This story is going to be quite lengthy, not sure exactly how long yet as I haven't completed the last few chapters, but it'll be a decent length I promise! I've been waiting to post this for a long time, hoping to get it done in full before doing so, but it's been almost a year since I started and today marks my 6 year anniversary since posting my first fanfiction ever.

I will be pretty tight-lipped on what's coming, but AU with lots of faves making appearances. Slow burn in a way, fluffy to start but the angst will most definitely come, so keep that in mind. Chapters will get longer - this one just sort of kickstarts things. A few things that happen in this chapter were inspired by some college AU prompts I've seen float around on tumblr, so credit where it's due. I unfortunately lost my xkit for a while, which meant my archive where the link was saved, so you'll just have to trust me until I can track it down again, sorry!

Can be found on tumblr at my url holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight or my AO3 of letmeinthewallsyouvebuiltaround!

Title inspired by the song by Audrye Sessions. You'll see why it fits later on ;)

I do not own Teen Wolf.

Relentless

Chapter One

Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently in the coffee cart line, wishing that university students weren't as dependent on caffeine as he was.

He was recovering from yet another late night study session, and he could really use the energy boost, however false. It was only his first semester but assignments and readings piled up quickly, and Stiles was determined not to fall behind. He was there on scholarship only, which, without it, meant he'd be shipped off back home.

Part of him didn't completely hate that plan, only because he was rather homesick, especially these days. He had his reasons for leaving in the first place, and he tried to focus on those whenever he felt the doubt creep in.

His loved ones could take care of themselves, he was sure of it, but it was still hard sometimes to convince the rest of him of that. Worrying had a way of distorting the realistic part of your mind. Without him there to physically witness their wellbeing, it could be a bit of a challenge to ever feel completely comfortable, but Stiles was working on it. He was slowly getting used to being on his own, to being away from his hometown.

What would really help would be a distraction, such as the large amount of work he wanted to get in before his next class. If the coffee line would ever move…

Stiles let his eyes wander for a distraction from his boredom, right around the time he picked up on the conversation in front of him. His eyes fell on two guys that looked like they must be on the varsity football team, broad shoulders and lean biceps and that kind of toughness to them that made him imagine a cartoon villain cracking their knuckles menacingly.

He couldn't help but glance down at his own slim figure, with his long gangly hands and lack of muscle mass and he sighed a little.

"Did you hook up with Lydia last night?" the taller of the two asked his friend.

"Nah. She said she had to study. Not sure if I believe her or not. She probably was with another guy."

"Or maybe she was blowing you off because she's not interested."

"Shut up, she's interested. We hooked up at that party during frosh week."

"That was weeks ago, and drunkenly making out isn't a one-way ticket into her pants, bro."

"Whatever. I'll get her to go out with me eventually. Rumor is she used to get around in high school, so I bet she's great in the sack."

"Keep your voice down, Romeo. She's over there."

Stiles, who had only been half-listening to the conversation, silently begging the line to hurry up—because damn did he need an IV drip of caffeine at this point—found his eyes travelling by reflex to the table the guy nodded at. His gaze landed on a beautiful girl that had to be around his age, curled tendrils of strawberry-blonde hair framing her face. She had huge, emerald green eyes and a look of concentration on her face as she sipped at her iced cappuccino and made notes in the margin of her book.

"God, redheads are so hot."

"Her hair's actually strawberry-blonde." Stiles accidentally muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, the pair heard him and turned.

"What did you say?" the shorter one asked.

He blanched. He hadn't even meant to say it, let alone for them to hear him. The cartoonish version of them flooded his mind simultaneously as he tried to speak. "Uh… I said… you can order now… with the barista who's blonde…?" he invented, thanking the lord that the line finally cleared and their turn had arrived.

"Oh. Thanks man." the taller guy said, still looking skeptical, but it was good enough for Stiles.

Stiles grimaced and stuck his hands in his pockets, cursing his stupidity. Damn his inability to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn't have been the first time it got him in trouble, but he was really trying to be better.

After he ordered his large double-double, he found himself looking back over to where Lydia was while he waited for it to be ready. The guys had sat down two tables over and looked to still be gossiping about her.

He rolled his eyes. Guys could be as bad as girls.

