, and Malia did too. In the opposite direction.

Up ahead, she saw Boyd walking down the hall, on the fringes of a group of students. His head was down, oversized headphones over his ears. Deciding he probably wanted some time alone, she instead put her focus on trying to find Danny. Or Erica. Whoever might spill the 'theory' beans earlier…

…

Headaches shouldn't be possible. If she had accelerated healing, headaches should be a thing of the past, right? Wrong. Malia was having the mother of all headaches. So much so that she couldn't focus on anything the teacher was saying. To be honest, she wasn't sure what class she was in. Her hearing was overcome with the low, buzzing hum of every lightbulb overhead. Beyond that was a rattling, rushing noise from the air vents. It all felt like a hammer against her brain. She sat hunched in her chair, rubbing at her temples, trying to control her breathing. She didn't feel like she was on the verge of shifting. Instead, it felt like nausea mixed with waves of heat that left her feeling rung out and deeply uncomfortable.

The smell was the worst part, though. Malia had taken to breathing in through her mouth, but even then she could taste it. A sour, pungent flavor; a mixture of people's feelings. The strongest was desire. Horny teenagers exuding waves of lust at each other. She could choke on it. Instead, she lifted her head and attempted to glare everyone into a peacefully fear-filled state. Maybe if they were all worried about what she might do to them they'd stop thinking about what they could do to each other. But, the sudden brightness of the light against her eyes had her clenching her teeth to trap a whimper. Her eyes had never felt this sensitive before. Then again, every part of her felt sensitive to something. It was driving her nuts.

Enough so that she finally gave in. Malia lurched up from her desk, grabbed her books and hurried to the door. She heard what she thought might be the teacher calling after her, but she needed to get out. Away. She needed to drown out all the noise and just breathe.

She considered the nurse's office and then scrapped it. She'd spend too much time peppering Malia with questions about what and why and how. All things she couldn't answer. The problem was that every room had someone in it. Everywhere but the locker room. Malia checked a clock and realized she had almost an hour before the bell rang. Breaking out into a jog, she hurried down the halls and snuck her way into the locker room. Thankfully, Coach Finstock would be teaching his Economics class right now, so there was no chance of him being in his office. She shouldered through the doors and abruptly collapsed on a bench, a rush of air leaving her nose. On an inhale, her mouth twisted up.

"Gross."

Jockstraps and sweaty jerseys; she should've remembered this room would stink too.

Still, it wasn't as bad as what she'd been smelling before. Chemosignals sucked. Maybe they were good for tracking, but they were clearly the enemy when her senses were at a hundred.

Stacking her hands on her forehead, Malia tried to breathe; deep inhale, hold it, exhale slowly. Over and over. After a few minutes, she could feel herself calming down. She was still sweaty but her skin didn't feel too tight for her body anymore. She let her hands fall, her arms dangling over either side of the bench, fingers nearly brushing the floor. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to follow the maze of pipes and vents criss-crossing above. She followed each of them with her eyes, trying to see where they began and end. Over time, she became drowsy. Her breathing evened out and her eyes grew heavy. Just as she was starting to feel like maybe she was finding control again, her hearing spiked.

Rushing water. Chairs scraping on floors. Rubber soles. Pencils tapping. Cough-cough. Fabric rubbing against fabric. And the smell... It crept toward her, invading her nose, her lungs, filling her mouth and staining her tongue. A wave of heat washed over her and—

Thump.

Malia blinked.

Thump, thump, thump...

One sound, louder than the rest.

Thump, thump, thump...

Rhythmic.

And a cleaner scent, distant, but somehow strong enough to blanket the rest, to mute them from her overloaded senses.

Earth and dew, salt and pine needles.

Calm again. It fell over her like a cool breeze. Her heart slowed, her breathing stabilized, her body stopping rioting.

And then—

TAP, tap, tap...

Malia's brow furrowed. She turned her head to see a Skittle had fallen out of her pocket and bounced across the floor. It was red. Invariably, logic told her eating anything off the floor, let alone the locker room floor, was a terrible idea. The fact that it was the only Skittle she had left and hadn't realized it was in her pocket to begin with fought an earnest battle.

The shrill sound of the bell ended any discourse. It was lunch and she needed to get out of the locker room. So, she did. Ultimately, Skittle-less.

