small crime - stydia

01. anchor

   Stiles still had nightmares, most of them less real, but not less terrifying; he still woke up feeling like he couldn't breathe at times, trying hard not to scream. Truly though, feeling Malia's arms around him when he opened his eyes put his heart at ease, but didn't shake off the constant fear that he would end up harming his friends again, that not only was his body too fragile for that reality, but also his mind.

   It had gotten worse since the fight with Malia, as much as it hurt his masculinity, Malia made him feel safe, not only that, but not knowing if she was safe was like being stabbed multiple times, it gave him nightmares to think about what Peter could be doing to her mind and he hated it, every single part of it. Not knowing was always worse than knowing, especially when it involved that supernatural world that was still so new to him, especially when not knowing could cause someone's death, Malia's death for that matter.

   He woke up crying that night again, his legs shaking and palms sweaty, the nightmare still vivid in his mind as he tried to catch his breath, he couldn't do that anymore, he couldn't keep hiding his agony behind witty remarks, Stiles needed to open up, he needed to talk, he needed to tell someone he wasn't fine, someone needed to know he wasn't okay, but Malia wouldn't talk to him, in fact he pretty much knew she didn't want to see him or hear his voice at all.

   So he called Lydia.

   Stiles wasn't sure if that was a good idea at all, but he sure as hell didn't want to call Scott, the other had enough to think on his own, and after what had happened to Allison, the boy knew his best friend didn't need him complaining about his meaningless (or so he hoped) nightmares. Talking to his father was never an option, with all the bills, and also he was still getting used to the fact life wasn't exactly the way he thought it was... It was too much for him to handle, not to mention the fact he had just dealt with almost losing Stiles, he wouldn't throw more supernatural shit on his back.

   The both of them, Lydia and Stiles, didn't really talk about things like that, not even once, as in, Stiles never looked for her to talk about how he was feeling, the contrary happened often, but he was never the one to bother his friends with his problems, so he didn't know if she was going to answer to his desperate cry for help and show up at his house, Stiles didn't even know if she was awake at such a time, or she had seen the texts he sent after Lydia didn't pick up the phone. But he still remembered how she had saved him from his panic attack not too long ago, and he hoped she would help him now that his whole life felt like a constant panic attack.

   It took enough time for Stiles to hurt himself, not willingly of course, but out of stress and overwhelming fear, he had ended up digging his nails too deep in the flesh of his palms, trying to stop the shaking of his hands, just enough time for it to bleed superficially before Lydia replied saying she would be there, be there for him.