Enjoy the gif of our two favorite Connelly's.

SONGS OF THE CHAPTER: GALE SONG BY THE LUMINEERS

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SIXTY TWO;

TWO LOVERS

SEVEN YEARS AGO

       Luke Connelly was not a stranger to pain. Not physical, nor emotional amounts of it. He could often go days without realizing that he was limping; he could push through the heaviest of migraines without aching to grab medicine for a little relief, and if he got lucky, he could avoid acknowledging a lacrosse injury until his leg was (quite literally) hanging on by a couple of tendons. Coach didn't support that one on game days as much as he did the others. Hell, he was even sure that if he got shot, he could handle that if his organs remained undamaged. He took pride in it, too. Thrived in it. To him, that meant he was beating what the universe tried to tear him down with. It may have also given him a pretty great reputation in school, but he would let that one stay under the radar.

       Luke Connelly was, however, a stranger to heartache, and he had never understood why it was called 'ache' until he experienced it for the first time. It was an entirely different sensation of hurt. It didn't start in his nerves. It didn't slowly puncture its way through every cell and muscle, spreading to the most vulnerable parts in the bloodstream. It didn't trigger a stimulation to the pain where he screamed in alert at the intrusion, much like what he was used to. Much like he could handle. It was a silent killer. Someone could go months without realizing that they were driving themselves to the edge of an end that wasn't happy. Years and years spent building layers to an unexpected collision. Most people weren't given a warning, and those were the people who took the longest to stitch up the scars they got from the blow to the chest.

        Contrary to what Luke originally assumed, there was also a definitive difference between heartache and heartbreak. Heartache, no matter how painful, was temporary. A feeling that submerged in between the words of doubt and throats of people who had screamed too much at one another for it to be even remotely healthy. It was a pause, a halt in the story. But it was not the end of it. Heartbreak was the finalized statement that something was over—a glorious life, a consuming love: gone. Because the pause became too long. The fights became too often. The love became an occupation. There was no chance of repairing heartbreak. Something special was snapped in half in between the pleads to stop and the wishes for it to get better. It was vicious and unkind and unforgiving, and it left two lovers tired of love. It had people wondering why the world was not dead from loneliness yet.

        And while Luke Connelly never experienced why Break was in such a twisted relationship with Heart, he was great acquaintances with the affair Heart had with Ache. "Carrie, please."

        He didn't think he could have pleaded more if he tried as he stared at the blonde girl in front of him. His bright, green eyes were without caution as he grabbed a hold of his girlfriend's hand to convince her of the seemingly impossible. There was already something off about him that night, and it wasn't hard for Carrie Hudson to see that the boy was on the verge of a breakdown by the simple signs of his lacking physicality. His hands had returned to tremors, a growing trait that was picked up at the beginning of the year. His eyes were red, as well. Swollen and irritated as if he spent the evening downing the alcohol that his father kept in a high cabinet. The assumption was only proven correct when the smell of alcohol drifted after his words, intoxicating enough for her to step away. She just didn't know that it wasn't simply one bottle, but the entire shelf in his stomach.

        The closer that Luke got to seventeen, the closer he got to eighteen. There was something that she could see terrified him about growing up, a fear that rested between the thousands of other things that he worried about on a daily basis. Maybe it was because, when he turned eighteen, his mother would want him to leave. She'd only been hinting at colleges outside of California with a good mechanics program for the last year. It may have been because there was a small part inside of Luke that wanted to leave just as much as she wanted him to. He contained the thought because, no matter how much it might help him—and no matter how much Carrie would love to go with him—he was too tied to Beacon Hills. They'd both threaded their identities into every person around them and carved their lives into the walls of every building. Escape was merely a dream.

        She understood him, or at the very least did her damn hardest to on most days, but Luke Connelly was horrendous at showing his emotions and even worse at telling them. That was why she was shocked when he opened his mouth and began to speak about what he was thinking. He began to tell her things—asked her things—that she tried to grab a hold of but found herself slipping away from. That was the first time Carrie didn't understand the boy she loved as he stood in front of her, telling her that he wanted to run away.

        She knew there were tears in her eyes as she looked at him, crossed and tangled in questions of what led to him wanting to leave so abruptly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

        "Leave with me, Care." He was rushing past his sentences. His perspective was worn to the ground, and the only thing that he could see at that point through his perforated vision was the girl in front of him. She was it. She was enough if he just closed a wall around the rest of the life around him. It was enough for her to allow the first of the tears to fall, and it was enough for Luke to feel his chest tighten as he realized what she was going to say.