…

"You look terrible."

Malia pulled her arm from over her face and peeked out to see who was interrupting her attempt at finding some peace. Leaving the locker room was a must, but the temporary relief she'd found there had fled not long after.

Frizzy blonde hair and a semi-amused, semi-concerned face stared back.

"Hey." Malia let her arm fall across her eyes again. "I have a headache."

"Yeah? I don't really have anything for that. My dad's always worried pain meds will mess with my anti-seizure medication so I mostly have to suffer through it." Erica took a seat on the grass. Strangely, she didn't smell strongly of much. Hand soap, shampoo, deodorant, and wax, probably from the lip balm she had in her bag. No perfumes or body sprays. It was nice. Malia wondered if she could focus solely on Erica's muted smell to help block everything else. It was easier outside. The trees and the grass helped mask a lot of things.

"That must suck when you get your period," Malia mumbled. "No pain meds at all?"

"It does. I'm stuck with chocolate and hot water bottles. I used to run sometimes. I guess exercise helps with cramps, even though it's basically the last thing I'd want to do. But I'm not the most athletic person. So, running became walking became watching TV with a heating pad."

Malia snorted. "I get it."

"Really? You're probably the most athletic person I know."

"I also love sugar and would happily eat my weight in it." Tucking her arm behind her head, she blinked against the prickling light attacking her eyes. "I looked around for you at break. Couldn't find you."

"Oh, yeah, I was getting a few books for an essay I have to do..." She bit her lip. "It was weird. Being in the library."

Malia felt her heart dip. "Yeah. I've kind of been avoiding it. Made it a little difficult to get to my English class, actually."

Erica winced. "Have they said anything? A lot of people are talking about it, but nobody's really saying anything about who died."

"I don't think they can. Not until they find a body." She sighed. "Who's running the library?"

"The vice principal was in there today. Took ten minutes to sign out two books." Erica dug around in her bag and came out with a lunch. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

As if in answer, Malia's stomach grumbled. Pushing herself up, she pressed her back to the tree and pulled her bag into her lap. She'd avoided opening it earlier in case the smell was overwhelming. "Please tell me you didn't bring tuna or something. I might vomit."

"Nope. Just a ham sandwich and some chips. I think I have an orange in here somewhere, too."

"Outside pocket, left side," she said.

Erica flipped her bag around and dug an orange out of the left side pocket. She gave Malia a surprised look.

Malia shrugged. "Shape was hard to miss." Digging out her container of leftover spaghetti, Malia stuck a fork in and spun it around. "So... What's this theory Danny said you have?"

Erica went still.

Nervous. Not quite panic, but she definitely smelled nervous.

Erica's gaze bounced to Malia and then to the grass. "Uh, it's dumb. I fell down a Google rabbit-hole and wound up somewhere crazy. I don't even know why I told Danny about it..."

"What's he think?"

She paused. "I thought he'd laugh it off, but he was kind of open to it…"

"Okay. So, what is it?" Malia hadn't realized how hungry she was until she was eating. She had to curtail the urge to tip the container back and pour the spaghetti right down her throat. Erica was speaking, but Malia was distracted with trying to chew the food she had chipmunked in her cheeks while wiping sauce away with the back of her hand.

"…never really believed in anything supernatural. And I'll wave the trauma flag if you call me crazy for even thinking it. But Google kept bringing up searches for werewolves and the more I thought about it—"

"For what?" Malia looked up abruptly. She swallowed an uncomfortably large amount of unchewed spaghetti, coughed, and then repeated herself, "What came up?"

A pink tint filled Erica's cheeks. "I know. It's stupid! But I mentioned it to Danny and then he was kind of excited. I guess he read these books about supernatural lore and he had an idea that Beacon Hills might be on these things called ley lines... I don't know about that. I tried researching it, but then I just felt like a weirdo. I mean... it's crazy... Right?"

Malia stared at her, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. "How'd you get from mountain lion to werewolf?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "I was looking into big animals at first. Local animals. It's just... At the video store, the thing that attacked us... It didn't seem big to you? Like, bigger than a mountain lion?" She shook her head. "I've seen pictures of the one Allison's dad shot and... It was too small. And yeah, maybe I'm remembering it wrong. I was scared and maybe it seemed bigger than it actually was. But... I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

"So, you think werewolf fits?"

