It takes Lydia exactly five seconds to stop one of my worst panic attacks.

These episodes are not new to me. They have been happening ever since my mom was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, which is terminal. Facing death as such a young age will do a number of unpleasant things to a kid…like force you to grow up too fast, take away your sense of security, and make you hate yourself for not behaving better. For one such as myself – already a bit of a live wire, always on edge – panic attacks are pretty much unavoidable after a gut punch like that. So, when you've already lost your mom, and now your dad – the guy you have relied on your entire life, the one whom you let down and disappoint on a regular basis, but who still loves you – when your dad has been kidnapped by a psychotic, dark Druid with a penchant for human sacrifice, who also spent half a semester posing as your English teacher, and you realize that by tomorrow you might be an orphan, well then, you have a panic attack.

I feel it coming on as soon as I read the text from Isaac explaining that Chris Argent, the third and final guardian Jennifer Blake targeted as a sacrifice, has been taken. All of the classic symptoms creep in – the head-spinning terror, trembling hands, sweating, chest pain, trouble breathing, and the complete inability to control any of it. But Lydia is with me, and she immediately knows something is wrong.

Once I tell her what's happening, she pulls me aside and into the locker room. The next thing I know, we are sitting on the floor as I'm clutching my chest and gasping for air.

It's one of the few times I see her unsure of herself.

"Just try and think about something else, anything else."

"Like what?"

"Uh, happy things. Good things. Uh…friends, family."

I'm sure I make an incredulous sort of face in response.

"Oh, I mean...not family. Okay, uh, just...try and slow your breathing."

"I can't. I can't."

She takes my face in her dainty hands. They're cold, but I don't mind because her thumbs are soothing the fire as she grazes them back and forth over my cheekbones.

"Shh...shh... Stiles, look at me. Shh...look at me. Shh...Stiles."

And then her lips are on mine, and my mind is blown. There isn't a thought in my head except: Lydia is kissing me! Then, for reasons still unknown, I begin to count. By the time I get to five, the pain is gone, the dizziness has passed, and my heart rate is back to normal. For the remaining six, impossibly glorious seconds, I kiss her back – and it's one of the greatest moments of my life. Her impossibly perfect pink lips are soft, and they taste like the peach lip gloss she always wears. Her cute little nose is smashed against mine, and her eyelashes are tickling my skin.

Is this what dying feels like? I wonder, because if it is, then this is not so bad.

I immediately feel the lack of her when her lips break contact, but she lets her forehead linger against mine for a few extra seconds and it reassures me.

When she pulls away, I open my eyes. I notice it takes her a bit longer to do the same, and I'm not prepared for what I see when she does. Her eyes are wide and shining with tears that don't fall, she's pursing her lips in that adorable way she does when she's nervous, and she is as flushed as I must be.

This is an important detail because Lydia Martin does not blush…or at least she didn't used to. She insists it's my fault that she hasn't been able to stop this recurring response since that day, and from where I stand, that knowledge alone is enough to send me into another panic attack.

Anyway, the look on her face just then, is the first glimmer of hope I've had in a long time…and it's like the third grade all over again. I'm in the middle of one of the darkest times of my life, but Lydia makes the sun come out for me because I think…maybe, just maybe it's possible that she feels something more for me than friendship. Although she hasn't said a word, it's as if her heart is whispering to me.

*I hear it in your heart

I love her so much that the aching in my chest returns. And my hands, they never stop trembling, but I'm pretty sure that is more to do with the remarkable strawberry-blonde sitting in front of me, and not another panic attack. I'm also pretty sure that if I wasn't already on the ground, I would have dropped to my knees in front of her and handed her my heart, right then and there.

*It's yours for you to take

It's always been hers anyway.

But I don't want to scare her, so I manage to gather enough control to ask, "How'd you do that?"

What I'm really asking is: How in the world did you manage to slow my heart rate? Because generally speaking, the mere thought of Lydia, even right now, causes the opposite to happen.

