The way you slam your body into mine reminds me
I'm alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling,
and they're only a few steps behind you.

- Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken

He wakes up choking on his screams again. The sweat on his forehead is cold. His heart is pounding so hard that it could crack open his chest at any moment, but it's also sinking, sinking down, deep into a place that he can't see, and he scrambles to grab it before it disappears.

His cell phone lights up on the bedside table, a soft buzz to snap him back to the present moment.

It's from Lydia.

I can't sleep.

He taps in his reply.

I wish I couldn't.

She doesn't answer.

But she does call him fifteen minutes later to tell him she's outside. He lets her in the back door and they tiptoe up the stairs. He stops outside the door to his father's room and listens, but there's nothing but silence. The silence of a man lying awake in bed and pretending not to notice that his teenage son just brought a girl into the house in the middle of the night. She crawls into his bed and when he asks her why she says "I know what it's like to wake up terrified and alone. Now you don't have to be alone."

He climbs in next to her, breathing her in. He's too tired to think about what it means when she takes his hand and squeezes. But it feels like she's grounding him, like he can't be dragged away into the depths of his own mind with her holding on so tight. He lets the feeling wash over him like a wave crashing over rocks, and goes back to sleep within minutes.

The sun is up when he gasps himself awake. She's still there, still holding on. She sits up and wraps her arms around his neck.

"It's okay, it's okay, you're okay," she says. She repeats it like a mantra. He wonders if these are the same lies she tells herself to stay sane.

She pulls away and moves her hand to his face. Her thumbs dab at the tears that have escaped from under his eyelashes, her fingers spread across his cheek, as if they can smooth away the panic that creases his skin. Their eyes are locked and he can't look away, her gaze is light and pure and it lifts the weight that presses into every inch of him.

His breathing slows down and he stops crying. "For a second there I thought you were going to kiss me again," he says.

She smiles and breaks the stare. He's disappointed. "No, I didn't need to. You're okay. You've got this."

"I'm not okay," he says.

"I know," she says.

He sighs and sinks back onto his pillow. He can hear his father moving about in the kitchen, and smell the coffee dripping through the filter and the eggs frying on the stove. He reaches forward and ghosts his hand over her back, letting her hair tickle his palm, but never touching her. He absentmindedly winds a strawberry blonde strand around his fingers as she draws her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees. They remain like that for a few moments, taking solace in the peace that accompanies forgetting who you are and how you got here and just appreciating the company of someone who knows you.

She looks at him over her shoulder. "Are you going to school today?"

He groans and rubs his eyes. "I guess. Unless you know of another murderous supernatural being that is hell-bent on destroying this godforsaken town."

She shakes her head, arches her back in a stretch and gets out of the bed, pulling on her sneakers and tying her hair up in a ponytail. The morning sun spills through a gap in the curtains, and the light scatters over her tired face as she moves towards the window.

"Lydia?"

His voice makes her pause.

"Thanks."

She walks back to him and presses her forehead against his, wanting to say the same thing but knowing he'll never understand what it's like to have someone sleep next to you without wanting to sleep with you. He won't understand her gratitude in having him trust her so implicitly that he let his consciousness leave him, because he knew she'd still be holding his hand when the night was over.

His eyes have fluttered closed and when he opens them again she's climbing out the window. He almost smiles at the cruelty of the situation. A year ago he would have killed to have Lydia Martin sneaking out his bedroom window in the early hours of the morning. Now the thought of killing makes his throat dry. He invents a hypothetical ultimatum in his head: would he give her up and erase her from his life if it meant never having to feel this darkness again?

He thinks he might, and it scares him. Who is Stiles Stilinski without his unrequited love? Without a home for her inside his soul? If he tried to cut her out, would she leave a scar?

He tries to shake the notion from his head and pulls on a clean shirt and yesterday's jeans. He heads downstairs and into the kitchen, and there she is again, sitting at the table as the Sheriff shakes Lucky Charms into a cereal bowl in front of her. They both look up as he walks in.

