Chapter Text
Lydia’s anger never spiked at moments like this, but it was too difficult to withhold her frustration when cars were crowded all across the bridge at the most inconvenient time: before school.
She had a major biology test and her teacher would not excuse her absence this time, whether if it was because she was in the hospital or stuck in traffic. Ugh, she thought. Sometimes I just want to punch her.
Frustrated, she slammed her hand against the wheel, blaring the horn.
--
Stiles stood outside the high school, briefly conversing with the pack before they all parted ways. He itched with sudden irritation or perhaps anger.
Scott was going over safety precautions for the five-thousandth time to Stiles, Kira, Malia, and Liam. He would think that Lydia should’ve been there, too, if he hadn't gotten a message from her saying that she was stuck in traffic and she'd be late.
“We need to make sure that if we see anyone suspicious, contact someone immediately,” Scott assured them.
“Scott, you don’t have to keep repeating it, okay? I think we all understand,” Stiles spat, struggling not to punch anyone.
"Stiles," Scott started, now mirroring his angry tone.
“Stiles, he’s just trying to get it in our heads,” Kira said, defending Scott before he got just as angry as Stiles. "He wants to do what's best for the pack."
Without responding, Stiles stormed away. His heart thudded against his chest. He heard Malia call after him a few times, only making him angrier. Storming to his locker, he gathered his materials. He heard Malia come up behind him. Fuck.
"Stiles," she offered.
"What?" Stiles responded angrily, turning around swiftly.
"What the hell is wrong with you today?" she asked. "You never snap at Scott like you did back there. And you reek of anger. Are you alright?" She put her hand on his shoulder.
He shook her hand off of his shoulder. He did not want to be touched right now. "I'm fine. God, stop worrying about me all the time. It's none of your business." He slammed his locker door and left Malia, who was now just as pissed as Stiles was. He trudged off to his first period class.
--
After the traffic slowly cleared, Lydia sped up towards the school. She was more nervous than angry. She was nervous about being late, the test, the chimeras in general, and she was just nervous. It was a perpetual feeling at this point.
She pulled into the school parking lot with a heavy sigh, and her hands shook. Before she exited the car and walked towards school, she let one tear fall. One tear, one moment of weakness. And that was all.
--
As Stiles’s anger subsided, he felt an abrupt anxious flutter in his stomach. This feeling made him even more nervous, and he almost missed the teacher call his name in class.
“Stiles," he inquired. “What’s the answer?” He was impatient this time.
"Uh--I, um,” he said, scratching his neck apprehensively. There were a few snickers throughout the classroom.
Then, oddly, he felt like crying. There was never a moment in class where he’d been too embarrassed that he’d cried. At moments like this, he'd usually make a quick-witted, sarcastic remark. But this time, something emotional swept through him and he just wanted to cry.
The teacher’s face faded from miffed to sympathetic. Stiles murmured if he could leave the room, and without waiting for answer, he walked out. And as soon as he did, the silent tears fell. He leaned against a couple of lockers in the hallway next to his classroom.
He figured that these emotions intensified because of the events that had been happening in his life. Everything must’ve been building up into a multitude of emotions that interrupted him daily, without any warning signs. Instead of pondering it too long, he decided to slip back into the classroom as if he’d never left.
That is, until he ran into Lydia.
"Stiles?" he heard her call down the hallway as he tried to turn away. He didn't want her to see that he'd just been crying. "Stiles," she repeated, "don't pretend like you can't hear me."
Shit, he thought as he turned around. The attempted escape failed. He saw Lydia walk toward him from down the hallway.
"Hey," he said when she was close enough, "did you just get here?"
"Yeah. The traffic sucks and of course, it sucks the most when I was already running late." She looked into his eyes and noticed that they were tinted red. "Have you been crying?"
"Uh," Stiles started. He decided to deny it. "No."
"Are you sure? Your eyes are puffy. Are you okay?" she asked, worried.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just stressed out. I'll be fine, though," he said. She gave him a slight nod, even though she was still mildly suspicious. "Do you want me to walk you to class?"
She contemplated it and eventually decided against it. He's probably been out here for at least ten minutes. "No, you should get back to class." She started walking the other direction. His eyes followed her. "I'll see you at lunch, okay?"