"No. Obviously. It's like I said, Google kept bringing up this weird thing about this French guy and this beast—"

"The Beast of Gévaudan," she muttered.

"Yeah! It was this man-eating wolf or something. So, then I started wondering about wolves— how big they get, if we have any here in Beacon Hills, that kind of thing. And the more I looked into it, the more stuff there was about werewolves. So... I messaged Danny. And he got kind of excited about it. Said there was this long supernatural history, something about trees. Anyway, we got carried away and now I'm here, looking like an idiot, telling you werewolves might exist, which..." She sighed. "I don't want to be that girl, who believes in werewolves."

Malia shook her head slowly. "Something crazy happens, twice, it makes sense to start looking for a reason why."

Erica picked at her sandwich, her brow furrowed. "Is there a reason? I mean, why us? Why the video store? Why the school? I can't wrap my head around it. Derek Hale's family dies in a fire and, what, he goes psycho? Decides to kill off a bunch of kids that almost got mauled by a mountain lion? Or maybe it's coincidence. Maybe we have the worst luck ever and he targets the school for no reason. Chases a bunch of teenagers around, terrorizes them, kills the janitor and the librarian, and then just takes off... I don't know. I really don't. And maybe werewolves are totally far-fetched and the worst reason ever, but... None of it makes sense, so I guess I'm trying to find something that does."

"I get it." When Malia's voice came out strained, she cleared her throat and swallowed tightly. "I mean... the coping part of it anyway. I don't think werewolves is the first place my head goes, but... whatever works."

Erica snorted. "It's just a theory."

"So is Bigfoot." Malia half-smiled. "Go big or go home."

"Ugh, terrible. That was cheesy and terrible."

Malia laughed. "What about vampires?"

Erica's brows hiked. "Vampire Bigfoot."

"See..." Malia popped a chip in her mouth. "You're catching on."

…

Malia was panicking. But not in an obvious way. At least, she hoped it wasn't obvious. It was almost the end of lunch and Erica had taken off early to get to her next class— something about getting the best seat. Malia, on the other hand, was using up her last ten minutes of freedom to try and find Stiles or Scott or both. Just someone she could talk to about the fact that not only did Erica kind of, sort of have an idea of what was going on, but apparently Danny believed in werewolves, or at least had researched the supernatural around Beacon Hills. Which simultaneously made him someone to avoid and someone to talk to. What if he knew more about werewolves? What if he was a werewolf? Wait, no. He probably wouldn't be advertising that to just anyone. And even though he and Erica were clearly becoming friends, he wouldn't just casually talk to her about it... Right? But what if he knew enough to be a threat? What if he recognized the signs in her or Scott? What if—?

Oof!

Malia face-planted against someone's chest. Whoever it was, they stumbled back a step while she stood her ground. Looking up, Malia had to swallow a groan. Jackson.

"You know, that face you make every time you see me, it's not flattering."

"For me or you?"

He snorted. "Cute."

"Uh-huh." She stepped to the side. "Anyway, I have better places to be."

"Wait!" He turned with her. "Can we talk?"

Malia hesitated. "Like normal humans or with the usual catty barbs? Because I'm not feeling great, so I might be off my game today."

He caught himself mid-eyeroll and attempted a smile. "I just wanted to talk."

"About...?"

His gaze darted around and then landed on her again. "About what happened last week... About Derek Hale..."

Malia crossed her arms. "What about it?"

He scowled. "You know, most trauma victims probably try to support each other."

"Is that what you want? Support?"

"Maybe not with that judgy tone, but... Yeah. Sure." He shrugged. "Whatever."

"It's not really a 'whatever' thing." She searched his face. "It really freaked you out, huh?"

"What, it didn't freak you out? Super Malia, running around making distractions for serial killers." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and readjusted the strap of his bookbag across his chest. "Not all of us are that sacrificial."

"It wasn't about being sacrificial. I was just trying to give you guys a chance."

Jackson stared at her through narrowed eyes. "I don't get you," he admitted. "You hate me. You always have. But somehow, you've saved my life, twice."

"Was I supposed to let you die?"