"It's the closest thing we have to oatmeal," his father says, gesturing to the Lucky Charms, as if that explains everything.

"Good morning," Lydia says deliberately, her expression screaming at him to just be cool. "I didn't know you'd be getting up so late when I agreed to give you a ride to school this morning."

"Sorry," he says as he slides into the chair next to her. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"Not really, I only got here a few minutes ago. Your dad invited me in when he saw me waiting in my car."

"Give it up, guys," the Sheriff rolls his eyes. "We all know that car has been parked out there since last night. Relax, and eat your breakfast."

Stiles silently shovels eggs onto his plate as Lydia takes a sheepish bite of her cereal. Sheriff Stilinski chuckles quietly and drains the rest of his coffee, dumping his dishes in the sink and throwing on his jacket before kissing Stiles on the top of his head.

"Have a good day at school. Learn something," he says before he walks out the front door.

They exchange bewildered glances before deteriorating into hysterical laughter that seems to last for hours. The delirious happiness sticks to him all day.

She stays every night that week.

Cora rolls back into town with Derek sooner than everybody expected.

She kisses Stiles in the hallway at school in front of everyone and Lydia feels the ground shift under her feet. When Allison asks her if she's alright she nods her head and asks why wouldn't she be?

"Lydia," Allison says sympathetically.

"Just don't," she snaps, stalking off to AP Physics and trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in her stomach with numbers and logic.

Aiden offers her a ride home and she accepts, almost guilty that she's been avoiding him for the past few days. They walk around the corner beside the locker room and run straight into Stiles and Cora, holding hands and giggling. She wants to throw up.

"You," Cora snarls, transforming from giddy teenager to furious wolfgirl in a split second.

"Me," Aiden replies with a smirk.

Cora lunges at him, but Stiles still has a hold of her hand and he pulls her back.

"Cora, don't. Not here," he says, and the gentleness of his voice makes Lydia clench her fists.

"What are you still doing here?" Cora demands. "Why didn't you fuck off with your little Alpha boss?"

"I happen to like it here," Aiden replies with a smug smile.

"I don't care. You're not welcome."

"I think you'll find I am."

"Not if I have anything to do with it. I'm going to see you run out of this town with your tail between your legs if it's the last thing I do."

"This is certainly unexpected. If you hate me so much, then why did you help save my life?"

Cora's eyes move to Lydia. "Because I could. Maybe I just didn't want to see anyone else die."

Lydia can't hold her gaze and so she looks down at her shoes instead.

"I can't believe you're even talking to this piece of shit," Cora snaps at her.

"Hey," she looks back up angrily. "My love life is none of your business. Do you not recall me telling you my last boyfriend was a homicidal lizard? I can handle myself."

"Jackson didn't know he was killing all those people," Stiles cuts in, nodding at Aiden. "He was complicit in everything the Alpha Pack did. He kidnapped our friends. He watched Erica die. He tore apart the girl who saved Isaac and almost killed Cora. He murdered Boyd, Lydia! Are you seriously okay with any of that? You shouldn't be with him. Not now."

"Why do you care?" she says, scowling.

"How can you ask me that?" his face softens and when Cora sees it, she looks hurt. Lydia's face flushes with shame and she grabs Aiden by the arm.

"Come on, let's go," she pushes past the happy couple and drags him into the locker room. His shirt is off and her lips are on his chest in a matter of seconds.

He picks her up by the waist and pushes her up against a locker, kissing her mouth ferociously. She can feel his smile against her frown and she pushes him off, gasping.

"Are you sorry?" she says.

"What?" he looks at her quizzically and goes to kiss her again, but she stops him with her hand.

"Are you sorry for any of it? What you did when you were with them?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, snaking his hand up her dress and tugging at her underwear.

"Stop it," she pushes him away. "You don't sound sorry."

"What do you want me to say, Lydia?" he says. "That I wish I could take it all back? That I'm sorry I ever met Deucalion and I was happier being the runt of the pack with my brother? It's not true."

"Would you do it again? If you had to?"