        "Carrie, we don't need to do this. Go to school. Act like we're normal. Pretend that we aren't sitting in Coach's class, terrified of something happening to us every time someone coughs. We don't need it. Any of it. We can go right now. You and me. I can't... I can't be here anymore... Some higher purpose has to hate me because they put a fucking curse on my family. You know that—and if I can't get away from it, then I can at least get away from a beacon for it... and... Sage is ten. She's ten, Carrie, and what? She's supposed to grow up in this world? Supposed to deal with being royally fucked by the world twenty-four-seven? She can't handle it. We can't. How is it fair? That our classmates get to worry about their SAT scores being high enough, and we have to worry about one of our friends being killed? No. No. Leave with me, baby. Please. We can go to New York, or Chicago, or goddamn Kentucky if you really want to. Just come with me."

        She would have said yes. If they were two years older, she would have taken his hand and walked out with him that second. If they were two years older, she would have said yes to do anything with him. Would have run away with him to go to a remote island off the coast of the world, would have married him in Vegas because there was nothing else that she could possibly need but him, but they weren't two years older. They were sixteen. And even though Carrie Hudson had to deal with turning into a creature of the night every time she got angry, running away with her boyfriend was an extreme that she was afraid to jump into. He may be ready, but she wasn't. She had a family. A pack. And that was her responsibility before anything else. Even him.

        Luke didn't know who it hurt more when she said the word "no." The crack started out small, almost like a splinter of wood in a forest of trees, and then it all went to hell as the splinter finally hit the bottom to the root of his being and attacked anything in his vicinity. What made it worse was not knowing if it was her heart breaking, and it was so physically painful that he was feeling it, too, or if it was just him. He hoped it wasn't. Because that would mean that it was all his own suffering that rotted his spine and carved him to unidentifiable pieces. He didn't know who it hurt more when his face hardened, the coldest he had ever been around his girlfriend. His own eyes were watering by then, and the idea of showing masculinity by pretending they didn't exist was shot to hell because he didn't care what he showed her anymore. He could walk past a bullet, but he could not walk past her.

      She saw with her own eyes the day the Connelly boy hurt because of heartbreak. Not because she wouldn't leave with him, but because she had known why he needed to get away and that was not enough to get her to even consider longer than a minute. She knew how he felt—knew about the tremors and the hallucinations that had begun traumatizing him. She knew that he was slowly beginning to struggle with holding his lacrosse stick during games, that he was terrified of touching his little sister because he didn't want to take the slim chance that what he could do would poison her immunity. She knew that his mental state was slowly deteriorating. But, above all of that, it hurt more that the love she felt for him was not enough when it had always been so much for him. As the sixteen-year-old stood in front of his girlfriend, feeling his throat close up from the tears and alcohol, he realized how much love absolutely, completely, undeniably, fucking sucked.

      It was a while before he replied, pressing his lips tightly as he gave Carrie one nod. He didn't know what else there was left to give away to her. With a deep inhale of air that echoed in the cool air of the dark night, he gave in to the heartbreak. "Okay. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

       A rush of guilt hit Carrie when she saw the tears in his eyes. "Luke-"

     "Please, don't," Luke interrupted quickly, shaking his head as he stepped back from her. He wasn't angry. He wasn't sure he had the ability to be angry at the small blonde in front of him, but that didn't mean he didn't have the ability to be hurt by her. If anything, she was the only person who could hurt him so horribly. With his eyes brighter than ever from the salt water that tampered the green, he stuck his hands up in surrender and pleaded for his heart's sake that she stay away. "I can't let you become one of the people I'm running away from."

       Those were the last words Carrie Hudson ever heard from Luke Connelly.

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SEVEN YEARS LATER

       Scott kept his eyes on the blonde in front of him, his forehead creased in concern. Her head was embedded on the same wall it had been ten minutes prior when he checked on her, thirty minutes after they finally got an answer they had been craving to hear for weeks. Stiles was back, completely and fully himself with his own kanji symbol to prove it. Noshiko showed up by Kira's request an hour ago, the Oni no further back than a few inches and staring at a sickly Stiles with a determination to find the Nogitsune that would rival all others. Only when he received tense stares all around the room from Melissa, Kira, and Scott did Stiles realize that it had to happen. He had to know, just as much as the others around him. Even more, quite possibly most, for the blonde that had been sitting on the porch from the moment she returned from unsuccessfully finding Lydia. When the darkness crept up and finally surrounded him, he had never been more relieved to feel so cold.