His lips pursed. "Look, I just want to know what happened that night... Everybody's saying it was Derek Hale. But the thing I don't get is that I thought you were friends with him."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah. He showed up here a couple weeks ago, asking about you or McCall... He looked like a drugged out freak. And then he lures Allison here pretending to be Scott and chases us around the school like a psycho. Danny's saying the librarian's dead, McCall and Stilinski said they saw Derek kill the custodian. So... What is it? What's the truth?"

Malia stared up at him, her throat tight. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because strangely, of the three musketeers, you're the one I trust the most... Testicle Right and Left aren't going to tell me anything. But you..." He took a step closer and stared down at her searchingly. With the face he was making and how he was purposely looking out from under a fan of long lashes, she thought he might be going for 'seductive.' It was a little hard to take seriously when the smell of his cologne was making her stomach turn. Well, that and the personality that was Jackson Whittemore. The funny thing was, she would know if he was attracted to her, and she wasn't getting even the faintest whiff of that. It could be the cologne or the body wash or the general smell of sweat that followed any athlete around. But Jackson mostly smelled expensive and suspicious.

"I..." She took a step forward until they were toe to toe and tipped her head back to stare up at him, "...know as much as you do. If you want my honest opinion, it wasn't Derek. I don't know who it was or why they did what they did. But, we survived."

A furrow formed between Jackson's brows. "You know a lot more than what you're saying."

She snorted. "What happened to trusting me?"

He gritted his teeth, his upper lip curling faintly. "Guess I was wrong."

"We all make mistakes." Malia took a step back. "Like I said, I have somewhere else to be." Turning on her heel, she walked away and willed her heart to slow down and her panic to ebb. Great, so not only did she have Erica and Danny to worry about, but it looked like Jackson was getting more suspicious, too. Could this day get any worse?

…

Scott stared at the floor as he left the locker room, pulling his jersey into place. He should be happy, he made it through school and now all he had left was lacrosse practice. Except that just became even more complicated. Co-captain. A month ago, that would be his dream come true. Or at least half of it, since sharing the title with Jackson wasn't exactly ideal. But now, today, all he could feel was defeat. Even when things were going right, they felt like they were going wrong.

Stiles grinned as he caught up, passing Scott his gear as they walked down the hall, at the tail end of the group. "Are you not freaking out? I'm freaking out!"

"What's the point? It's just a stupid title. And I could practically smell the jealousy in there."

"Wait." Stiles planted a hand on Scott's chest to draw him to a stop. "You smell jealousy?"

"Yeah, it's like I said, the full moon's turned everything up to ten."

Stiles' eyes widened. He tried to play it casually as he asked, "Can you pick up on stuff like, I don't know, desire?"

"What do you mean desire?"

"Like sexual desire?"

Scott's gaze turned flat. "Sexual desire?"

"Yeah, sexual desire. Lust, passion… arousal."

Sighing, Scott's gaze turned from Stiles to a familiar figure down the hall. "From Lydia?"

"What? No, in a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?"

Scott pinned him with a knowing look. "From Lydia to you?"

"Fine, yes, from Lydia to me," Stiles admitted through gritted teeth. "Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I've been obsessing over her since the third freakin' grade."

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"Okay, one of us doesn't get to point fingers and ask that question when they have a giant heart-shaped crush on our mutual best friend." Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Look, consider this an attempt to save myself from utterly crushing humiliation. All right? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me?" His shoulders hiked up to his ears and his hands waved dramatically. "See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out."

"Fine." Scott turned to walk away.

Stiles stared after him. "Wh— I love you. I love you! You're my best friend in the whole world."

Lydia was standing with Brandi, another sophomore that Scott could safely say he'd never spoken more than three words to. "Hey, Lydia? Can we talk for a second?"

Lydia glanced at Brandi, who took the hint and promptly left. "Of course." Lydia walked down the hall and into an open office, stepping inside and turning around to face him. "Is this about last week? You need someone to talk to?"

Scott closed the door behind him. "Just, uh, needed to ask you something."

Lydia took a seat on the desk and patted the space next to her, inviting him to join her.

He paused at the edge of the desk and stared at the floor. She was leaning toward him, he could smell her perfume wafting off her. It was nice, not too strong, subtle and floral.