"Are you asking me if I regret anything?" he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I don't. I am a wild animal, Lydia, and I always will be. Just let the past be the past."

"But what about the future?" she slings her handbag over her shoulder and backs towards the door. "Tell me you'll never kill again."

"I can't promise you that."

"I thought so," she sighs, and the glass pane in the door rattles as she slams it shut behind her.

Stiles is sitting on the front steps of the school as she opens the doors to leave.

"Where's Cora?" she can barely hide the resentment in her voice and she swallows the lump in her throat.

"She went back to Derek's. She said she had bigger things to deal with than shitty teen drama," he stands up and faces her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says, wrapping her arms around herself defensively. "Just dealing with my own shitty teen drama."

"I'm sorry," he says, and he means it. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Yes, actually," she smiles at him gratefully. He plays Taylor Swift for the whole drive and sings along to every word.

Sitting in the passenger's seat gives her an opportunity to look at him, really look at him, without him noticing. She can't believe she's never realised how beautiful he is before. And she knows he loves her. He's never said it, it never needed saying. But it hangs in the air between them and it's suffocating her. She thinks maybe she's done something terrible in letting him fall for her. Like she's shovelled her own grave.

She substitutes a scream for a sigh and looks out the window. But he hears the scream that was silenced with a sigh, so he reaches out and takes her hand, and she feels her heart take root in her body. She trembles under his touch and she's trying not to tell him that she loves him, but she loves him. She chokes it down and pulls away, because there are no words for what she's thinking, no name for the feeling that consumes her.

But he knows she needs this, so he laces his fingers with hers again. This time she doesn't let go.

When his Jeep pulls up in front of her house and she asks if he wants to come inside, he doesn't hesitate in saying yes.

She sits down on her bed and he sits in her desk chair. There's a beat of silence before she asks "why is it so hard to see which people want to pull you apart and which ones want to put you back together?"

"It depends," he says. "Do you need tearing apart or stitching up?"

She bites her lip and lies back on her pillows. "What does that mean?"

He gets up and lies down next to her. "I don't know. It doesn't mean anything. Sometimes things just happen without meaning and there's nothing we can do about it."

She rolls over to look at him to find that he's done the same. "I hate feeling helpless like this," she says.

He's so close, yet there's still a space between them. He wonders how they can be so far apart while she's right in front of him.

"Are you scared?" he asks.

"Not right now. I'm with you."

"What difference does that make?"

"I've always felt safe with you."

The truth has been said out loud and there's no going back now. She wonders if she's ruined it, he doesn't say anything, he just stares at her with his big brown eyes that aren't quite as bright as they used to be.

"It's not fair for you to do this to me," he says. "Not now, when you know how long I wanted you."

"I know," she says.

"Do you know? Do you really? I've been fighting for you for as long as I can remember, Lydia. And every time you looked at me I thought it meant that you noticed that I existed. But for so long I was just nothing to you. Even after Peter Hale dragged you into this freakshow, I was still just a novelty. Someone you could use up and throw away. But still I kept fighting because I honestly believed that one day you would be able to see me as someone who cared about you and deserved to be in your life."

"Deserved? You had a horny teenage crush and now all of a sudden you deserve me? How can you say that I'm not being fair? I don't owe you anything, Stiles. You can't expect me to drop everything in my life that I've worked so hard to build just because of your feelings for me. You had this idea of me that was totally separate from who I actually was, and complete different from who I am now. Was I your dream girl or a mystery that needs to be solved? Am I your friend or just another piece of the Beacon Hills puzzle that you can't seem to crack? I can't be all these things for you, Stiles. I'm a human being!"

She stops and considers what she just said.

"Or at least I thought I was."

"You're something, alright," he says. "And you're also right. What I wanted from you wasn't realistic, and I can't blame that on you. I guess I wasn't as over your rejection as much as I thought."

"I never wanted to hurt you," she reaches up and softly puts her hand on the side of his face. "I just didn't know what I was missing out on."

