3:46 a.m.

Lydia Martin stands in the operating room of Deaton's clinic while Derek Hale clings tightly to her hand. After having spent hours crammed into the backseat of the Jeep, traveling from Mexico to Beacon Hills, she is exhausted, cranky, and aching all over. The physical assault on her body is magnified by a barrage of emotion which she is not particularly used to experiencing, and it is all because of Stiles and Malia. Lydia has tolerated enough for one night. Between the inappropriately frequent contact between them and declarations about how one wouldn't leave the other behind, she was close to becoming violently ill several times over the past few hours. Without Kira beside her for moral support, Lydia is sure she would have preferred to get out of the Jeep and walk home.

To make matters worse, a cloud of guilt hangs over her. Derek is lying in front of her. Derek, who has been regressed into a younger version of himself and who now looks like a harmless teenage boy. She realizes her focus should be on him, but she can't stop replaying the previous night in her mind.

The trouble preceded the drive home, when the Jeep broke down in the middle of the desert. Lydia was offended by Stiles's attitude towards her. She had the distinct impression that although she was trying to be helpful, he was annoyed with her. First, he was hostile with her for not holding the flashlight still enough for his liking. Then, when she tried to explain that her hand was shaking – out of fear, he was completely unsympathetic. She tried to shrug off the hurt she felt, chalking it up to tiredness and frustration, but it wasn't as easy as she had assumed. What really bothered her though, the thing she couldn't let go of, was the fact that Stiles actually considered leaving her alone, in pitch darkness, so he could go chase after Malia.

Though Lydia isn't someone who is easily insulted, each of his jabs cut into her like razors, and hours later…the hurt is lingering. It is obvious that ever since he and Malia started spending time together, the dynamic of her own relationship with Stiles has been altered – and not for the better. To some extent, she guesses, a few of these changes were to be expected. She figured that he might have less time for her and that what little time they did have, would not be spent alone. She also predicted that there would be a growing distance between them, physically. Unfortunately, she was correct on all fronts.

In recent weeks, she hasn't spent any time with Stiles outside of school. She notices he doesn't stand as close to her as he used to, doesn't reach to take her hand, and doesn't hug her anymore. Clearly, they've gone out of step with each other, often to the point of awkwardness, and Lydia is pretty sure the clumsiness between them has a name – Malia Tate.

Trying to adjust has been more difficult than Lydia imagined. A moment or two of physical contact with Stiles always made her feel safe, at ease, important. Without those moments, she feels a bit more lonely, anxious, and invisible with each day that passes. Without those touches, Lydia feels as though her body temperature is running a little lower than normal, and no matter what she does, she can't get warm again.

But all of those unpleasant changes – none of them are a surprise. She hates them, but she realizes they were bound to happen. What Lydia never anticipated is that Stiles would become increasingly cold towards her. At times she observes a complacency in him that she has not seen before. He doesn't seem like the boy she knew – the one who used to have a massive crush on her, the one who became one of her best friends, the one to whom she wants to give her heart. Her Stiles would have never told her to "just be slightly less terrified" and meant it. A few months ago, if he had said those words, she would have brushed it off and stepped right into their normal banter. His tone, an expression, or a simple touch would have communicated to her that he was not serious. Something about the way he spoke to her last night, told Lydia that Stiles was not joking. A few months ago, he would have never even considered leaving her behind – alone, in the dark, completely unprotected. A few months ago, he would have never been so indifferent to her – not after everything they had been through. Lydia is less than impressed with his new demeanor, and she certainly isn't used to him hurting her so carelessly.

More than anything, she is upset with herself for permitting Stiles to weave himself so firmly into her life that she doesn't know, much less want to know, how to be without him…especially when she promised herself that she would never let that happen.

All along, her mind kept advising her to take a step back, to be careful not to get too attached to him. But her heart had other intentions. It begged her to seek his presence when she woke up in the middle of the night terrified, or when she couldn't figure out what her latest premonition meant, or when she simply needed a friend to listen without judgement. It pleaded with her to be there for him as well, to ease his pain if she could, to see him be happy as often as possible. Her heart, it appeared, was determined to remind her that Stiles was who she needed – long before she realized she was in love with him.

In the early morning hours, the clinic is cloaked in a blanket of silence, save the ticking of the wall clock and the pace of Derek's shallow, steady breaths. The quiet allows Lydia to ponder her jealousy. There is no other word she can think of to describe it. She had come to expect a certain kind of attention from Stiles. Watching him share this attention with Malia is making her incredibly jealous. As selfish and childish as her reaction might seem, she can't help the way she feels, and she can't ignore it either. She is positive that she has never experienced any such envy when she saw Jackson or Aiden with other girls. Sure, it stung a bit, but it pales in comparison to the way she feels right now.