       Apparently, Sage was thinking—or that's what she told Scott she was doing every time he came by and asked. It was what she'd been doing since she came back into the house, finally accepting that Lydia was gone and Stiles was not. The answer might have been indeterminate for anyone who didn't know her, but he could already see the gears shifting in her head as she tried to think of a way to get the strawberry blonde back. Probably even wondering how long it would take for them to notice that she was gone if she went out and searched for Lydia once again by herself. It sounded like something she would do. Impulse had a way of controlling her into doing idiotic things by disguising it as the only option. All Scott knew was that, if she stood there any longer, she was going to have a migraine that rivaled a bullet wound.

        A heaving sigh was all he received in return when his breathing echoed in the vacant hallway, Sage's body deflating as she reacted to his constant hovering. Instead of saying anything, she pushed her head off the wall and reluctantly turned Scott's way. What she saw was a boy drained of energy-physically, emotionally, mentally. In every way possible, he was just as exhausted of fighting as they all were. Just when they thought that it was finally over, chaos caught a hold of their lives. And it fucked them every single time. Because of this, and the realization that Scott was just as stubborn as she when it came to admitting defeat, she took the three unexpected steps forward in between their bodies and wrapped her arms around him.

       Scott didn't say anything when their bodies hit hard from the force of the impact. The only sound that fell from his lips was an inhale before he responded to her hug quickly, tight enough to know that she was real and close enough to know that she was alive. Nostalgia wavered in the air, their grip on each other stronger than ever in the past. Sage's memory took her back to the last time she actually hugged him back when the madness first began, the night after they found Stiles in the Preserve just as everything plummeted to hell. She hated the idea of being at odds with him, a feeling very similar to the discomfort in her gut when she fought with Derek.

        What she hated even more was knowing that the Nogitsune intended for them to struggle with what was happening to Stiles. Break under the pressure. Prove that the bond between the three of them was not as strong if one piece was corrupted. What he forgot was one small thing: Scott and Sage were fiercely loyal to their family, and they would never consider each other anything less. After all, it was always Scott that Sage followed. As her alpha and as her friend, he was the one that she would go to the ends of the Earth with. Not even the strongest of evils could tear that away from them.

        When they reluctantly pulled away after a minute, the apology was clear without needing to be said. "I'm sorry," were just two words. It was the actions that held all of the meaning, and they did their part. Sage glanced at Scott, and for the first time since she had known him, she saw a look that she had only ever seen him give to other people. Stiles. Allison. Kira. Complete strangers. It was just a look—nothing more—but it was enough to know exactly why he was a true alpha.

       Sage's arms went across her chest the moment they released each other, her own way of shielding herself from the world. "You know I love you, right?"

         "I know." Scott smiled softly at her, but it didn't last long when his face started to fall. "He's waiting to talk to you before we go to the station to see his dad."

         He hated throwing her directly into the situation, as he had been the one there for her through all of the things that the Nogitsune had thrown their way, but he knew it had to be done. He could only protect Sage from the truth for so long. It was no longer a desire or a fear, but an inevitability that was better over sooner than later. After she began taking a step towards the bedroom door, Scott reached for her arm to speak once more before she went in. "You've been fighting to save him this whole time, Sage. Don't close yourself up again now that he's back."

        It took a little longer for her to absorb the meaning behind the second set of words than the first, but she knew what he was trying to say. Nodding once to confirm that she understood, Scott nodded as well and pressed a kiss to her head, leaving her alone upstairs. Even if her mind would try to deny it, their Stiles was back. Not the one so void of emotion that he couldn't even care about what he did, but their third piece. The very thing that they have been trying to do finally came true. It may not be over just yet, and she was going to stop at nothing to find Lydia just as vehemently as she did Stiles, but the area of pain in her heart shifted. She couldn't walk in there with a closed mind. If she was going to ever get over the trench that the Nogitsune dug between them, it would have to start by doing the one thing she had grown talented at avoiding. She had to talk. Not fight—another talent of hers that was heightened around Stiles, but talk to him in a way that she hadn't done in a while.