He breathes in sharply and they're staring at each other, not moving, neither wanting to break the tension. The room falls away and they're both floating on nothingness. They would float away if it wasn't for the weight of their hearts, beating faster than they have ever felt, threatening to overload and collapse in on itself any second now.

Don't move. Don't look away. Look at me. Never stop seeing me.

Stiles' phone rings and he groans as he has to look away to dig it out of his pocket. "It's Scott."

"Do you have to answer it?" she asks, already knowing the answer. "What if it's bad news? It's always bad news."

He bites his lip as he brings the phone to his ear. "Hey buddy."

She holds her breath as she waits for the worst.

"You have to read the last chapter and then summarise the themes for class tomorrow. Ironic, I know. Yeah. Nope. Yeah, listen Scott, I… no, Apocalypse Now isn't the exactly same thing. You can't just watch it and expect to pass. Well then, Isaac obviously isn't going to pass. Okay? Okay. See you tomorrow. Bye."

He puts the phone back in his pocket and looks at her. "He wanted to know if we had to finish reading Heart of Darkness for English class tomorrow."

She smiles. "Ironic."

"That's what I said."

"What's it like?" she gently moves her fingers to his chest, feeling his heart pump despite the dark cloud around it.

"It's hard to explain," he says. "Sometimes I feel fine, tranquil, like I'm standing on the edge and only looking down. But then I realise I'm already falling and need to grab hold of something. I can barely pull myself back up, and then it happens all over again. It's exhausting, you know? I'm so tired."

"Me too," she lets her eyes close, feeling the sleepless nights suddenly catch up with her.

"You're beautiful," he says.

"You too," she says.

They fall asleep curled into each other bodies, and their blood runs close to the surface of their skin, trying to slip through and blend together and make two parts into a whole.

When he wakes up he realises that he didn't dream, the darkness has stayed below the surface for the first time since they found the Nemeton. He's so excited that he kisses her while she's still half-asleep, then he realises his curfew is in twelve minutes and he sprints out the door with a hasty goodbye. She touches her mouth as they tingle with the residue of his lips and she starts to cry.

She doesn't go to school the next day. Instead she drives to the lookout where you can see the whole town of Beacon Hills spread out like a Monopoly board. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The currents are buzzing under her feet and the air is thick with despair. Beacon Hills was living up to its name. Something was here, something dangerous. Something deadly.

She remembers what she told Scott on the night of the recital. She thinks of the grateful way he grabbed her hand, and how hopeful it made her. He believes in her, and it made her want to believe in herself. She pulls out her phone and calls him.

"Lydia, hey," he sounds panicked. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Calm down, Scott, I'm fine," she says.

"Why aren't you at school?" he asks.

"I'm too tired."

"Is it because of…" he lowers his voice. "Stiles? And, you know… the kiss?"

She exclaims "what?" at the same time as Allison does on the other end of the line, and Scott shushes her.

"How do you even know about that?"

"He told me. He's my best friend," she imagines the sincerely deadpan look on his face as he explains, and she allows herself to smile.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Allison says distantly, and her smile disappears.

"I don't know," Scott replies, before turning his attention back to Lydia. "Do you wanna talk to Allison?"

"Sure," Lydia prepares for the guilt to punch her in the gut.

"Lydia?" the voice of her best friend is clearer now that she's closer to the mouthpiece. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she says, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm scared."

"Don't be scared," Allison says knowingly. "It'll be okay."

"I'm not ready for this. I've never felt like this before. When I'm with him it feels like I'm finally learning to how to breathe. How can I not be scared of that? What if it breaks me? What if it breaks him?"

"I don't know, Lydia. Nobody ever knows what that feeling will do to them. Maybe it works out and maybe it doesn't. You can't be so scared of getting your heart broken that you break it on your own."

"I love you," she says, dizzy with affection for her friend.

"I love you, too," Allison says, and hands the phone back to Scott.

"Why did you call me, anyway?" he says, getting back to the the original source of her fear. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm at the lookout," she says. "I feel really strange. I don't think things will be alright for much longer."

Scott is silent, and when he finally speaks his voice is tense. "What do you mean?"