"Okay," he said, then opened the door back to his class.
--
As Lydia sat in the biology room, she smirked a little when she finished the test. Turns out, her biology teacher was out sick and the substitute came in after Lydia did. She knew basically the entire thing, and it would feel nice when her teacher would look at her in admiration. She tapped her pencil as she waited. She thought about how much happened in the past week. She hardly had any time to apply to colleges, let alone try to solve the mysteries of the supernatural world.
Now that she thought about it, it would be difficult to leave this once established life. She wasn’t sure what she would do after college or which college she would attend. There was Stanford, where she’d have no trouble being accepted to. But what about her friends? Did they want to stay in California? Or did they want to leave this haunted place and find one to make new memories? She knew that she would go wherever the pack went without question. They were her priority.
All of a sudden, Lydia was feeling nostalgic. She thought about first meeting Allison; therefore, getting herself involved with this supernatural drama. She thought about first discovering that she was a banshee. Not such a happy story since she was getting strangled when she found out, but being a banshee has made a huge impact on her life. She's become friends with people that she never would have been friends with if she weren't a banshee. Good people. Her pack was her rock. Although she didn't outwardly display it all of the time, she really did love them all. She would hate to not be able to see them everyday if they completely separated during college.
She settled her thoughts with ones of the present, leading back to her contentment.
--
Stiles’s former sadness was replaced with happiness, and as the teacher lectured about the history of Europe, Stiles jotted down the notes with motivation and determination.
It’s weird, he thought. I was just about to cry and now I’m happy? In school of all places? He shook off the doubt before the bell rang, startling him. He rushed out into the already buzzing hallways of Beacon Hills High. His head ached, but he felt inspired for whatever reason.
He thought fondly of the pack, suddenly. Although they were all in a bad spot right now with the chimeras, he thought of them as his best and closest friends. It made him feel good to have them around. He then feels bad about what had happened this morning.
Stiles had decided that he owed Scott and Malia an apology for blowing up on them this morning. He texted Scott and told him to meet him before lunch. He would apologize to Malia later, as she probably needed more convincing than Scott. Forgiveness was a new skill to her.
He saw Scott turn the corner and walk toward him.
"Hey," Stiles said as Scott stood in front of him, "about this morning. I don't know why, but I really haven't been feeling like myself lately. I've been having these dramatic, uncontrollable mood swings all day and I've just been feeling off all week."
Scott gave him a knowing look. "It's because of Lydia, right?"
"What?" he asked quickly. Why was he asking that?
"Why you're acting weird. It's because of last week when Lydia was bleeding out. We all saw how you reacted. It's alright if you still-"
"Yeah, it's probably that," Stiles interrupted. He did not want to have that conversation right now. Suppressed feelings for Lydia were the last thing he wanted to discuss in the high school hallway where she-- or worse, Malia-- could easily hear. "We can talk about that later. But I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about this morning."
"It's okay," Scott said, genuinely. "Let's go to lunch."
Lunch came, and the pack gathered for their only free time during the day. They discussed the events with Tracy, as they knew more trouble was coming. Stiles nodded in agreement, but, unusually, he didn’t speak much on the topics.
"I wonder how many of them there are," Kira pondered.
"There's gotta be a lot. But we all remember what to do if one of us gets attacked again. Just follow the precautions. We have to stay together more often than not. At least until we know for sure that we're all safe," Scott said. He's been saying that same thing, rephrased a different way each time, for a week now. Stiles was about to point out how many times he's said the same thing over and over again, but he decided to keep it to himself considering Scott had just forgiven him for doing so this morning.
Lydia, too, was feeling quite reserved for her opinionated self. She ate more food, as if that would help. But on and on and on the pack went, talking about clues and predictions so much, that her head started to hurt. It was throbbing. She rubbed her temples but to no avail. Frustrated, she grunted in pain and the pack stopped mid-conversation to stare at her.
She looked up, taken aback, and said, “Sorry, really, it’s just, I have a really painful headache.”
“Yeah, me too,” Stiles said and stood up from the table. “Let’s go get some water.”
She followed him to the front door of the school. He turned around and raked his hand through his hair, then placed it on her back.