       So, with her bravery somewhere between a left rib and her trachea, she discarded the mask and pulled out every fear that had been locked away inside of her. When she walked through the door, she expected to see him laying down on his back. At the very least, resting from the unnerving experience with the Oni before he had to go back into the real world and see the damage done to it. He wasn't. Instead, he was sitting up. His head was down as he played with his hands in a way that was oddly familiar to Sage. Too familiar and almost enough for her to turn right back around. Rather than being a coward, she went further into the room and tried to ignore the memory in the back of her mind that showed Agent McCall bleeding out on the same bed that Stiles was in. She hadn't noticed that she was rubbing her hands on her thighs, trying to get blood off of her hands that wasn't there anymore.

         Stiles looked up when the creaking of the floors alerted him that someone was in the room, unable to hide the way his shoulders tensed in apprehension of possible trouble. He didn't let up when he met with green eyes, but his back did instinctively straighten at the sight of his ex-girlfriend. The last time they truly saw each other was in Eichen House, one of the many things he struggled to forget as he remembered the way his throat burned when he shouted at Oliver to let her go. The picture of the drill so close to her head was permanently scalded into his brain, just like the vivid memory of her body unmoving on the ground of the clinic and just like the rising panic in his chest every time she was hurt. It seemed rather far away now, as did her mind.

      Amusingly, Stiles noted that they both looked worse outside of the mental institution than inside of it. She must have had the same idea because she kept flickering to the dark circles under his eyes, hollowing out his face so darkly that he compared to a skeleton. "You look like shit, Stilinski. How are you feeling?"

        Her question was followed by her taking a seat on the chair that Scott placed next to his bed last summer, disregarding all of the things around it that she may have tripped over on another given day. She was close enough to Stiles that they could see each other, but far enough away for her still be comfortable in his presence. He looked at her in mild disbelief, every muscle in his face wondering if she really wanted to ask him that of all questions, before scoffing at her. "Like I just crawled out of a floor."

       "Sounds unpleasant."

        "It was quite nice, actually. Almost like being baptized," Stiles hummed through this teeth, his voice hiding the humor that barely managed to show in his eyes. Even Sage's mouth twitched upward for a second as she glanced down at her rings, playing with them unknowingly. For a moment, she completely forgot that a specific one was missing and that that specific one was a perfect message to be sent to the person next to her... and he got it perfectly. He sighed, but was unsurprised by the pale line on her finger, a weak excuse of a sarcastic smirk forming his lips. "Cheryl would be disappointed in me."

        The familiar name made her look up at Stiles, any hint of what might have been a smile gone. Sage just pressed her lips together, teeth coming down on her tongue hard as she considered the right words to say to him. "She might be more disappointed in me, actually."

        "When did you take it off?" He wasn't sure why that was the question he asked before anything else. He, sure as hell, didn't need to switch out his 'when' with 'why', though. By now, he could rack up more than enough reasons why she would feel convinced to take off the piece of jewelry. She had already kept it on much longer that he originally thought it would stay. It had survived a lot, but not this. Definitely not this.

       Unconsciously, she rubbed at the bare skin where it used to be. "When I was in the hospital."

       Stiles nodded. What the hell else was he supposed to do? Cry—when the rest of the world was still turning on its axis and Lydia was now missing? Kiss her—when the last time he had done that, it was not his mind making the decision? Beg her to take him back—when he wasn't even sure anymore if he was safe to love? Maybe if they weren't wearing caution tape because of the supernatural, he would be on his knees, asking her to give him another chance to prove that he loved her. But he knew when she was in the hospital. He knew why she was in the hospital. He knew that saying anything more would do nothing for him or her. He just settled with nodding, and knowing that that ring was still something to them. It, much like most of their relationship, would have to wait. Just like when they were together. Just like they weren't. And just like all of the things that they would have to figure out in between when it was finally over.

        It was a while before Sage looked at Stiles again. She noticed that he was much blurrier than earlier. His facial features were not as sharp as they were a few minutes ago, mixing features and colors haphazardly together. Instead, as he became a blind sight, the dark circles under her eyes started to burn a bit more than before she walked into the room... and she couldn't understand why. She didn't know why she couldn't see him. Why her face felt so hot and cold at the same time. Why her mouth was suddenly broken and she was unable to keep it closed. Why her throat was burning, scorching and screaming at her to relinquish something she was determined to keep inside. "I'm not sure where we go from here."

        "We find Lydia, and we save her," Stiles explained without looking over at her, not wasting a moment of interpreting what she was actually trying to say or what she wanted to tell him.