Stiles thanked the barista who gave him his coffee and sat down at the only table left in the café—directly next to Lydia's.

He pulled out his books from his bag, arranging his stuff just so before flipping to where he left off on his reading and readying his notebook for taking important notes.

He couldn't help letting his eyes wander back over to where the girl was sitting so close. He noticed now how well she dressed—a skirt and blouse combo with black tights and jewelry. It was clear she put effort into her appearance, if her style, hair and precise make-up application were anything to go by.

Averting his eyes quickly, the realization kicking in that he was practically examining her, he focused his attention on his work.

He was just starting to get absorbed in it when a voice sounded right next to him.

"Excuse me?"

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, having essentially forgotten that other people existed.

"Sorry."

It was Lydia, looking slightly amused but mostly apologetic and apprehensive.

"Hi. No, it's fine, I'm just naturally jumpy."

Was she here to reprimand him for his ogling? His brain scrambled for a decent excuse.

"I was wondering if I could possibly borrow one of those?"

She gestured to his highlighters, where he had six lined up of various colours. He felt himself redden. He looked like an OCD freak.

"I left mine in my dorm and really don't fancy running across campus when I've only got a few more lines to do."

Stiles corrected his throat. "Uh, yeah, I mean, if you want… which clearly you do, since you asked, so um…" He flicked his hand in that general direction and wished she would disappear so he could bury himself under the table.

"Thanks. I'll return it in a few minutes." she told him as she snatched up a yellow and walked back over to her table without another glance.

Stiles felt the two guys staring at him, and he propped his book up so he could hide his face behind it. He was such an idiot. Why couldn't he form words? Why did he suck at human interaction, especially with the attractive side of the population?

It's not like it really mattered, he reasoned as he went back to work. He didn't even know Lydia. It didn't matter what she thought of him. And in a college that big, he probably wouldn't even run into her again.

How wrong he turned out to be.

His day had been going pretty sour since the beginning. He overslept his alarm, which set off the next tumble of events. He rushed shaving, causing him to nick his cheek for the first time since he was an adolescent. The bathroom was full of people getting ready, since normally he got up at the perfect time to avoid the crowd, and he had to wait for a shower, which he would've skipped if he hadn't skipped yesterday. He didn't want to spend the day self-conscious about whether or not he was exuding an odor.

When he ran downstairs to grab a quick breakfast, there was none of his usual options for cereal, only fibre-rich old people kind, so he grabbed a muffin to go and sprinted to the building his Calculus class was in.

Upon biting into it, he realized it was not a weird-looking chocolate chip muffin like he anticipated. It was a raisin and bran muffin, which he practically gagged on and tossed in the nearest trashcan while his stomach growled in protest. He seriously hated raisins.

He was just shy of being perfectly on time for class, something that should be completely avoided for the particular professor he had, since she always started precisely on time and refused to let anyone in once the clock hand switched to a minute past. Midterms were closing in and Stiles didn't want to miss a single class, since they covered a lot of bases every time.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Stiles slipped through the other students finding seats and headed to his usual spot, only to find it already occupied.

He slowed his pace, not quite believing his eyes. It was the strawberry-blonde from the other day—Lydia.

He stopped short of the desk as other people milled around to their seats, words caught in his throat. Why was she sitting there? He had sat there every day since the semester had started. It wasn't like it was a perfect seat—the chair sort of squeaked if you shifted your weight in any way at all, it wasn't near a window, and it was not in the front row which is where she usually sat if he remembered correctly. He hadn't even put together that they had a class together. He normally was looking at the back of her head.

"Um, I'm sorry… um, that's kind of my seat." Stiles said awkwardly, feeling like a complete idiot. Everyone knew there was no seating arrangement, so he knew he was going to come off like an OCD moron, but truthfully he had his compulsive tendencies. Remembering back to his highlighter display that she definitely had noticed since she had come over to borrow one, he realized he really had nothing to fight.

Lydia looked up in surprise, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and she didn't seem to recognize him in the slightest. "There's no seating arrangement in this class. You can sit wherever you want."

"Yes, see, but I want to sit there. I always sit there. Have since day one."