“I was talking with everyone this morning and I lashed out on Scott for just trying to remind us of something,” he stammered. She looked at him strangely. He continued, “And then, I get into history, and I suddenly want to cry. It was like, I don’t know, all of the emotions I’ve felt the past week happening one after the other today.”
“Huh,” she responded, dumbfounded. “Wait, so you’re saying you wanted to cry last week? Why is that?”
Sensing her confusing, he swallowed and moved his hands around defensively, “Oh, well you know, it’s the hormones,” he said and gave her a slightly nervous laugh. She eyed him suspiciously. “They’re always there to haunt you.”
“Stiles,” She begged.
“I’m fine, Lydia, really. Okay? Maybe I got a little emotional when…” He nodded his head, as if to signal his meaning.
They continued their walk down the hallway before stopping in front of the water fountain.
“When?” She demanded and crossed her arms.
“You know, when I saw you... on the ground... looking like you were going to die,” he answered nervously, bending down to drink some water.
"I saw," Lydia said. "You definitely looked worried."
"Of course, I was," he explained. "You're my friend."
Lydia looked up at him and smiled up at him. There was a fluttering in his stomach that he chose to ignore. We're friends, he reminded himself.
“Well, I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want any?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and rocked back and forth on her heels.
“No, I’m fine, thanks," he said, "but I can walk you to your car if you want."
"You're taking Scott's 'stay together' precaution very seriously," she said. "This is the second time today that you've offered to walk me somewhere."
He shrugged. "You never know when a chimera's gonna show up, right?" he said, mocking Scott's words in his best Scott McCall voice. She laughed briefly, even though the topic was about a serious threat. They started walking in the direction of the front door. "The Starbucks cashier could even be one." She laughed louder that time. "Don't laugh, Lyds. This is a very serious conversation."
"Very serious," she repeated, now mocking him. She put on her best serious face, but failed after a few seconds when she started laughing again.
Stiles knew that they shouldn't take this as a joke, but this was the first time he'd seen Lydia laugh in a long time. Brushes with death have stripped her of joy. The whispers she hears of death have darkened her glow. He figured that a couple of chimera jokes were worth seeing Lydia so carefree.
Stiles opened the door and held it for Lydia. They walked into the lot together.
Stiles looked over at her. She still had the remnant of a smile on her face. Her smile was contagious. He hated it, but then again, he really didn't.
She looked up when she noticed his gaze. He looked away but was still smiling.
"What?" she questioned.
"It's nothing," he replied, looking at the ground in front of him. "It's just that I haven't seen you like this in a long time."
"Like what?"
"Happy."
He looked back down at her. Even in heels, she was still a half-foot shorter than him. Her smile settled into a neutral expression.
"Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it 'happy'," she started.
"Don't ruin it," he said, laughing. She laughed, too. He missed spending time with her. He hadn't spent much of his free time with her other than trying to solve supernatural problems together. But he liked moments like this. They're nice.
They got to their car and Lydia opened the door. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later,” she said as she opened her car door. "Thanks for protecting me from all of the many chimeras that we just encountered."
"My pleasure. See you," Stiles said, then walked back to the school, smiling.
As she got into her car, she thought about what Stiles had said. He'd been having mood swings all day. Kind of similar to what Lydia had been experiencing all day. It was strange, but she passed it off as purely coincidental.
--
Lydia woke up screaming in fear.
It'd been happening a lot. Night terrors used to be a regular occurrence for Lydia after Peter attacked her, but that was almost two years ago. It's probably just the aftermath of getting stabbed by Tracy, she thought.
After she calmed down, she was in tears. Fear lingered in her mind, but she was less frantic now. She looked over at the clock. 3:26 in the morning. Fabulous, Lydia thought to herself. She still had to go to school tomorrow and she was too scared to go back to sleep.
She picked up her phone thinking that maybe watching cat videos on YouTube would ease her anxiety. She had two new messages from Scott and one from Kira. She thought at first that maybe something bad had happened, but Scott was just informing her about the pack meeting after school tomorrow and Kira had some kind of question about the AP Biology homework.
All of a sudden, Lydia felt drowsy again. She put her phone down and lied back. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell back asleep.