"Do you, uh…" He paused, took a breath, and finally met her eyes. "I know you've been hanging out with Malia more lately… I was gonna talk to Allison about it, but…" But, the only time he'd seen Allison, she was with Malia. And as much as Malia said she and Lydia weren't friends, they were a lot closer now than they were a month ago. They even had a sleepover… That had to count for something, right? Malia didn't let just anyone stay at her house. "I was just wondering if she said anything to you… about me…"

"Said anything like…?"

Scott shifted his weight awkwardly. "I mean, after the party at Danny's…"

"Oh. You mean about the almost kiss."

Scott's brows hiked. "She said that? I mean, she called it that?"

Lydia twirled her hair around her finger and shrugged. "Something like that, yeah."

"Okay, well… What did she say?"

Lydia's chin raised. "What are you really trying to ask me, Scott?"

"I… I guess I'm wondering if… she likes me."

"Of course she does."

Scott's heartrate jumped—

"As a friend."

—and then plummeted.

"That happens sometimes, you know? People get close and before you know it, you just can't see them any other way." Lydia stared at him searchingly. "Plus, I mean… There's Cole. It's hard to compete with someone like Cole… He's handsome, popular, smart, funny… He's kind of perfect."

Scott's teeth clenched and a muscle along his jaw began to tick. His vision started to darken and a pit of— anger? jealousy? envy? — started to build up in his chest.

"But, you know, Scott, I saw what you did at the ice rink. The way you calmed Malia down. You're a good guy. Genuinely. And when we were stuck in the science lab and you wanted to go out and find her… That takes guts." She pushed off the desk and stepped toward him. "Not a lot of people would do something like that."

Scott stared down at her. Heat was flaring up inside him. Climbing his body in waves. His brain felt muddy, his thinking fuzzy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She reached out and pressed her fingers to his chest, walking them up to the neckline of his practice jersey. "That's the kind of thing most girls would jump at. And if you ask me, Malia should be grateful she has you in her life, willing to do those things, to be there for her like that…"

Scott's mouth went dry and his gaze focused on Lydia. He could feel it— her desire, her lust, her want for him. He could almost taste it. The grip he had on his control was loosening. Thread by thread, he felt himself giving in. She was right there. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to rip her pretty throat out and smear her warm blood over his skin or taste her pouty pink lips. "Would you be grateful?"

"I think you'd be surprised at just…" Her hand climbed his chest. "…how grateful…" She grinned. "…I can be."

Her fingers skimmed through his hair as she arched up and met his mouth. Scott's arms banded around her, his fingers digging into her back as he clutched her close. Each slant of his mouth felt more aggressive than the last. His brain was cloudy with desire. But was it his or hers or both? In that moment, it didn't matter. She was offering and he was taking.

Besides, it was probably better to kiss her than kill her.

…

After school, Malia was still having no luck finding her friends. She'd texted Stiles a few times, but either he was ignoring her or his phone was dead. As much as she wanted to tell him about Erica and Danny, she wondered if maybe tomorrow was a better time. Scott was probably already freaked out about the full moon, maybe their latest problem could wait one more day. Or maybe she was chickening out because she didn't want to see Scott, that was also a possibility. What she knew for sure was that school was over and the sooner she got home, the sooner she was away from any potential victims. Speaking of…

Ahead, Malia could see Allison standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at a door. A part of Malia wanted to walk away, get home, and put this whole day behind her. Another part wanted to warn her friend that maybe staying in tonight would be a good idea. Then again, Malia doubted Allison's parents would let her far out of their sight if they knew werewolves were running around Beacon Hills. Still, before she could talk herself out of it, she'd walked down the hall in Allison's direction. "Hey!"

Startled, Allison turned to her. Wide-eyed, she attempted— and failed— to smile. "Hey... Uh, I was just leaving… this way…" She pointed past Malia's shoulder.

"Really? Because the front door, where your dad is probably parked right now, is the opposite direction." Malia cocked her head, curious. "What's up? You look a little upset."

"Upset? No. No, I just... Uh... I really think..."