"I, uh... I read once that...holding your breath could stop a panic attack. So…when I kissed you... you held your breath," she answers.

"I did?"

"Yeah. You did. "

What I really want to say is: I love you, and you are the best thing that ever happened to me, but I settle for…

"That's really smart."

Five minutes before my panic attack, if anyone would have told me that the feeling of Lydia's lips on mine would slow my heart rate and steady my breathing, I would have told them it was impossible. But that's one of her many charms. Lydia has the power to excite and to still me, sometimes simultaneously, and that is a pretty amazing feat.

****
The next time Lydia shows me her love, our faces are four inches apart.

You know how you can sort of feel someone looking at you? Well, when Lydia is looking at me, I not only sense her eyes on me – they basically scorch right through me.

There are times when that is her intention, you know…like when she's frustrated with me. That's when she gives me the burning eyes of death (intimidating, but totally hot). But then there are times she thinks I don't notice that her eyes are locked on me, and I still definitely do. This was one of those times.

We are in my room. Lydia is lying across my bed. She's already kicked off her shoes, and she's got her gorgeous face propped up on her palms. Her shoulders are draped with her hair. It is so long that the strands trail down her arms and pool around her elbows. I'm hovering over a somewhat obsessive-looking spread that is plastered to the wall – newspaper clippings, photos, and notes – all connected to the latest nightmare that is plaguing Beacon Hills. The light is dim but her green eyes are gleaming at me from where I stand, six or seven feet away.

A few months ago, we studied The Great Gatsby in English class, and I can't help but draw a connection between the infamous green light and Lydia's eyes. They are calling out to me.

I turn around, hoping she hasn't noticed that my face is flushed. I'm trying to stay calm, but there's this tugging sensation around my heart that I can't ignore, so I quickly glance at her again as I reach to pick up some red string.

Barrow. Barrow. Think about finding Barrow, I remind myself.

It's not working, so I jab my upper arm with the marker I'm holding, but my weak attempt at aversion therapy is useless. She is impossibly beautiful, and I am quite possibly a massive wreck because Lydia is in my bed.

I can literally feel her looking at me. I'm tense, as usual, and her stare makes me more nervous, so I start pacing the floor and tapping the marker I've been clutching in my hand just to release the pent-up energy. I know she understands my hyperactive tendencies, but I also know I must be driving her crazy. She is probably dying to tell me to quit it, but Lydia is sweeter than most people understand, and she won't do that right now – not when it's just us and she knows how important it is that I figure this out…as soon as possible. So, instead she tries to free me from the loop of compulsion I am stuck in by asking a question.

"What do the different colored strings mean?"

"Oh, just different stages of the investigation. So green is solved, yellow is to be determined, blue's just...pretty."

"What does red mean?"

"Unsolved."

"You only have red on the board," she points out.

"Yes, I'm aware. Thank you."

The words come out more harshly than I intend. I immediately feel remorse. Lydia isn't easily insulted, but the last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. I can't help my tone this time. My love for her is ripping me apart at the seams. There she is, in my bed, looking at me with her hypnotic emerald eyes…and her lips are all pouty and stained with cherry red lipstick…and all I want to do is cross the room, pick her up, cover her with kisses, and tell her that she hung the moon and the stars.

But I'm not the guy who does that. I'm Stiles – which means I keep my head down and my mouth shut…again, even though it seems like she is calling out for me to come closer.

"Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?" she asks.

"Yep. Every day this week. It's okay though. We were onto something."

"Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?"

I know her well enough to know she is hurting right now. Is that guilt I hear in her voice too? I don't want her to feel that way. I can't stay put any longer.

I move towards the bed and kneel in front of her. We are so close, and Lydia is looking up at me with a vulnerability that I'm positive she doesn't allow anyone else to see. She's winding a length of red string around her finger so tightly that she's cutting off her circulation. I have to touch her. I reach out and still her hands, then carefully unravel the string. Maybe I think it will help her open up to me.