--
Stiles woke up screaming in fear.
He had night terrors on and off ever since the Nogitsune had first possessed him. He was just grateful that Malia wasn't there that night. Last time he had a night terror, she jerked awake and nearly clawed his face off out of fear.
His dad ran in as he has many times before and held him as he tried to calm down. After the initial panic faded, Stiles was in tears. He turned around and hugged his father thankfully, but still anxious. After the sheriff was sure that Stiles was alright, he left the room. Stiles mumbled a "thank you" as he closed the door.
Stiles looked at the clock. 3:26 in the morning. Great, Stiles thought to himself.
He tried to go back to bed, but was still jittery and scared. His breathing was heavy and staggered. He thought of good things that usually calmed him down when he was anxious. He thought of Scott, he thought of Star Wars, he thought of his father. He then remembered some advice he was given a while ago.
He held his breath for ten seconds while laying in his bed. It must have worked, because he then fell asleep five minutes later.
--
The pack gathered after school that day, and since it was Friday, they ordered pizza and decided to watch a movie after having some serious discussions. Scott knew that everyone had been emotionally unstable, so he thought bringing everyone together would make things easier.
“A lot of things happened in the past week,” Scott paused, looking around the room, “so, if anyone wants to talk about something, anything, we’re here for you.”
“What is this, therapy?” Malia said and tilted her head back on the couch.
“It's alright, Malia. I think it’s a good idea,“ Kira replied, trying not to laugh at Malia's comment.
Everyone was silent for a few moments before Liam spoke up, “Since no one’s talking, why don’t we try to guess who could be a chimera. Anyone suspicious?”
“I, for one, know that Stiles has been a little off lately...anyone else?” Scott said jokingly, although Stiles did not register this as a joke.
“What is that supposed to mean? You think I’m a chimera?” he said, offended.
“No, but maybe you have something on your mind that you should tell everyone else.”
“That’s my business. And besides, there’s nothing. I’m fine,” he said.
His heart beat quickened and he put his head in his hands. He did not want anyone to think that he was a chimera. It was all rattled in his brain.
Lydia cleared her throat. “Well, I think that instead of looking at it in a broad way, we need to narrow everyone down. We can’t be stalking random people. We need to pay attention to the ones whom we actually know.”
“That’s a good point,” Theo told her. “If it is someone random, we have to have proof. So why not start with all the possibilities.”
Lydia started to feel really anxious. A single bead of sweat dripped down her forehead.
“Okay, what does everyone think?” Stiles asked, but his pale face and sweaty palms did not go unnoticed by the rest of the pack.
“I think you’re looking really pale,” Liam said.
“No, we’re not going to get anywhere if everyone is so curious about me. Just answer the question. Someone,” He hissed.
“Look, I have no idea,” Lydia said, “but I think I need to go. I’m not feeling great.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Malia said.
“I’ll be better tomorrow,” Lydia said, rushing out the door towards her car.
Stiles couldn’t leave, too, or else they’d suspect something. So he stayed with the pack until they narrowed the names down.
--
That night was a night that Stiles wanted desperately to forget.
You killed him, he repeated in his mind for the twentieth time after his call with Scott, You killed him. Scott will never forgive you. What would he think when you tell him that you killed someone that he was trying to protect? He would hate you.
Stiles paced around his room. He felt like a psycho. A murderer. He knew that he was only trying to protect himself, but Donovan even said that he wasn't going to kill him, only eat his legs. Stiles winced at the thought. But the fact that he killed someone who wasn't even trying to kill him made Stiles feel more guilt than he'd ever felt before. He thought about how selfish his own actions were.
And what was even worse was that Scott had said that it wasn’t our goal to kill the victims. Donovan was a victim. And Stiles killed him.
He sat down on the floor by his bed and leaned against it. He put his head in his hands and silent tears escaped his eyes. He was overwhelmed and didn't know what else to do. He reached for the phone in his pocket. He dialed the number of the one person he knew he could talk to about this.
--
Lydia, who was sound asleep a minute ago, was now crying uncontrollably with an overwhelming amount of anxiety. This was different than a simple night terror.
She winced in pain. Her shoulder killed. It feels like someone tore through her flesh. She touched the skin on her shoulder to make sure she wasn't bleeding and sure enough, she wasn't.