She chides herself for letting emotion get the better of her, but the truth of the matter is, she has never loved anyone the way she loves Stiles. It is the kind of love she and Allison had talked about. The kind where you cannot breathe until you are with him. Falling in love with Stiles was a slow burn, a gradual awakening of her soul, pure and all consuming. Somehow, in the process of becoming real friends, this boy took hold of her heart, piece by piece, until he fully claimed it. It was in doing so, that he had acquired the power to hurt her more than anyone ever could…and now, much to Lydia's dismay, he doesn't seem to want her heart any longer.

Regardless, Lydia finds it impossible to be angry with Stiles. The only person she is angry with is herself. After all, she never told him that she is in love with him. The few times she had almost gathered the nerve to do so, she managed to find an excuse not to go through with it. In truth, she has done everything humanly possible to keep her love a secret. She has let fear dictate her actions – fear of rejection, fear that she will disappoint him, fear of losing him the way she has lost so many others. Fear has held her captive and kept her silent for months. And now, fear is not only thwarting the possibility of a loving relationship with Stiles, it is also taking a toll on the friendship they have already established – a friendship that was built from the ground up, that surrounds her with love and understanding, and gives her a strength she never knew she could possess. Aside from her friendship with Allison, her bond with Stiles is the dearest she has ever known, and it is slipping through her fingers.

What did I expect him to do…read my mind? she wonders.

Actually, for quite some time, Lydia was convinced that he could. Stiles could interpret an expression of hers, identify a tone in her voice, observe a tell in her body language…and by some means, he was able to anticipate her next move or inclination. He has a way of looking at her that makes her feel as transparent as glass. With anyone else, that kind of exposure would make her feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but with Stiles, it makes her feel real and alive. She craves that feeling, now more than ever. Having someone who could see her true self and still care about her – not despite who she is, but because of who she is – that is a miraculous gift.

She has waited for Stiles, hoping he will see past the façade she so carefully established, recognize that she is head over heels in love, and be brave enough to make the first move. But he never has, and she has to ask herself why that is the case.

His new relationship makes Lydia sorely aware of the possibility that she overestimated the bond they shared.

Maybe I misunderstood the entire situation. What if it was all in my head?

She begins to wonder if she may have projected her feelings onto him. Maybe to Stiles, she is a childhood crush, turned teenage infatuation. Now that he has gotten to know her, he sees that she doesn't live up to the fantasy. Lydia seriously considers that she might have taken for granted that Stiles would always want to be there for her, making her feel safe and tethering her to the earth.

What if he's tired of waiting for me, and now he's ready to move on?

The concept causes near crushing pain in her chest and siphons the heat from her body.

Lydia returns her attention to Derek, checking his pulse and gently smoothing his hair in place. He seems so innocent and defenseless as he sleeps – nothing like the stern and sullen werewolf that Scott and the pack have come to depend on. She recalls the many horrors he has lived through, the burdens he carries, and how they may have shaped him into the adult that he is today. In an odd way, teenage Derek reminds her of Stiles.

She thinks about how Stiles might change. He has already endured far more than the average person could be expected to handle, especially in the past few months.

Will there be a time when I won't recognize him anymore? Is it fair to assume that Malia is the cause? What if it's all my fault and has nothing to do with her? Maybe I've hurt Stiles so often and so much that he decided to put distance between us?

Closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, Lydia tries to erase the stream of questions from her mind. There is no way to get answers now, and she worries that if she does, she might not like them.

Though a vast amount of uncertainty is weighing on her, Lydia knows one thing for sure: she loves Stiles with all of her heart. His happiness is most important to her – not just because of the tragedies he has suffered, but also because of the genuinely amazing person he is. Countless times he has put his own needs aside for the people he cares about. She has witnessed, first-hand, how selflessly and unwaveringly he supported Scott while he transitioned from best friend, to newly-turned werewolf, to worthy Alpha and leader of their pack. She watched Stiles cheer from the sidelines as Scott became captain of the Lacrosse team, reveled in the magic of his first love, and overcame adversaries. She notices all of the ways he tries to take care of his dad, whether it be trying to persuade him to eat healthier, making sure the laundry is done, or always leaving a light on in the living room so he never has to walk into a dark house. She stood in awe as he willfully separated from the Nogitsune that threatened to twist him into something evil and inhuman. She has been touched by the way he encourages her to be herself and the way he shows her that she is more than her appearance. She loves the way he tries to make her laugh. She admires how he truly listens to her and takes note of things that are important to her. He has already done more for her in a few years' time than any other has done in her entire life.

Lydia knows she can't stop loving Stiles, even if she wanted to. So, if his happiness comes from being with someone else, then she is willing to keep her distance. She will try to be supportive, even if it means learning to live with a broken heart. In her mind, she owes it to him. She owes him everything, and Stiles owes her nothing.

When her need for rest becomes undeniable, Lydia lets go of Derek's hand, settles into a chair beside him, and drifts to sleep. She still has a great deal to think about, but it will have to wait until daybreak.