"Hey, Lydia. You've been right every time something like this has happened. Okay? So, don't start doubting yourself now."

I have no idea if this is helping, but she means the world to me and I have to at least try – because seeing Lydia suffering is worse than any of my own pain.

"No scent. No bomb. And I got you in trouble," she continues.

And that's when I get it.

*I sense it in your voice

Something in the way her voice lowers to a whisper and the way it trembles over the words makes me think that deep inside, she is right there with me. Lydia loves me too, and she is worried that I might be upset with her or that she hurt me.

I want to tell her that everything is okay. That it's impossible for me to ever be angry with her because I love her that much. Something else is stopping me though – fear. Fear of painfully mortifying rejection, fear of losing the friendship we have so carefully built because I impulsively crossed a line. Or maybe it's even fear of acceptance. If she feels the same, then what happens? (Uh…I dunno…maybe the feeling of complete bliss that comes with being in a healthy and fulfilling relationship. Seems like a really stupid question now.)

So, rather than bare my soul to this girl – the one who makes me implicitly aware that I am alive by causing my heart to pound so loudly that I can hear it, the one who makes me want to be a better person every time she touches my hand, the one who makes me want to get out of bed in the morning – no matter how bad things are – just to see her, the one and only girl who only has to smile at me to make me feel like every awful thing that has happened to us has been worth it because it brought us closer...

Rather than saying what I feel, I say, "Okay, look. Barrow was there. Alright? You knew it. You felt it. Okay?"

And I substitute I love you with…

"And look, if you wanted to, I'd go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it."

…so at least she might know that I would literally go anywhere with her and do anything for her.

It's all I think I'm ready to say, and all I think Lydia is ready to hear. I say those words instead of I love you, because the only thing that equals my love for her, is my desire not to mess this up.

No matter what I do, I keep failing her.

I can't live without her.

I love her.

These are the three thoughts that are running through my mind when Lydia stops breathing.

By the look on Scott's face, I'm pretty sure her heart stopped too. I know he is listening for it, but he has to be wrong. Maybe it's just so quiet that even he can't hear it.

I shake my head. No. It's not possible. It can't be true. I won't give up on her. Not now. Not when I just got her back.

After weeks in that nightmare asylum of insanity and death, otherwise known as Eichen House, she is with me again. She can't leave me now. Not when I haven't told her yet. I'm pleading with her to just show me her eyes. Tears – my tears – are spilling all over her face. I can't stop them. I don't even try. I don't care about anything but getting her to wake up for me. It's been too long already. I'm begging at this point, but Lydia has to live. It can't end like this. It can't.

"Lydia, you have to open your eyes."

Miraculously, after what seems like hours...but could have only been seconds, she does. I almost lost her again, but she takes in a sharp breath and I do the same, and my heart that stopped with hers…it can start again.

My love. My Lydia.

Her hand is gripping mine with every ounce of strength she has, she's smiling through tears that could be hers, or mine, or both of ours, and her beautiful emerald eyes are gazing back at me. There it is again. The thought that yes, Lydia loves me too, enters my mind. She hasn't said a word, but the emotion is radiating from her eyes – more powerfully than I have ever seen it. Her love is presenting itself to me slowly and deliberately, and it is ready to take up permanent residence in my heart.

*It's shining through your eyes

When I ask, she nods that she's okay. Scott and I carefully help her sit up. Her mom calls out to her from the doorway, and Lydia turns to look at her. I step back to give them space, but I can't – I won't take my eyes off Lydia. Not again. I let her out of my sight before. That left the door open for Theo to hurt her…and that is why she ended up in Eichen House. I let her down. But I will never make that mistake again because it's Lydia…and she is everything.

While her mother is holding her, Lydia's eyes are locked on me. Then she says three words I was not expecting to hear.