She could feel her heart pounding swiftly in her chest and her breath sped up. Her vision was blurred with tears and she was completely disoriented. Her whole body started to shake. She could not think of anything else besides the tremendous amount of fear.
The only time she's ever felt this way was in the fifth grade when there was that big earthquake. She remembered her mom taking her to the doctor, thinking it was an asthma attack or something and they said- Wait, Lydia thought, this is a panic attack.
All of a sudden, she heard something ringing. It sounded echoed. She looked for the source of the ringing and then saw the light of her phone. She picked it up, still shaking, and answered it.
"Stiles?"
For a brief moment, they both breathed heavily through the phone. Stiles took a deep breath before responding.
“Lydia? Uh- hey,” his voice was shaky, as if he was crying.
“Stiles, what is it? Stiles?”
“I can’t--I’m--I can’t breath--” Stiles managed to say.
“Stiles, hey, listen, okay? Just try to breath steadily, just try to--”
At this point, they were both having a panic attack, and being that they were on the phone, there was nothing Lydia could think of to do.
So she sucked in and held her breath for ten seconds. After the seconds were over, she let out her breath slowly. She slumped against her bed and tried to slow her breathing. It was over. She’d done it.
Stiles suddenly felt better, and his conversation on the phone with Lydia continued.
“I’m better. I can breathe now. Are you okay? I don’t know--”
"What happened?"
"Lydia." Even though his fear calmed down, her name sounded like a broken sob coming from him.
“Stiles, just go to sleep and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Lydia urged him.
“Yeah, okay.”
Lydia sat on her bed, confused. Why was it that as soon as I was calm, he was too? Why are all our emotions connected? And we even had a headache at the same time.
As her exhaustion was too much to handle, Lydia slipped under the covers and fell asleep immediately.
When she got up a few hours later that morning, Lydia sauntered down the hallway. As she stepped into the shower, her foot slipped and her ankle twisted. She grunted in pain, but the twist was small enough to walk. It still hurt, though.
--
Stiles waited in his kitchen for Lydia to come over that day. It was Saturday, and the fact that he’d barely gotten any sleep did not make him any more tired than he’d already been for the past few weeks. He was beginning to worry that she’d be late when she walked through the door he'd left open for her, kicking her heels off and jumping when she saw Stiles sitting in the kitchen.
“Scare you?” he laughed, getting up to head towards the living room.
Strangely, his ankle was in pain and he tried to walk it off, but Lydia was eyeing him suspiciously.
“That’s weird,” he said, plopping on the couch. “My ankle was fine when I woke up this morning.”
"I twisted my ankle this morning in the shower. Stiles,” Lydia said, “I think you’re feeling my pain.” She sat beside him on the couch.
"Yeah, like sympathy pain, right?"
"No, I mean that I think you're literally feeling my pain."
He paused for a second, taking in what she just said. "What? How is that even possible? I don’t--”
"We’ve been having the same things happen to us at the same time. When you said your emotions fluctuated that day, so did mine. But those were my emotions that were fluctuating... I think you were feeling my emotions.”
“Well, that couldn’t--wait, last night, you had a panic attack. That was my fear. I caused your panic attack. It was mine and you had one because of me."
“Exactly,” Lydia replied.
“Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?”
“Stiles, that’s the third time. Don’t you get it?”
“Oh, okay. Let’s just test it. To be sure.”
“How so?”
He thought for a moment, then came up with an idea. "Go into the hallway and think of the saddest thing you've ever experienced. Bring yourself back to that moment. We'll see if I feel it, too."
Without another word, she walked into the hallway hidden from Stiles’s view.
Immediately, Allison came to her mind. She remembered the moment she knew, the moment she knew Allison was going to die. She was in the cellar with Stiles and she was overcome with utter fear that she wouldn’t see her again. And she didn’t. Her best friend was dead. She remembers the scream. She remembers crying on Stiles's shoulder after. So the tears came just like on that night. She tried to withhold her sobs as best as possible.
Stiles sat on the couch, and he thought about all the happy times of the past year to try to contradict Lydia’s emotions. Playing lacrosse when Lydia cheered him on, the formal when Lydia finally agreed to dance with him, his dad, everything. But suddenly, he couldn’t control the sudden wave of sadness that came through him. The tears fell like a waterfall and he got up, still limping, to find Lydia against the wall.
He pulled her into his arms for a meaningful embrace. Lydia nestles her head into the crook of his neck. She felt some kind of comfort from his touch. Something deep inside of her felt so right. He was her best friend. That was probably why.
Multiple times, he said he said he was sorry. "Lydia, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated through tears. He feels terrible for making her do this. She began to calm down and so did Stiles as a result.
After they pulled apart, Lydia laughed a little, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“I told you so,” she said.
Her hand traveled toward his shoulder. They both jumped back in pain.
"Are you alright?" asked Lydia, alarmed. "Wait, did something happen to your shoulder?"
"No," he said quickly.
"I felt it last night. My shoulder. It felt like someone was ripping my skin off, but there was no real wound. It still hurts like a bitch. And when I touched your shoulder... it hurt me. It was the same with my ankle. And we got sick at the same time at the pack meeting yesterday. And a week ago, we had a headache at the exact same time."
"So, we can feel each other's physical pain and emotions. What is this? What do you think it is?"
"I don't know, Stiles," she said. Both of them went to the living room and settled back onto the couch. "We can research it later. Maybe it's something supernatural."
"Maybe it has something to do with you being a banshee. Holy shit. Am I dying?"
"No, you are not dying."
"Okay," he breathes a sigh of relief. "So when did this start?"
"As far as I know, it started last week," she said. "I don't feel everything you're feeling, I'm sure. I think it's only if the emotion is extreme enough."
"Do you think there is any way to control it?"
"Probably."
"Wow, this really is weird."
"I know," Lydia said, "but we just have to deal with it, I guess."
--
That night, Stiles headed home and went straight to the computer. He had no clue what he was supposed to search. Feeling someone else’s emotions, was one he tried. Nothing significant came up. Emotional Tether, he tried again. Nothing. Supernatural Connections, this one spiked his interest. After some digging, he realized that it wasn’t connections between two people, but how all the creatures connected. He sighed. Everything he could think of only came up with results that were completely irrelevant.
Giving up, Stiles slumped back in his chair and thought about the weird occurrences between him and Lydia. Then, he thought about how far they’d come. From his obsession of her to him knowing her better than anyone. And he was pretty sure it went both ways. Because he’d never forget when she said to him, “you’re the one who always figures it out.” Which that wasn’t completely true. He felt like it took the two of them to figure things out. They were so compatible that he had to call Lydia multiple times just to get the last pieces that he needed. It's a cliché thought, but it felt like they fit together as perfectly as puzzle pieces. What Stiles lacks, Lydia makes up for. What Lydia lacks, Stiles makes up for. They make a good team. Maybe this connection was trying to tell them something. Something he's wanted for a long time.
He caught himself mid-thought. He knew he was in a relationship. It was not right for him to think that way about Lydia when he had a girlfriend. It wasn't fair to Malia, how he felt for Lydia. She was someone who’d had no question about dating him. Maybe that’s why he didn’t hesitate with Malia. But that still didn't stop Stiles from feeling something for Lydia for some reason. It just made him suppress the feelings.
--
Lydia was embarrassed about breaking down like that, but she remembered Stiles telling her that she was beautiful when she cried. That made her feel so much better. It always did. Feeling a wave of affection, Lydia thought about all those times her sophomore year when this random kid had been pining after her the entire time. Turns out, it had been since third grade. Thinking about this made her smile, because it isn’t often when a third grader keeps a crush on a girl until high school. But Stiles did.
Then Lydia couldn’t help herself when guilt came crashing into that wave of affection. She spent that entire time that he was constantly doing things for her just ignoring him. Stiles was the best thing that ever happened to Lydia; he was the only one that realized how smart she was. He made her more confident. He made her nicer and more caring. Yet Lydia threw that all away when she threw herself at guys. She didn’t do it to hurt him. She did it because she was so busy not knowing. But she did hurt him, she realized. It was all her fault.
Then Lydia realized that the affection and guilt she just felt were not rooted from her own emotions.
They were Stiles's.