"Something's coming," she says. "Something bad."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No. But I know we're running out of time."

"Aren't we always?" he sounds resigned and she feels bad for burdening him any more than he already is.

"We'll be ready this time," she tries to reassure him.

"We can try. Thanks Lydia. I knew I could count on you."

She clutches her phone to her chest after he hangs up and a strangled sob escapes from her throat. She doesn't know if she deserves such good friends. But their lives were permanently tangled now, and maybe her life is choking her, but at least she's tangled with better souls than her own. They were knotted together and they weren't coming undone. Maybe she'll survive this.

She gets back in her car and drives to Stiles' house. His father is working tonight. She's gotten used to the Stilinski schedule lately. It's a small comfort, a constant in a sea of chaos. She pulls the key out from underneath the flowerpot by the front door and lets herself in, going straight to Stiles' room. She looks around and lets herself absorb everything, how it was all so Stiles. His home, his haven. It felt like that to her now, too. He was her home. She had never realised what it felt like to belong until she was with him, holding his hand in the night, sharing the darkness, both pretending to be strong while they were falling apart. She lies down on the bed where she has slept without fear for herself, only fear for the boy sleeping next to her who squeezes her hand so tightly that it hurts, who has dreams that terrify him so much that he wakes up screaming.

Except for when he sleeps next to her. When she's close to him the monsters in his mind don't rear their ugly heads. She wonders how long it will last.

Stiles has been calling her all afternoon but she doesn't answer. Scott tells him about her premonition and he feels sick to his stomach. He drives to her house after school but her mother says she hasn't seen her since this morning. He drives up to the lookout but she left hours ago. Allison hasn't heard from her. Aiden just growled when he asked him. He almost cries with relief when he runs out of options and goes back home only to see her car parked out front.

He yells her name as he barges in the front door, but the house is silent. He runs up the stairs two at a time and when he gets to his room he trips over the carpet and falls to the floor. He sees her as he scrambles to his feet, asleep on top of his rumpled comforter. He gets back down on his knees and crawls towards her.

"Lydia," he whispers, pushing her hair off of her face. "Wake up."

She doesn't move.

He puts his fingers to her neck to feel a pulse, puts his ear to her mouth and to hear her breathing. Her heart is beating and her breath is sweet. He shakes her lightly and says her name again.

Her eyes blink open, slowly, wearily.

"Hey," he lets out the breath his didn't know he had been holding.

She doesn't say anything. She just stares at him with tired eyes.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says. "You scared me for a second there."

She tilts her chin forward and kisses him. And it's the same as the first time, and the second time. But this time she knows she's in love and that's why her stomach is doing backflips and she's stuck in space and time and the only thing she can think about is how happy she would be kissing him for the rest of her life.

Then she smells the death on him.

She gasps and pulls away, backing away from him.

He's still dazed from the suddenness of it all and reacts to her fear slowly. "What? What is it?"

"You," she sits up and puts her hands over her mouth, sorry that she had dared to even touch him. "I feel it. Whatever's coming, it's coming for you."

"Me?" he rocks back on his haunches. "Why me?"

"I don't know," she says. "But I can sense it. Don't ask me how, but I just know. You've got mortality written all over you. But there's also an hourglass and it's running out of sand. You're running out of time."

"Aren't we always?" he echoes the same thing Scott said earlier that day.

He climbs up on the bed next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. She runs her hand along his back and lets it rest at his waist, hugging him to her side.

"Maybe it's not what you think," he says. "You're still figuring out all this banshee stuff. Maybe I'll be fine."

"Maybe you won't."

"Who am I kidding? I'm 115 pounds of pure sarcasm and I'm scared of blood. My soul has a huge black scar that will never heal. I'm lucky I've survived this long."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she says fiercely.

He kisses her on the temple. "You think I'm going to go down without a fight? No way. I didn't put up with all this bullshit from Kanimas and Alphas and Darachs just to be offed by some mysterious threat, especially not now I…"

She turns to look at him. "Now you what?"

"Not now I have a chance to see where this goes."

"I'm probably going to see death every time I'm with you," she bites her lip. "Can you handle that?"

"Can you?" he says. "Lydia, I live and breathe death every day. It haunts a space inside of me. It makes me feel fragile and invincible all at once, like nothing could ever hurt me as much as I hurt myself. It sucks away at every fibre of my being until I'm convinced that I'm not worthy of the things I want. That I don't deserve to be loved. And then I look at you and I just… I can feel your light. It pushes the darkness back into its cage and I feel like I can finally surface for air. I don't feel my skin hanging off my bones, waiting for me to die so it can rot in the ground. I don't feel like I'm drowning. You're my lifeboat, Lydia. You couldn't sink me if you tried."

She isn't sure when the tears started to fall but she knows they can't stop now. He kisses the stains on her cheeks and draws her closer, tugging her onto his lap so that her back presses against his chest. She leans into his touch, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers. She's always been a cold girl. Maybe this is what ice feels like as it melts.

"I'm in if you are," she whispers.

He pulls her closer, burying his face in her neck. His arms rests across her stomach and she looks down at the veins that cross them, the blue rivers of blood that run just under his skin. The skin that holds all of him together, the skin that hides so much of what is underneath. His lips press against the space underneath her ear and she shivers. Then he whispers I love you and her dress and his pants are on the floor and they're fucking desperately, as if all their demons will catch up with them if they dare slow down. He comes first, she feels it pool inside of her, and she bites down on his bottom lip so hard that it draws blood. The metallic taste jolts him back to harsher realities, he sees the red on her mouth and he scrambles off her, pushing down the nauseous feeling in his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Stiles, oh my god, I'm so sorry," she reaches for him but he keeps backing away, self-conscious of both his naked body and his naked fear.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't… the blood…" his voice is shaking and he sits at the foot of his bed with his back to her, pulling on his bower shorts.

"I know, I know, it was an accident, I didn't mean… I'm sorry," she draws the sheets to her chest and buries her face in her hands.

They sit in silence for what seems like hours. They're both so, so sorry for something that is nobody's fault. Swallowing her pride, Lydia wraps a sheet tighter around herself and moves to sit next to him. The shards of their hearts glitter like broken glass, so she treads lightly. Slowly she reaches out and takes his hand. He flinches, but disguises it well. She lets go to take his face in both her hands and forces him to look at her.

"You're beautiful," she says.

"You too," he says, but his eyes still don't have the brightness that they used to and she wonders if she'll always miss it. Maybe she'll always resent him for giving it up without a second thought, so that she had to love a boy with thunderclouds where his sunshine used to be.

I built a cathedral in my heart for you, but since you died and came back you've turned into an echo of a prayer, she thinks but doesn't say.

"I love you," she says instead.

"I love you," he says. "But it's the kind of love that could ruin us."

"I know."

"It will probably be taken away from us eventually. It'll happen once we get used to it."

"And we can say that we always knew it would happen."

"It'll be bad for you, Lydia," he says. "You're too good for me."

"How can you be bad for me, Stiles? You're the good one. You are the best person I've ever known," she says.

"I'm not just good," he says. "I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. I am sad and angry and I don't want to die."

"But you love me," she says.

"I love you," he says. "Until we get used to it."

"Then tell me you'll never get used to it," she leans forward so that their foreheads rest against each other.

"I can't promise you that."

"Try."

"I am trying. You have no idea how hard I'm trying"

"That's all I can ask from you," she takes his face in her hand and places a soft kiss on his lips. "As long as you're trying, it's all you can do. And it will have to be enough."

"Is it enough, though?" he grabs her hands and closes his eyes, "Can it be enough for you?"

"It is for now," she says.

"For now," he repeats.

"Tell me you love me again," she says.

"I love you."

"For now?"

"For now."

A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river
but then he's still left
with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away
but then he's still left with his hands.

- Boot Theory, Richard Siken

A/N: If you haven't read Crush by Richard Siken, you should read Crush by Richard Siken.