"Stiles saved me."

I wasn't alone, of course – it was all of us, the whole pack, but the fact that Lydia says that I saved her takes my breath away. She may have used three different words, but what I'm hearing is I love him. Even if it's not what she intended, the words Stiles saved me have the same impact…perhaps even more so, because all I have ever wanted to do is save her the way she saved me when we were eight years old.

There's another detail that stands out in this moment. Something major has shifted because Lydia said those three words in front of Scott, her mother, and Deaton…and knowing how carefully she tries to guard her emotions makes her declaration even more momentous for me.

Lydia and I have been through a ridiculous amount of trauma in a few months' time. Honestly, we never get a break from the insanity we call life here in Beacon Hills. I think I should be tired and angry at the cruelty of it all, but all I feel is grateful and all I am is in Love. I'm breathing the same air she is breathing. I can actually feel the heaviness being lifted from my shoulders every time she inhales.

I feel alive again.

While Lydia was in Eichen House, I was fumbling around in the dark…just like the eight-year-old version of myself. But here she is, waking me up and brightening my world with her impossibly beautiful light – a light that came so close to burning out. I can't even consider what that would have meant. Devastated is a word I've used in the past, but it doesn't seem to cover it anymore. It's not even a question of whether or not I can live without Lydia. We are so inextricably linked, that one of us without the other is only half of a lost soul…and that's not living at all.

And though my impossible hope for us seems a great deal more possible these days, I realize that I would set it aside if it could save her life. Even if she never returned my feelings, I would love her anyway and simply be thankful for her presence. I just need to know that Lydia is alive, and well, and happy. I just need her to be here. I just need her to keep breathing for me.

The two of us are standing outside the school. Lydia is the only person who still remembers me. I know I'm going to be taken by Ghost Riders, and now she knows it too.

It's dark. The wind is gusting fallen leaves in every direction and whipping her long hair and floral dress all around her. She is more frightened than I have ever seen her.

"Stiles, if you can see them…they're gonna..."

My instinct to protect her is kicking in. I cup her face in my hands to steady us both. I don't want her to be scared. I don't want her to be taken either. I can't fail her this time. I'm terrified too. Not just because of what is about to happen…but because, fool that I am, I still haven't told her yet.

What is wrong with me? Yes, I know, I'm an idiot.

"I know. I know. Okay. They're coming for me, so you have to get away from me right now. Okay?"

"I'm not leaving you!" she cries out.

The statement passes her lips with complete determination and without any hesitation. She's clinging to me so tightly, and her eyes are glistening. Her face is stricken with emotion…and it all clicks into place.

*You know there's something more

She loves me. I know it.

Lydia not only loves me, but she's ready to hear me say how I have felt for so long. Even more amazingly, I'm finally ready to say it.

Except now, there is so much to say and so little time. In the most impossible setting, at the most impossible time, all of the doubts in my mind are suddenly gone. Over wind that is rushing through my ears and thunder that literally seems to be crashing the world down around us, all I can hear is the sound of our hearts – hers calling out for me to stay, and mine answering back that I would never leave her if I had the choice.

Running is pointless; we're surrounded. We end up in my Jeep, and now I have my chance. Do I waste more time trying to drive away? I know the Ghost Riders won't stop until they have me, and if there is even the slightest possible chance that Lydia could be hurt in the process, I will not risk it.

I pull the key out of the ignition.

"What are you doing? We need to go," she stammers.

I look at her, and she stills me. It's not just that I see how scared she is, I can feel it too. It sends paralyzing pain through my chest, yet my desire to protect her propels me forward. I decide to use what little time we have left in a better way. She needs me right now, and I can do this one last thing for her. I can push aside my fear to be calm for her. I can tell her how I feel…before it really is too late.

"There's no time," I reply.

We gravitate towards each other, hands finding each other in the darkness.