       "You know that's not what I meant."

        He finally looked over in surprise when he heard her sentence shudder between syllables, his eyebrows raised high in question when he saw the desperation for an answer that was not what he said. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were watering so much that it was hard to see into them. He wasn't sure if his face could fall any more than when he saw her like that. "It's the only answer I've got right now."

        Sage was the one to nod now, glancing down so that she could quickly wipe her face with her shirt and allow herself to fully see once again. Stiles pretended not to notice. It was not an uncomfortable silence like it had been before, where they were unsure of what to say or what to do around one another. Instead, it was more about the two of them compartmentalizing the list of things that needed to be said now and later. She wasn't sure when they started staring at the walls or how long they had been doing it, their eyes focusing in and out on all of the little details for a while, but it was through the gentle observations that she found the one thing she wanted to say to him—and it was not the first time she had said it. "I know that he doesn't want to win."

        "What?" Stiles asked, gently measuring back into reality so that he could look over at her. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

         "It's what I told Scott earlier when we were talking in the kitchen—what I've known since I saw you in Eichen House." She hated having to meet eyes with him when she said it, but she had to see his reaction. It was clear that he was ready to jump and defend himself the second he understood it was meant to be about him, possibly say that all he'd ever wanted to do was win, but she beat him to it. "I never told him what I meant by it. You don't have to worry. I'm sure he's already come up with something that gets him through the day, but I never told him. I don't think he's ever going to really know anyways."

        Stiles, wanting desperately to deny it with his own words, could see that it was a lost cause and collapsed his defense. Much like Sage, he was playing with his hands again. "What did you mean by it?"

        She didn't know that she had sucked in a breath of air until her lungs were expanding, taking in the knowledge that she would be telling both herself and Stiles something that neither of them wanted to hear. Stiles immediately noticed her hesitation, and that was when he knew that it was going to be about more than just himself and his own resistance against victory. That terrified him even more, and for some reason, so did him being oblivious to what she was going to say next. While she had always been a difficult person to read, he prided himself in knowing her well enough to see how her words would affect her. However, in the time leading up to now, that slowly began to fade. There were a number of reasons of why it happened, the main being their break up, but there was a lingering doubt in his head that told him it was more than that. He just wondered if that reason would be in the answer she gave him.

        "I don't think I would have noticed if I didn't feel the same way," she finally admitted, breaking her uneasiness in revealing what she thought. She shifted in her seat, pausing to think about her answer. "Actually, I think I probably would have no matter what... I just—you never really think about all the things you notice about a person until suddenly something happens, you know? I didn't think that I remembered what Lydia was wearing today, but now all I can think about is that dress and how she wore it on a date this summer to try and get over Jackson. She said it made her legs look longer. I didn't think that I remembered your dad's number by heart, and then he was the first number that I called when I was in Eichen House... or how Allison goes crazy if she doesn't have nail polish on, how Scott always holds onto his backpack straps to keep his hands busy..."

        "How when you're nervous, you play with your rings," Stiles finished. His interruption stopped Sage's anxious ramblings, letting her know that she was still doing exactly what she had been since she walked into the room. He couldn't help but smile weakly, still uncomfortable with that expression on his face. "Do you know that you don't play with the black one or the blue one unless you're scared of something?"

        The uneasy feeling in her stomach returned, looking down at her fingers to see the two rings that he was talking about were currently facing the wrong directions from previously being twisted. She hadn't know it until he pointed it out, but she could understand why. In her own way, they were protection for her. Comfort. "They're the ones from Laura and Luke."

       "You notice because you care, Sage."

        He didn't think too deeply on how he was inadvertently confirming that they both still cared about one another. What mattered more was how they were actually talking. In the time that she was inspecting her hand, he carefully moved his body so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, closer to the blonde than before. He was grateful that her attention was occupied, as she hadn't seem him wince at the action, but she did eventually look back at him. She almost wished that she hadn't of shared the intimate moment with him, wished that he hadn't known how she touched Luke and Laura's rings when she was afraid, wished that she hadn't of spoken up about her thoughts. Now, it made the truth much harder to tell.