She forced a smile, but he wondered why she bothered. Her tone wasn't warm in any way. "Look, class is going to start any second. I suggest you find another seat. I'm sitting here. My stuff's all unpacked, it has a decent view of the front, and I got here first. There's a few others around, just pick one."

"It's not that simple! Look, I've been having a really bad day already and that is the only left-handed desk in the room…"

A part of him wanted to bring up the 'you owe me!' for the highlighter lend, but he was already coming off extremely pathetic, and their professor chose that moment to walk through the door. By the looks of things, Lydia wasn't going to budge on it regardless.

Reluctantly, Stiles slipped away and plunked himself down a few rows back, trying not to pout in annoyance. He glared at the back of the girl's head, trying not to think about how much time she must put into her morning routine to get her hair that shiny. It was clear she was having a better day than him.

She didn't turn around once.

Stiles spent the rest of the class fuming. She looked so perfectly comfortable in his seat, like she had been the one in it the whole semester, while Stiles found his new seat's back digging into his spine and struggled to position his papers correctly to save them from sliding off his desk.

He tried, he really did, to let it go and just settle with what he had. At least he hadn't been late and missed class completely, right? At least it didn't turn into a big blowup that had the whole class of students judging him?

But when class ended, she breezed by him as if they had never had a conversation, which only annoyed him further. She wasn't even going to apologize? Wasn't even going to tell him that next time it was all his? Was he going to have to fight this girl for the rest of the term to get his rightful seat back? He didn't care how pretty she was—it was pretty easy to forget about that fact all together when she was being infuriating—what kind of person steals someone's seat in the first place?!

Stiles knew he was being a little extreme about the whole thing, but that was ADHD and irritation for you. Spend an hour fuming about something small and it is guaranteed to grow into something more.

The rest of his classes went by smoothly, despite the extra work they piled on. Technically, the professors always outlined assignments in the syllabus so students could time manage appropriately, but they never received the details of the assignment until a couple weeks prior, so it's not as though they could really do much beforehand.

When his legal ethics professor passed out the assignment for the term paper they were required to write, he almost groaned. It required using the textbook, which wasn't ideal in Stiles case, seeing as he had never bought it. It was ridiculously overpriced, and often times the professors would reference a few pages here and there and it wouldn't be used for more than that. He didn't feel like dishing out over a hundred dollars for something he might not even need to open. So far, his professor hadn't mentioned it once, so he thought he was in the clear.

Luckily, the library had a copy of most textbooks, even if they were the prior editions, so he decided that he'd head there after he grabbed some food.

He looked through the expected aisles before giving up and asking the librarian at the center desk.

"There's only one copy of that textbook here, and I gave it to another student about half an hour ago. Hopefully she'll return it to the shelf as soon as she's done."

Of course. Stiles thought bitterly, thanking the woman and tugging his bag higher on his shoulder as he headed to the back corner where the private study rooms were. It was mid-evening on a Friday night; he was hopeful that most people would be out partying and avoiding the library so he could snag the decent room, the one with actual heating and the cushioned chairs.

What with midterms coming up, he shouldn't have been at all surprised that the few rooms were taken, including the best one.

Stiles was grateful that at least it was finally the weekend, because his day couldn't get much worse.

He wondered if maybe some of them were almost done, just doing some revision before leaving to party or relax for the night. Peeking through the best one's door window, he groaned out loud at the sight before him.

Lydia was sitting comfortably inside, alone, and was not only in his preferred room, but one glimpse at the cover of the book she was reading alerted him that she was in fact the student in possession of the textbook he desperately needed. He could see the library sticker from where he was.

He had only realized earlier that day that she was in both his calculus class and his legal ethics class, so really, he should've known.

By the looks of her stuff scattered about, she wasn't planning on leaving the library any time soon, so he was out of luck on both fronts.

Stiles plopped down at the nearest table and planted his face in his bag. This girl had to be out to steal his sanity.

Lydia appraised her essay on her laptop objectively, smiling in satisfaction at her work. She had been pouring over the paper for the majority of the evening and had finally finished her first draft. She still had to insert her citations, but she usually waited until her second draft for doing that.

She always did her editing from a hardcopy, because it was too easy to miss things when reading it electronically and she liked seeing the comparisons.

Making sure she was hooked up to the school's wi-fi, she hit print and headed to the print room to collect her work.

When she left the room, she saw a guy deeply invested in his notes, a pencil between his teeth. As her eyes scanned the rest of the library, it appeared they were the only ones there, unless there were people hiding upstairs. The rest of the study rooms were now empty and the librarian had clearly gone home.

The library was usually left open rather late for those cramming students, but at about one a.m. the custodial staff would come in to clean and when they needed to lock up for the night, you had to leave.

Lydia was usually done before then, but there had been a few nights already that she had had to stay late.

She flicked on the light and walked up to the printer, frowning as she saw that it seemed to have some sort of error screen up.

Pushing some buttons, she tried to restart the direction for her paper to print.

When it whirred to life, she smiled triumphantly. She was never the best with technology, but she wasn't an idiot.

Or maybe she was, since the printer kept printing long after her essay's seven pages.

Feeling a little panicked, she looked back at the screen to see the message '712 documents pending – printing page 12/724'.

"Oh my god, no! Stop it!" she screeched, slamming the buttons on the touch screen as if that would make them work better. "Cancel! CANCEL!"

Seeing as it wasn't voice activated, her efforts were entirely pointless. Nothing seemed to be working and the screen was now flashing red. God knows what buttons she pushed in her attempts to resurrect order.

Blank page after blank page was pouring out, the odd one coming with some sort of html coding on them, and Lydia felt like the inside of her chest was going to burst. What the hell was she supposed to do?!

She couldn't locate a plug, likely tucked away behind the massive multi-purpose machine, and she tried pressing more buttons, which only made things worse, since another mechanism started going off.

"STOP IT, DAMMIT! STOP!" she screeched, beating it with the textbook in her hand, not thinking to locate the power button.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Violence and technology? Not a great mix." a voice came from behind her as she frantically attacked the printer that was almost her height.

"It won't stop!" she shouted back, not stopping her efforts until the guy's hands clasped around her wrists, pulling her back into him and dragging her away from the electronic device.

"Let me give it a try." he told her, his calm demeanour soothing her rapidly beating heart and she finally took a breath as he stepped forward and started pushing buttons, his eyes scanning the options.

A few clicks and the machine quieted, stopping its frequent printing.

"Try reprinting what you needed."

Lydia nodded and slipped away to hit print again on her laptop.

When she returned, the brunette was stapling her paper together and turned around to hand it to her.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I even did; it just started going nuts and I panicked…" She glanced up bashfully, only to catch the first glimpse of his face.

One look at his amber eyes and she recognized him instantly, a prickle of guilt sparking in her gut.

"Oh… you're the guy from this morning."

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, uh, hey."

An apology sat on her tongue, eager to spring forward, but her lips couldn't seem to form the words.

"How did you know what to do?" she asked instead, her cheeks flushing.

He glanced over at the printer and shrugged. "My dad's the sheriff in my hometown. The station has a similar one. They can be pretty finicky, so I've had some practice."

It was quiet between them for a moment.

"Well thank you, again, for your help… um…" Despite their history, she had no idea what his name was.

"Stiles."

"Excuse me?"

"My name. It's Stiles."

She felt stupid. "Oh. Sorry. I've never heard that name before."

"Well, truthfully it's a nickname. I'll save you the agony of my real first name."

She giggled without meaning to, tucking her hair behind her ear as she glanced away, embarrassed for her outburst. "I'm Lydia."

She didn't know why she felt so shy all of a sudden. Maybe it was because she had been kind of a bitch to him that morning, or maybe because of how embarrassing it was that he had seen her meltdown.

Or maybe it was because she suddenly noticed that he was pretty attractive. The moles splayed across his pale skin were oddly enticing. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, make invisible lines to connect them. His eyes were what really drew her in though—they watched her like they could read all her thoughts.

The best part about it was he seemed the type to have absolutely no idea how attractive he was. She had had her fill of boys who thought they were the next best thing.

Stiles stuck his hands in his pockets, turning his body to indicate he was leaving. He gave her a little smile. "I better head out. Good luck with everything."

She nodded, words lost, and pushed her hair back as she pretended to look over her term paper.

When she figured the coast was clear, she peeked out of the room and saw Stiles swinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.

He didn't glance back, but she wished he would. She wouldn't mind getting a glimpse of a real smile of his.