Worry had a funny smell. Cold ozone, the kind that makes every hair inside your nostrils stick together. "Allison, what's wrong. You're acting..." Her gaze happened to move the right. It wasn't exactly a conscious decision. All she saw at first was red. Then black. Then white. The window of the door was small, but the view was clear enough.

Scott and Lydia, wrapped around each other, a kiss that had them pulling and pushing at each other. Aggressive and passionate.

Malia's heart plummeted into her stomach and then to her feet.

Allison's hand found her arm, but the weight of it was distant, like she was feeling it through three layers of clothing, a vague pressure and nothing else. "Malia... I'm so sorry."

She couldn't tear her eyes away. Lydia's fingers carding through Scott's hair. Her hand gripping his shoulder. And the way Scott pulled her in...

Malia's eyes burned and she turned forward, away from it, staring past Allison's shoulder and down the hall. "I—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed once, twice, a third time. And then, a strangled— "I have to go."

"I'll come with you." A wave of pity flowed off Allison; it made Malia's stomach curdle.

Malia shook her head. "No. I... It's fine. I'll be fine."

Allison's expression screamed doubt. "School's over. I don't have my car, but we can walk somewhere... I just have to let my dad know. He'll understand."

"No, really." She licked her lips. "I'm just gonna head home. I haven't felt good all day. I think I'm coming down with something."

Allison chewed her lip. "I can come over. We can hang out, talk, or just watch a movie and not think about it at all. I'm fine with either."

Malia backed away. "Maybe later."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. I'll text you." Not waiting for another response, Malia turned on her heel and fled. It took everything in her not to break out in an obvious and completely humiliating run. Instead, she walked calmly to the end of the hall and, when she was sure she was out of Allison's sight, then she ran. Down the hall, out the door, across the parking lot, and two blocks over until she reached a bus stop. Stiles had offered to drive her home, but that would mean staying. It would mean waiting for Scott and Stiles to finish lacrosse practice. It would mean sitting in the same jeep, feet away from Scott, knowing he'd just had his mouth on Lydia Martin's.

Malia wanted to laugh. A hysterical, cracked laugh was climbing up her throat. She sat on a bench in front of the bus stop, her hands on her knees, and tried to breathe. She was angry. She was pissed, actually. But more than that, she was hurt. Lydia wasn't her friend. She owed her no loyalty. But barely two days ago she was telling Malia to go for it.

'If it's not you, it'll be someone else.'

Malia hadn't expected it would be Lydia, though.

And Scott… Maybe it was the moon, but still. Of everyone he could kiss, he chose Lydia? Two nights ago, she could almost believe that their near kiss meant something. That it was coming from a place of genuine desire. And when that hope had been dashed, she'd realized she needed space and time, but she could get through it. And in just a few seconds, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time seeing the wrong thing, left her feeling empty. Scott was his own person, he could be with whoever he wanted to be. But could she not have just a little bit of time to adjust? Some time to sort through her feelings and put them aside. Or, more likely, to bury them in a lock box and never speak or thing of them again.

Standing abruptly, she felt her knees shake. She needed to leave, to get somewhere less populated. Her stomach twisted and turned violently. The shift was coming. She could feel it percolating under her skin— waiting. For a sign, a trigger, something. Leaving the bus stop, Malia cut down an alley. She picked up her pace until she was basically running, nothing but the crunch of gravel underfoot echoing in her ears. She kept moving until she could see trees up ahead— the preserve.

Cutting across the road, she ducked inside. Her breathing was erratic and it wasn't just from running. It was panic. Fear was swamping her and it wasn't letting up. Malia ran as far as she could, with no destination in mind. Just as deep into the woods and as far away from people as she could get. She stumbled to a stop next to a creek and fell to her knees. She dipped her hands into the water, cupped them to make a bowl, and brought it to her face. Her skin felt too hot and the water was like a sudden balm to that. But it wasn't going to last.

She shrugged her bag off and her jacket followed. To be safe, she removed her necklace and shoved it into her bag too. The sun was still out, but she had a feeling her body wasn't going to wait for it. The coyote wanted out. She could feel it pacing inside of her, tearing at her insides, clawing up her throat.

She was far away from the paths, but that didn't mean anything. There could still be people out there. And once she turned, she wasn't sure she'd have any control over what she did.

Derek.