        "I knew that you didn't want to win because I could see what all of this was doing to you. You're a good person, Stiles," Sage stressed the words confidently, hoping that it would convince him of what she'd always known. By the way he leaned back from her, she could tell it didn't. "But you don't believe that, do you? You think that the Nogitsune turned you into someone that you've always been scared of becoming—the part of yourself that Scott doesn't understand, that you think I won't understand. But I do. God, I understand. You're furious right now, and you can't figure out if it's at yourself or at the Nogitsune, and you just want to scream and cry and do anything to release that anger because you know how good it feels when you do. And you hate that you feel that way or even want it again at all because of how it hurts other people. I spent an entire day staring at a wall because it was the only thing I could do to keep from tearing everything in my room to pieces. And you know what? I still want to. I'm so angry at everything, and I'm so exhausted at the world, and I'm so tired of fighting to get the people I love back to me—but I will not give the Nogitsune the opportunity to take everything away from me. I refuse to let it happen to you."

        Sage paused for a second to recollect herself, beginning to notice that she was rambling everything that she'd needed to say for a while now. She wasn't surprised that she held out until it was Stiles that she said it to, or that all she needed was a small push by him to tell her that, yes, he was back. He was not the same, and neither was she, but he was back; that was enough for her to continue again, this time pacing herself. The only thing she could think of saying were the words that had already been discussed, only that time it was in Eichen house with raised voices and wet eyes. "Not noticing something about you that day destroyed me, Stiles, because I always thought that I knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes—and I should have noticed. Not because you noticed, or because I felt that I inclined to because we used to date, but because I knew I would have if I hadn't of been so distracted by everything else that was happening around me—"

       "You were in too much pain that day," Stiles dismissed, shaking his head. He wasn't sure how to respond to a lot of the things she said before, but he did know that he would defend her not knowing about the Nogitsune until the day he died. "The Nogitsune knew that, and he used it. I used it. I know you would have noticed, Sage. You did notice. You do."

        He was right. They both knew that he was right, but it would be an argument that never ceased between them. Just as Sage knew that it was impossible for her to notice the difference in Stiles that day, it was impossible for Stiles to change what happened to her because of it. However, that left them in a difficult position of questioning how they were going to get out of the frozen state between staying where they were—accepting what happened—or moving forward. Regardless, they knew that there were still a lot of things left unsaid. Sage did not bring up how Aiden's words from the night before still rang violently in her ears; Stiles did not bring up how he noticed Sage moved away when he was too close to her; they did not bring up how their hearts were beating a mile a minute, as they always had when they were around one another. That had not changed. There was still, and there would probably always be, something between them that could not be explained with words.

         If either of them were going to speak after that, it was quickly interrupted by the sound of Sage's ringtone. The blonde girl was shuffling for her phone immediately, reaching into her jacket to retrieve it before it went to voicemail. Out of blind hope, her only thought was it being Lydia, and the conversation they were having no longer mattered as much. "Hello?"

       "I'm really over this Nogitsune's shitty, mind game." Isaac's voice spit through the phone without greeting, following with a small growl on the profanity he felt the need to add at the end. Sage would have been amused if it weren't for the tone of his sentence. "I'm serious. Scott and Lydia get to take a field trip around in Stiles' demented brain, and I'm stuck getting Deaton's hand shoved down my throat because flies decide to have a fiesta in all of the Beacon Hills werewolves."

        Isaac's explanation had involuntarily caused her eyes to roll for a moment, striking a bit of normalcy at the action she frequently gave the boy. She wasn't surprised to hear Deaton's name. He hadn't been there when she returned from her search around the block for Lydia, meaning that something else had to have happened that was more urgent. Apparently, they weren't doing any better than she and Scott were. It was the first time she'd gotten a call from any of the boys since he left. When she got up from the chair, attention now caught, Stiles took that as his cue to put on some shoes and steal one of Scott's jackets from the edge of his bed.

        "Are you okay? What happened?"

        "We're fine. I almost killed the twins. The twins almost killed me. We almost killed Kira and Allison. Do you think us trying to kill each other is going to become a usual thing? Because, I'm really not on board with that idea," Isaac said, noticeably shaken up by the situation. Sage frowned, turning around to meet eyes with an awaiting Stiles. His eyebrows raised, asking a silent question of what happened. She mouthed the same two words of assurance as Isaac had. "The Nogitsune can make flies control us now, though, as a little note for the future... have you heard anything from Lydia?"

        "No. I thought that you might have been her," Sage explained, not bothering to ignore how his call disappointed her a bit. "Scott, Stiles, and I are going to stop by the station to tell Stilinski what happened and try to find her."

        "Allison and I are going to try and find her car to see if she left anything behind. The twins are going to look around the forest to see if they can pick up a scent or something."