"Lydia, I'm being erased. Okay? Just like Alex. You're gonna forget me."

"I won't... I won't—I won't."

"Lydia, you will."

But she doesn't want to, and that means everything to me. I'm not leaving until she knows.

I take a breath, and the words come pouring out. It's so easy that I surprise myself.

"Just try to find some way to remember me. Okay? Remember how you were the first girl I ever danced with?"

She nods, watery eyes staring back at me.

"Remember how I had a crush on you freshmen year…sophomore year…junior year…"

She smiles, lips and chin trembling.

"Remember how you saved my life."

"You saved my life too," she reminds me as our hands squeeze tighter.

"Just remember… Remember I love you," I affirm.

And just like that, I am torn away from my Lydia, and I don't know if I will ever see her again.

Despite how much I ache for her, I feel hopeful. For one thing, she held onto her memories of me for as long as possible, which says a great deal about our connection. For another, I'm glad that my last memory will be of her. I finally told her. If she wasn't sure before, she knows that I love her now.

And most of all, even though she didn't say it back, I know she loves me too.

It was written all over her beautiful face. I will never doubt the possibility of us again. And maybe, just maybe, that will make all the difference.

*
One voice. That's what it takes to bring me back. I'm standing on the platform of a phantom train station surrounded by countless forgotten faces.

Forgotten – like mine.

I've been trying to escape this impossible nightmare for… I don't know how long… Days…weeks…months…

Please, don't let it be months.

My only accomplishment was a while back. I was able to contact Lydia and Scott through a broken-down ham radio (another long story which involves Peter Hale, so let's not go there). It only worked for a minute or so – but I got to hear her voice, I got to hear Scott's voice.

I miss them both so much it hurts.

The connection was poor, but at least they sort of knew who I am, and Lydia remembers that I love her. I don't know what that means to her without the rest of her memories, but she knows I love her and that means a hell of a lot to me.

Right now, the others are all around me, murmuring and pushing towards the tunnels. Something is happening...

That's when I hear her.

"Stiles…"

"Lydia?"

"Stiles…"

The sound of her voice cuts through the dim and heads straight for my heart like an arrow.

"Stiles…look at me."

Where is she? Is she here? How? Did I fail her again?

"Lydia… Lydia, wait!"

The sound of a gunshot startles me. There's a lot going on at once. Ghost Riders are bringing more people in – and my dad is one of them. I'm relieved to see him, but his presence means that now the two of us are stuck here. Not good.

I'm moving closer to him, but I can still hear Lydia and it sounds like she's in the opposite direction.

"Stiles…"

"Dad, I can hear Lydia. I think...I think I can get to her. I think she can get us out of here."

He tells me to go to her – to go without him. He has to be kidding! I feel like I'm being split apart. I don't want to leave my dad, but he insists, and if I don't get to Lydia soon, I'm literally going to go out of my freaking mind.

Dad is hugging me, telling me it's alright, that we will find each other again, and I want to believe he's right. I take one more look at him, he's smiling. It's okay to go.

I've seen what happens if you try to break out of here. I should be scared, but I'm not. Lydia's voice is calling me home, and it's the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I follow her voice. I take the leap.

"When I kissed you…"

She's not only telling me she loves me, she's telling me how long it's been since she was sure of it.

"When I kissed you…"

She has loved me all this time. I wasn't imagining it. It was real.

"When I kissed you…"

She's waiting for me, making the sun come out again to show me the way.

The light is blinding, and the energy of the portal is pushing me back, but Lydia's voice is pulling me forward.

I've felt this pull before, the connection we have, the emotional tether. This is what's making it possible for me to go home. This is what will bring me back to my love.

I keep going. We have already been separated for far too long, and I would follow her anywhere.

*I'll follow all the way to the sun


Inspiration: The Sun by Frida Sundemo (featured in episode 06x10, Riders on the Storm)
All lyrics are italicized and marked with an *