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In the weeks that come after the demise of the Dread Doctors and the calamity at Eichen House, after they vanquish the beast and Kira disappears into the desert, Malia finds herself spending more and more time with Lydia.
It's not a conscious decision at first; it's just that with all that's happened, she's even more behind on homework than usual and it's easier to focus when Lydia is around, helping her when she needs it or reminding her to stop taking Buzzfeed quizzes when she's supposed to be writing a history paper. Some nights, where she has a major project due the next day or she just doesn't want to be at home, she sleeps over, curled up on the other side of Lydia's huge bed, all too aware of how Lydia's warmth and scent seem to be ingrained in every inch of the sheets and pillows.
She'd never really paid much attention to Lydia's smell before, but as the school year continues to progress, it becomes harder and harder to ignore it. It becomes impossible to sleep in her own bed unless she can smell Lydia somehow.
Lydia never says anything about it, but after two months, she takes to leaving a sweater in Malia's locker or 'forgetting' a blouse at Malia's house.
After that, they stop sleeping so far apart. Malia stops hugging the edge of the bed and lets herself spread out, until her toes routinely brush against Lydia's. The strands of their hair end up twisted together on the pillows and Malia becomes more and more accustomed to feeling Lydia's breath gently brushing against her shoulder.
One night, when they're lying there just barely touching, Malia clears her throat and says:
"You saved my life."
She still has nightmares, occasionally, of that night. She wakes up with the feeling of her mother's hand wrapped tight around her neck, claws descending towards her throat, feeling completely and utterly helpless until the fog of sleep clears.
She wakes up still able to hear Lydia's scream echoing around the room, saving her when they were half a city away from each other.
"You helped save mine," Lydia says in return, moving closer until they're finally touching, no barely about it. Her head rests against Malia's shoulder and her hip presses into her side, skin warm and soft where her tank top has ridden up.
"I think we're even now," she continues and as her fingers slowly tangle with Malia's, it feels like all the events of the past two months click into place, like an assembly of puzzle pieces finally slotting together.
"Yeah," Malia replies, sighing deeply, sinking further into the bed. "I think we are."