She dug her phone out from her bag and thumbed through it until she reached Miguel. Holding it to her ear, she focused on her breathing, a hand pressed hard over her quick-beating heart.

It rang and rang and rang.

Damn it.

Malia hung up and tried again.

But wherever Derek was, whatever he was doing, he didn't answer.

That was the last straw.

Suddenly, it became all too clear that Malia had nobody she could turn to. Nobody to help her through this moment. The majority of her friends had no idea what she was. At least one of them might turn her over to her dad for the slaughter. And the few who did know were out of reach.

Malia felt the tearing sensation start at her chest. She clenched her teeth shut around a scream. Falling forward, her fingers dug into the damp earth. Her teeth elongated, scraping at her lips. Her nails became claws, scoring at the dirt. She rolled her neck as fur sprouted across her face. And her vision went red, then green. Her skin broke open; it was like she was splitting at the seams. Her bones cracked and broke, realigning themselves. She felt like one of those Rubik's Cubes, where everything was twisting and turning until the right pattern emerged.

Eventually, the pain grew to be too much, and Malia's vision went dark.

…

Betrayal!

Her Boy with The Green Girl.

No, not hers. Not anymore.

The Boy.

A Boy.

She would eat their livers and chew on their eyes. She would pluck every green hair from the girl's head and use it to line the floor of her den.

How dare they!

She fought the Alpha for him, for them, for the pack. She fought and bled and chased for him. And for what?

Stupid wolves.

Mangy, stinky dogs.

They would pay for their disloyalty.

Soon. She loped across the creek and felt cool water soak her paws. Soon, but not now.

Now, she had a mission.

Taking off at a jog, she moved through the woods silently, gracefully. She darted through bushes and brush, leapt over logs, and climbed a steep hill. She stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the town. Tonight, when the moon was full, the Alpha would come. He would chase and hunt and kill again. But she would find him. She would run him down and defend her territory. She would tear the pelt from his back and use it to keep warm in the winter. She would bathe in his blood and Lia could wear his teeth like a necklace.

Tonight was her night. She would show Lia what she could do. What they could do together.

In the meantime, she would make a home, somewhere safe and quiet and far from the others. The betrayers. The omegas. They would not be allowed in her woods. They would not visit her den.

Only pack.

author's note: i planned to have this chapter up ages ago, but then i got an ear infection and i was so deeply uncomfortable that writing was just not an option. i've also edited this so many times that my eyes refuse to properly read it anymore and i feel like if i keep doing that, i'll never post it. i'm sure there are still mistakes, so let me know if you spot them and i will certainly fix them.

i wanted malia's struggle with the moon to be a little different from scott's. there are times when she feels like she has control and other times where it really caves in on her. i think a lot of what influenced scott's original turmoil was that he and allison had broken up and he was so focused on whether or not he could win her back. i'll be delving more into scott's feelings next chapter, but stiles touches on a big piece when he tells malia that scott thinks she hates him. they're distant right now, which is probably the worst time for it, and that's going to come to a head in the next chapter for sure.

i waffled over whether i was going to include the scott/lydia kiss right up until i realized i was threading in moments where lydia was noticing the connection between scott and malia and comparing it to her own relationship with jackson, which is very much on the rocks. it's obvious to people, even those that aren't close to them, that malia and scott care about each other and it's hard to miss how they support one another through everything. and as much as lydia emphasizes the need for her partner to be popular, it's clear she feels she's missing out on something. for lydia, her life feels like it's spiraling and the one person who should be helping her through it is distracted and unsupportive. plus, malia has no trouble pointing out these things in a blunt way that lydia doesn't really appreciate. this all culminates in her taking a chance when it's presented to her. she and malia aren't friends yet, but they're friendly enough that this is definitely still a shitty thing to do. especially considering the recent conversation she had with malia and allison.

much of this chapter is really a set up for what happens next chapter, which i'm really excited about, just because it's very emotional and there's an intensity to everything that's going on.

again, sorry for the long wait! thank you to everyone who continues to read and comment! i'm still behind on those, but i figured it was better to focus on editing than replying. i will try my best to get back to comments tomorrow!

things to look forward to next chapter: scott loses control; stiles freaks out; derek has a plan; the coyote has a mission; and forgiveness doesn't come easy.

thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina