"Oh god."
"What?!" Lydia gasps, exasperated.
"I..." Kira stutters and frowns, trying to understand what Scott is mouthing to her. "I- I think that Stiles just hung up on Scott."
Lydia stops breathing. "Oh no."
Kira tries to reassure her friend. "Don't panic, Lydia. Stiles is probably just overreacting, you know Stiles..."
"Yes, I do!" Lydia hisses to the phone. "And he doesn't do that lightly." In fact, Lydia can't remember a time when Stiles had hung up the phone on his best friend, not out of a situation like this. The strawberry blonde starts pacing nervously in the middle of their living room, feeling guilty to her core. "I- I'll tell him to forget about it. I can't put him through this, Kira, I can't. I shouldn't have asked, why did I even-"
"Lydia, just do what you do better. Talk to him. You'll figure out a way, you'll see. You always do," Kira encourages.
Lydia runs her free hand through her hair anxiously and her breathing picks up. "I shouldn't have said anything, I'm so stupid. I should have just told Jade that I couldn't or-"
Kira interrupts the banshee's rambling. "Do you trust Stiles?"
The question takes Lydia by surprise. It's not every day that Kira steps up and makes her stop talking, especially regarding the brown-haired boy. Lydia tries not to talk about him much. "W- What?"
Kira repeats the words slowly, smirking. "Do you trust Stiles?"
"Of course I do. With my life." Lydia has never meant anything as wholeheartedly as she means this, not that anyone understands. No one but Stiles, that is.
"Then you're gonna end this call right now and you are gonna take a deep breath. You're gonna relax and wait for that boy to get home and then you two are gonna talk it out, alright? You can do it."
Lydia can say for a fact that the kitsune has exactly the same amount of information about Stiles and Lydia's current situation as Scott does, yet somehow Kira always seems to be able to say the right thing to reassure Lydia, like for some reason she knows more than she lets on. She's been an amazing friend. "Thank you, Kira." Lydia doesn't elaborate; she's sure that Kira understands how she feels. Partly, at least.
Kira teases her friend. "Oh and let us know what you guys decide on. We need to start betting on it," she giggles in amusement.
"Ahah, very funny." Lydia chuckles, feeling just a little bit better. "Now I'm definitely ending this call." Much like Stiles, Lydia has been hearing from Kira all about how she and Stiles are apparently dating.
Which, for clarification, they're not.
"That's fine, go on. Me and Scott, we have to head inside again anyways. Talk to you tomorrow?"
"Sure. And Kira?"
"Yeah?"
No one understands. Lydia knows that just like Stiles does. Still, she smiles at their friends' intentions. "Thanks."
xxxxxxxxxx
It's easier said than done, of course. Lydia is a nerve wreck when Stiles gets home. He took way longer to get back than he usually does and it only added to her uneasiness. Not knowing what to expect always leaves her anxious, more so in the last two years, ever since the damned incident.
"Lyds?" Stiles calls for her when he enters the apartment, closing the front door behind him. Lydia mumbles something incoherent from the kitchen and Stiles notices that something is wrong the second he steps into their living room.
Everything seems tidied. His comic books and the magazines she had been reading during the afternoon are all neatly piled up on the coffee table, the empty bags of gummies they'd shared and their glasses are put away; the cushions on the sofa are all fixed. There's a floral aroma in the air and so Stiles checks the floor. Yup, Lydia mopped it as well. This is Lydia when she's nervous, and in all honesty Stiles can't help but to reciprocate the feeling for the time being.
Stiles makes his way to the kitchen to find Lydia sitting on one of the chairs, one of her legs up on the seat and clutched against her chest, her chin resting on top of her knee. The table is all set up just waiting for him, so Stiles places the bags he's carrying on one of the counters before turning to face her.
Lydia doesn't even let him speak. "Stiles, can we forget that I said anything, please?"
The banshee is looking at him intently, pleading with watery eyes and Stiles hates seeing her like this. It's how their moments usually start. He shakes his head and makes his way towards her, cupping her cheeks instantly. He speaks softly. "No. We're gonna leave it for now, we're gonna sleep on it and talk about it in the morning. Don't worry about it, okay? It's all good."
He gives her a reassuring smile and Lydia nods reluctantly, knowing that he means it. She huffs to dissipate her nerves. "Okay."
Stiles doesn't move until he sees her smile, and when she does Stiles kisses her cheek; he knows her too well. "Good. Okay, so on a slightly different note, I'm really torn about your mom," he mutters playfully, starting to busy himself with taking containers out of the bags he brought.
Lydia smiles wider and gets up to help him, knowing that he's trying to distract her and make her feel better. Her voice still comes out more of a whisper. She's already starting to feel a little weak. "How come?"
He takes a box from one of the bags and hands it to her. Opening it, Lydia finds chocolate carrot cupcakes, his favorites. She lets out a laugh. "Your mom texted me saying there was something for me at Francies," he explains. Francies is a bakery in their neighborhood. The amount of times that Stiles stops by is close to indecent and Natalie knows it all too well. "A whole dozen cupcakes," he blurts out, licking his lips absently at the sight.
His hands move to rest on his waist as he stands straighter, exaggerating his speech. "She said, and I quote, 'Stop by Francies. I ordered something for you to apologize in advance. Love you sweetheart'. She knows me, Lydia, like really knows me. And my weaknesses too!" He runs a hand through his already unruly hair. "Honestly, I don't know if I should love her or hate her." Stiles watches mesmerized as Lydia swipes a finger through the frosting of one of the cupcakes, then licks it distractedly. He has to force himself to tear his gaze away. "So uh... Anyway, that's why I took longer to come home. I had to go pick up her bribe."
"You make it look like she has this hidden agenda against you, Stiles," Lydia laughs, growing more relaxed by the second but not feeling necessarily better. Dammit. Though Stiles has a point; all things considered, Natalie does have an agenda, just not against him. But Stiles doesn't need to know that.
Lydia hands him the cupcake, stealing a bit more of its frosting in the process before Stiles takes a bite. "Well," he mumbles with a full mouth, savoring his price, "she probably has. She's just as conniving as you are, so..."
Stiles shrugs his shoulders and laughs; Lydia slaps his arm, letting out a chuckle as well. As punishment, she gets closer to him and rises on her tiptoes, taking a bite of his cupcake right out of his hand, then licking her lips. She smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks. "Funny. I thought I was far, far worse."
His heart skips a beat like it always does when she's enticing, when she's too close. Even when meaninglessly, it happens dozens of times a day; he counts himself as a very lucky guy. Thankfully, he's more than used to it by now and reciprocity is something he cherishes. Stiles relishes in the way he can work her up just as fast. "You've got a little..." He cleans a bit of frosting from the corner of her lips with his thumb, then sucks it into his mouth like it's none of his business.
Lydia purses her lips and the look they share for just a moment too long is anything but innocent, their eyes repeatedly moving from the other's gaze to their mouth, but now it's not the right time. Remember the system, she thinks to herself. Lydia takes a step back, a beautiful grin adorning her features. "Come on, lets eat."
xxxxxxxxxx
Dinner goes by just fine. They eat in peace, talking about things that are in nothing related to the wedding that they'll have to attend soon if Stiles says yes. After dinner and doing the dishes together, Stiles calls Zach – a guy they're friends with in college who is also spending the Summer break in Massachusetts – and ends up taking Lydia out for coffee with some other classmates. They have fun like they always do but Stiles knows, just like Lydia, that it's one of those nights. He feels it in the way he becomes a little more worn-out as time passes by, more breathless, anxiety riling underneath his skin in a way that makes him cringe.
He knows it because it's how Lydia feels too.
By the time they come back home it's just past midnight. They haven't mentioned the subject yet, true to Stiles' word that they'll talk about everything in the morning, but panic is already settled in. By the time they go to bed, Stiles could climb walls with all the tension. In all honesty, he doesn't know how Lydia handles it so well, at least until she caves in. He's only feeling a tiny part of what she's feeling and it makes him sick. Stiles lies in bed wide awake, unable to fall asleep for at least half an hour and this, the waiting part, is the one he hates the most. But they have a system for this, so he waits it out. Waits for her to make a move.
The system... Their whole arrangement started with the incident, a nefarious occurrence that happened about two months before the end of their senior year. The Dread Doctors had been terrorizing Beacon Hills then and things got to a breaking point, one that the pack almost didn't recover from.
Kira had left town at one point to get away from the pack – mostly from Scott – afraid of not being able to control the fox within her. Liam had been another concerning issue, growing stronger as the days went by and eventually facing off Scott with the incentive of the Dread Doctors. Not the younger wolf's fault; the villains easily got to him when he was defenseless and it was beyond Liam to fight all three of them. They had him hooked to a machine before the werewolf could have even considered yelling or howling for help.
Scott was, of course, a mess with all that the chaotic things that were happening simultaneously. Kira would barely talk to him, he tried to avoid Liam at all costs and every time Scott reached for his best friend, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Stiles was lying to him about something, keeping things from him. When the Alpha asked Lydia about it, about if she knew if there was something going on with Stiles, the banshee lied to him as well.
As for Malia, the girl had thankfully left town with the Desert Wolf as soon as she found out who her mother was, closely followed by Theo and leaving a rather stunned, yet relieved Stiles behind. After what had happened with Donovan and Stiles' growing closeness with Lydia – who he had opened up to and who supported him as he recovered from his actions and dealt with its consequences -, Stiles was already thinking of what would be the best way to break up with his girlfriend. By taking off, Malia had made it easier for him.
Stiles... Stiles was just as damaged as the rest of them but at least he had Lydia and Lydia had him, and Lydia was his constant from then on. The guilt of killing Donovan even if in self-defense just wouldn't fade and so Stiles had started to get away from the pack, closing himself from the others. Malia wouldn't understand his attitude and Stiles wouldn't explain it, and it wasn't until Lydia insisted that the brown-haired boy showed her his hurt shoulder that Stiles ended up breaking down and confessing to his actions, and Lydia had been right beside him to pick up the pieces.
Things were rough for a while. No one in the pack really trusted anyone anymore with the exception of the human and the banshee, who just grew closer despite all odds. Almost at the end of senior year and when the pack, at much cost, finally defeated the Dread Doctors, something was just not sitting well with Stiles. He kept having this suspicion that things were not really over yet, a suspicion that only grew when Lydia confessed to him that she'd been holding back a scream for a couple of days, one that she just knew deep down would be completely different from anything she had ever screamed before.
Together they came up with possible scenarios that they presented to Scott, most of them revolving around a new menace in town but the Alpha was still recovering from recent events, and the last thing he wanted was to even acknowledge the existence of another threat. To Scott, things were just getting back on track. It also didn't help that by then Stiles still hadn't confided his secret to his best friend or anyone else besides Lydia, so maybe Scott's hurt feelings had played a part on his decision of not believing Stiles.
Still, bad as everything was, Stiles didn't flail and neither did Lydia.
And that's why they were away from Beacon Hills that night, the night of the incident. Stiles and Lydia had both woken up with a bad feeling that day but had decided to ignore it, and so they went out to follow one of their leads to see what they could find; it's not like they don't have bad feelings almost every day. They intended on finding out proof concrete enough to take to Scott and make him listen about their suspicions, but instead Stiles and Lydia found themselves in harm's way.
They had been by themselves two towns away from Beacon Hills when it happened, and Lydia still remembers everything clearly, every little detail like if it had been yesterday. They had been on an abandoned building at the time, late at night as per usual, when they were attacked. Lydia still laughs humorlessly at the irony of the whole situation; for years they'd faced supernatural threats and as they investigated another one, who could tell a damned robbery would do such damage?
They had been reckless, Lydia knows that. The building was in a remote part of town and they had wrongly assumed that they'd be alone. They had no protection, they had been focused on the task at hand and Stiles hadn't even locked up the Jeep. Neither was counting with the addict, homeless guy that was lurking in the dark, lustful for the tiniest glimpse of anything wealthy to steal that he could later trade for drugs, and when he saw Lydia and Stiles walking into the building he was currently occupying, it was like fate had been traced for the man. He had studied them carefully for a while, until both the boy and the girl were comfortable enough doing whatever they were doing so that he could catch them off guard.
Before they knew it, Stiles was fighting the older man in order to try and protect Lydia while she was desperately looking around the room to find something they could defend themselves with. She could hear muffled cries of pain, both from the attacker and from Stiles, along with things being thrown to the ground or against the wall. Unfortunately for her, she also heard the distinctive slicing sound of a knife ripping through Stiles' flesh like if she were in tune with it. It's the most terrifying sound she's ever heard.
She remembers turning around quickly to still see the knife buried in Stiles' abdomen, blood spilling effortlessly as the seconds passed. Their attacker just let the knife fall and turned around to run away, taking Lydia's purse with him and leaving them with a shocked expression on his face, like he couldn't believe he'd done that. Lydia couldn't either.
She had pursed her lips so tight it had hurt her, trying her best not to let the scream out, the scream that she had known for days was coming. She rushed to Stiles' side, kneeling on his blood as Stiles all but had fallen to the ground helpless. She didn't scream his name, not just then; instead she held back the sobs that were already making her choke. Her eyes brimmed with tears; she could barely see Stiles clearly.
Stiles doesn't remember much of what happened after he got stabbed. He does remember blood, too much blood around him and recalls meeting Lydia's petrified gaze before he blacked out. Lydia can still see that moment clearly in her mind when she closes her eyes at night, the moment when he closed his. Thankfully her clinical judgement had taken charge then. Making sure that he still had a pulse and taking off her cardigan and her belt to make a tourniquet to help stop the bleeding, Lydia still can't to this day explain where she got the strength to carry Stiles' limp body back to the Jeep.
As she drove around a city that she was unfamiliar with while looking for the hospital, wasting time that she knew they couldn't afford to lose, Lydia had wanted nothing but to yell at Stiles to wake up, to stay with her, to murmur comfort words that they both needed to hear but she couldn't. Lydia wouldn't open her mouth, afraid of what was coming out. She found herself breathless soon enough, suffocating, the dead silence set inside his Jeep too much for her to bear.
By the time Lydia had stopped the vehicle in front of the hospital, she knew. She just knew and so she allowed herself to silently break down and start crying for a moment, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as hard as she could to ground herself, her heart stammering wildly in her chest before even looking his way in a last attempt of preventing what she knew was coming.
Shaking, Lydia had gotten out and rounded the Jeep, opening the door to the passenger side to find a livid, lifeless Stiles just sitting there, his blood being the only color she could really acknowledge. There had been a sense of finality to it, something that Lydia still can't really put in words other than that something seemed to have snapped inside of her, something that had Lydia falling to her knees on the rough asphalt, all of a sudden dizzy and sick to her stomach, inevitably screaming his name. She had screamed like she had never had before and like she still hopes she'll never have to again.
It had been such a powerful scream that the pack had heard it, the supernatural frequency breaking barriers at the agony that Lydia knew was depicted in her voice. It had been such a powerful scream that 5 doctors, 7 nurses and 3 passers had come rushing out of the ER to see what was happening.
It had been their luck. Hadn't they been that close to a hospital, Lydia believes that their fate would have been totally different. The medical staff had started working on Stiles right away, taking him to the resuscitation room and away from her, trying their best to revive the boy even though Lydia was sure she had lost him. A group of people had stayed behind for her, trying to get her on her feet and inside the hospital as well to check for injuries. Understandably, Lydia knows that now, since she was soaked in his blood. But she hadn't been able to move, to speak, to breathe because when Stiles' heart had stopped, so had hers.
She remembers vividly something breaking inside of her, something leaving her alone to face the world by herself, and it wasn't until Deaton explained it to her days later that she understood. Their emotional connection, the string that kept Stiles and Lydia tied to one another had been broken possibly beyond repair, something that happens in a lifetime with the death of your soulmate, and that's why Lydia couldn't feel him - and the pull that she always subconsciously knew was there - anymore. It had been weird since she had never really acknowledged his presence within her, not really, in whatever form she can call it, but Stiles had always been with her somehow but not just then. It was just like the saying; you don't know what you've got until it's gone.
Those had been the most unbearable minutes of her life, the minutes that took the doctors to revive and operate on Stiles. When she had gotten to see him – and because as soon as she had been given the news, Lydia had reasonably made a tantrum about it -, even watching him passed out but actually breathing hadn't been enough to believe it, so she wouldn't leave the room. All because she couldn't feel him; it had been like he wasn't actually there, alive and within her reach.
That's how the pack found them a few hours later; Stiles asleep in a hospital bed hooked to several machines, beaten up all over, and Lydia standing against the window, fingers fidgeting nervously as all that she could do was watch him breathe.
When they asked her what had happened, Lydia couldn't really speak at first. How do you explain that you might have just realized that the person who just died on you was your soulmate? How can you say that you can't feel them anymore, except that they're alive and might actually make it? That regardless, you're starting to wonder if the heaviness that settled in your chest is ever gonna go away?
It had been hard for the others to find the pair. They didn't even know where Stiles and Lydia were at the time and Lydia's unnatural scream had startled everyone. It had been so out of nowhere that Scott hadn't even known what to do right away. When he got together with the rest of the pack, Deaton included, it had dawned on Scott that Stiles would probably know what to do right then along with Lydia, but they were the ones that the pack needed to find.
He had opted for his next best choice and called the Sheriff, finding out that Lydia and Stiles had given the man several places where they had been supposedly headed. The Sheriff had even joked about it, saying that he had thought the kids had finally agreed on a first date and that that was the reason why they had been so secretive about it. When Scott told the man why he was calling, all humor had vanished from the Sheriff's face. If Lydia had been screaming, then she wasn't the one who was dying or the one who was already dead.
It took them almost four hours to find the right place, a combined effort of too many phone calls to the Sheriff's department, 911 and werewolf senses. When they had reached the hospital, neither Scott nor his best friend's dad really wanted to move, afraid of what they'd find. Deaton had been the first to reach out to Lydia, to break her out of her daze because he needed to know all the facts; every little detail could help the boy.
Lydia had done nothing but stuttering, blurting things out incoherently, her eyes constantly drifting to the boy lying on the bed as if not to miss a rise and fall of his chest. Deaton had instructed her not to leave his side but he didn't really have to. Lydia was never gonna leave Stiles by himself again.
It took an enormous toll on her, the traumatic event, much more than it did on Stiles and he knows that. He knows that that is why she has this episodes sometimes, extreme anxiety overruling her better judgement, fear, utter panic, worry for him, for them both. Worse, being a banshee only enhances it.
True to her word, Lydia hadn't left his side for over a month, spending her days and nights at the hospital until he was released, then spending her time at the Stilinskis despite the awkward glances both the Sheriff and her mother kept casting her. Neither had ever said much about it just like Lydia and Stiles themselves, but whatever it was that made Lydia feel more relieved from being around made Stiles feel the same way.
He only understood completely almost a month and a half after the incident, in an afternoon when Lydia - not able to keep it to herself anymore and after saying goodbye to the Sheriff once they were finished with lunch - met Stiles in his room and said that she needed to talk. Stiles had been resting on his bed, sitting against his headboard when he nodded in compliance because whatever it was that she had been keeping from him for all those weeks, it made him just as nervous. Lydia had been resolute, not hesitating when she walked to his bed and then climbed on top, timidly straddling him as they both searched the other's eyes; for what, they weren't sure.
She had started crying then, telling him everything she could remember from that god forsaken night as he mindfully listened to her, holding her close through every second of it because unlike Lydia, Stiles didn't remember everything but she did, and it hurt her the most. She explained to him what Deaton had told her, that the man had suspected for long that their connection was stronger than most, that he himself related it to the mythology around the red string of fate and the concept of soulmates, and that upon Stiles' death the rules had changed. According to the legends, Stiles and Lydia were destined, romantically or not, but they'd already had their opportunity to find each other in this lifetime.
Deaton had consulted with some friends of his in order to get more information on what could be done next. The answer had been to keep both persons close to one another and eventually the universe would balance it out. If all turned out okay, Lydia would eventually be able to feel Stiles again, now more powerfully since she was now aware of their bond. They should still try to strengthen it, but how they would do that was something that Stiles and Lydia would both have to figure out on their own.
And so they did.
Stiles had been a little skeptic when Lydia had said the word soulmate. Sure he knew they belong together, he'd always known that really, but it seemed a bit too unrealistic, like to him the concept didn't live up to what he and Lydia had and still have to this day. Like it's not a big enough concept to define them. But then Lydia had started to cry harder in his arms when she poured her heart out, confessing how she had felt when he was gone, how dreadful those minutes had been for her when he'd been dead, how the voices she hears sometimes started calling his name into the shadows, and so what followed her admissions had been instinctive, meant to be, and neither had stopped it.
They made love for the first time that day, their feelings overcoming them full force like the time they had was limited. Stiles had soothed her first, hushed her concerns away by whispering repeatedly that he was there, that he was not going anywhere, and when she calmed they had just stared at the other, studying them and their emotions just by looking into their eyes and then they were moving, Lydia's lips crashing onto his fiercely. The rest, like they say, is history.
It was supposed to be an isolated episode, a display of love to reassure the other but as the time went by, Stiles and Lydia found themselves falling into a patterned routine, one they can't really escape. It starts with Lydia (mostly Lydia) breaking down for some reason, usually insecurity about the future, concern about something that's to happen with both her and/or Stiles, or anxiety when there's a new supernatural threat around. They've learned to wait it out now, and sometimes Lydia is even able to calm herself down without needing something more but mostly she can't, so in those days she'll find Stiles.
If he's able to relax her just with cuddling, they'll cuddle the night away. If not, she'll let him know what she needs. Sometimes they just make out, sometimes they do more. What's important is that it isn't over until Lydia can feel it, it being the something she feels inside her when she finally has him with her again. Whether it is in her heart or her soul or wherever, she can feel this warmth all over and their connection is there again, the pull is almost tangible, and will be for days until something happens again and Lydia starts doubting it once more. And so the cycle restarts.
If in occasions like this they do fall in bed together, it is both natural and inevitable and neither voices what they're truly feeling towards the other mostly because they don't have to; their actions speak for themselves. But they'll also not talk about it because they're afraid that it might make matters worse, and the last thing they want and - to a biological level now – need is to be away from each other.
Because in times like these, if Lydia can't get out of the damaging, dazing state that assaults her (or Stiles, as it has happened in some instances) sometimes, Stiles will start to feel it as well. Her anxiety, her fear to be left alone, all of her insecurities will dawn on him as if they were his own. If their connection was already deep before, now is far, far more.
It's not something they have ever really talked about, their system; just a few times here and there and only when they're drunk so that they can blame it on the alcohol and pretend that it isn't an issue, but the truth is that their system is based upon repetition. After times like these - and whether they just cuddle or actually end up having sex - the next days are the ones that most certainly are a forbidden topic, because the days that follow are the ones that they pretend didn't happen.
If both Stiles and Lydia are feeling better in the morning, then they'll just be more – so much more - affectionate towards each other the next few days and that, the way they act then on itself, is already reason enough for most of the friends they have made in college to think they are a couple, much like the pack they left behind. But if they're not feeling better and they still need to work on their connection some more (which sometimes is the reality and others really isn't, even if they use it as an excuse), Stiles and Lydia will just have a couple of days for themselves and actually be a couple, not caring what other people think.
In truth they know that they're lying to themselves, and there always comes a time when one of them or both wonders about what would be so terrible if they just gave in, but then they remember that Stiles died and that Lydia almost died along with him out of grief. That she stills feels it and that now, because of their heightened connection, Stiles can feel it too. Not as strongly because Lydia is the banshee, not him, but surely strongly enough to make Stiles want to rip his heart out, and neither would ever want to do something to put their relationship in jeopardy again.
So that's what they do. They drink their emotions away and enjoy the lie while they can, then pretend it didn't happen in the first place. And however fucked up their system might be, they are not so much better. Stiles and Lydia are still not healed, but two years later their system has proved to work for them and they're still together as proof. Like Lydia had been there for him and still is, Stiles is there for her too and that's all that matters.
And that's why Stiles is waiting out on her right now. If Lydia is able to calm herself down, Stiles will know because he'll feel calmer too. If not, he already knows what comes next. And he's sure that that is what's about to happen because suddenly he feels his heart beat a little faster, his palms getting sweaty, his breathing picking up its pace and he knows, he knows that Lydia is on the other side of his bedroom door, conflicted about whether she should get in or not.
Happens every time.
"Come here, you," he murmurs, aware that she'll be able to hear him. Lydia walks in promptly, wearing the same t-shirt she had on in the afternoon. She comes in barefoot and her hair is a mess and Stiles knows that it's because she plays with it when she's nervous. She's already crying and that's never a good sign; it means that she's more worn-out than she's trying to let show and it breaks his heart, knowing that this happens because of him. He hates seeing her like this. "Come here," he hushes, making room for her on the bed and immediately letting her nuzzle against him, holding her as close as he can.
It's not this bad most of the times, but the thought of doing or wanting to do something that could screw their relationship has Lydia dreading the future, and her idea of him being her plus one at the wedding had come out without much thought. She should have never brought it up in the first place. "I can't lose you, not again," she all but whispers. Lydia sobs, curling up against his flank and crying onto his chest. "I'm sorry."
The arm he has around her waist only pulls her closer, infinite kisses placed on her forehead and the top of her head soothingly. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm okay."
Stiles always loses count to how many times he says it, reassures her that he's not going anywhere. Even if he wanted to, he's not so sure he could. They stay like that for almost an hour, until Lydia stops crying, until her breathing is evened out. Then they wait again, cuddling in silence as Lydia gives in to the voices inside her head, as she gives in to her instincts, searching to see if it's already enough.
She doesn't really feel him, not yet, but she's been trying to delay the inevitable lately. When their moments first started, it happened once every two months. About eight months after the incident, it became a monthly occurrence. Now it's every two weeks and Lydia doesn't know where it's going, mostly because a very big part of what happens it's on them and them alone, not on their connection, and she doesn't know what to do with that. They always give in though, selfish as it may be. They need the other, they want to have them but in reality they can't so they'll take whatever they can get.
"Stiles?" She hums, voice laced with sleep.
"Hmm?" He murmurs back, kissing her hair, his fingers tracing calming patterns on her arm.
"Sleep?" She asks unsure, wanting to give it a try before she ends up sleeping with him yet again.
Well, not sleep, sleep.
Sleep.
"Sure." He never questions what she wants the same way she doesn't question what he wants. They've learned to read the other like a book and what they want, they get, as long as the other is on the same page.
She places a chaste kiss on his lips and they spoon, Stiles holding Lydia close as he rests his head on the crook of her neck, gently kissing her shoulder as she tries her best to fall asleep, focusing on how loved she feels when she's in his arms, how safe. When he notices that her breathing is getting slower, Stiles stops to try and fall asleep as well, tension leaving him altogether when he hears her light snoring; a sign that, for tonight, she might not need him again.
He dozes off thinking that in the morning they'll be okay and not as frightened as they are now that things between them could take a turn. In the morning starts their good period, the days when they are what they want to be, no questions asked. They might have to postpone their conversation about the wedding though, he idly wonders. He wouldn't want to mess with their good days.
The day starts differently this time, however, and it had only happened twice like this before. Stiles is woken up by Lydia sitting beside him on the bed, nudging him softly. She doesn't say a word and waits expectant until he wakes up properly. Studying her, Stiles finds her more sad than anxious, calmer but seemingly more tired like she hasn't rested the tinniest bit, and he knows.
He knows that she needs him, and he knows what comes next.