        Sage nodded once to herself, the slightest bit relieved that they were beginning to create a plan on how to get Lydia back. She didn't think too deeply into the twins' willingness to help Lydia, hoping that it was out of their concern for her friend and not to get revenge on the Nogitsune. Just when she was about to say goodbye so that they could get to work, she stopped her own words as one person was left out of the plan. "Hey, have you heard from Derek? I tried calling him a few thousand times earlier, and he hasn't answered any of them. After everything that's been happening, I want to make sure he's okay."

        "I haven't heard anything, but if I get a hold of him, I'll let you know. Be careful, okay?"

        "You, too," Sage said, her heart heavy at knowing that she often ended every conversation with her friends using that phrase. "I'll see you later. Tell Ethan and Aiden to be careful, too- and hey. It's not going to become a usual thing."

        A sigh was audible from the other end of the phone, and she could practically see Isaac's reluctance to believe that through the phone. She didn't blame him, especially after how many times in the past few weeks they'd all been at odds with one another. He didn't say anything more after that, mumbling a small goodbye before the call was disconnected. Sage was left alone in the silence again, slowly putting her phone back in her jacket pocket and hoping that it rang again today with better news. She didn't care who it was from, just anything better than what she'd been getting recently. Stiles was awaiting whatever destructive effect occurred because of the Nogitsune, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he swallowed his nerves and hoped for the best, but by the look on her face, he didn't think that he was going to get an answer.

        Sage, no longer distracted by her phone, looked back to Stiles. "Ready?"

        "No," Stiles confessed, no longer needing to hide his dread of leaving a house that kept him away from other people. If he stayed there, he couldn't hurt anyone outside. But he needed to see his dad. He had to find Lydia. He had to make things right, no matter the cost of his own life.

       "I guess that makes two of us."

        ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ 

        The car ride to the station was neglected of a conversation, only the occasional ticking of a turning signal when it was necessary and the low rumbling of the blue jeep. Sage decided that she would drive after a simple inspection of the boys in the vehicle with her, noticing specifically that Scott had not yet recuperated from the energy put into going in Stiles' mind. Thankfully, there hadn't been a protest, and they were parked in front of a familiar building in a couple of minutes. The blonde in the driver's seat tried to ignore how she caught Stiles rubbing his hands on his pants, staring at the place that still had a construction sign in the front door. To him, every place that he stopped had a bad memory. Scott's house was where the Oni almost killed Agent McCall looking for him. The station was where dozens of people were injured-where some died-because of him.

       Sage turned her head a bit, peering over her shoulder to share a look with Scott. He was already looking her way, his eyebrows furrowed and expression filled with concern. She didn't have to ask to know that it had something to do with Stiles' racing heart. Before either one of them could ask if he was going to be okay, the teenage boy was grabbing a hold of his rusty door and screeching it open. Sage and Scott, not wanting to leave him waiting, were quick to follow.

      The inside of the station had been worked on since the last time they were there. The windows blown out from the explosion were mostly repaired, only a few still covered in a beige sheet to divert the attention away. The desks that had gotten the worst of the blow disappeared and were replaced with a darker stained wood, but what Sage naturally gravitated her attention towards was the spot where Deputy Riverson passed away. She finally learned his name when it showed up in the newspaper the next day under a list of casualties, along with a picture of him and his family. He had a daughter, Emily. She was twelve years old, and her mother said that her father had been her hero from the moment she laid eyes on him. Sage couldn't help the girl keep her father that day. Just like her, Emily would have to adapt to no longer having the man in her life and, somehow, accept it. Because of that, walking past the area brought an unwelcoming fury for all of the people who have said goodbye to someone because of the Nogitsune.

        When they got close to the Sheriff's office, they noticed that Deputy Parrish was just exiting it. They saw him before he saw them, so when he finally realized someone was there and who those specific someones were, his eyes widened in surprise. Stiles gave him a small nod in greeting, going back to taking a few steps forward to reach his dad's door. Sage and Scott stayed a bit behind, nearing in at his shoulder and giving their own signs of greeting to Parrish. Sheriff Stilinski was at his desk, looking around the place for something with no idea of who was standing behind him. It was only when he muttered under his breath that they caught onto what he was searching so vehemently for. "If I could just find my keys..."

        "In your coffee cup," Stiles interjected softly, his eyes warming up at the sight of his father's antics. Knowing exactly where his father put his keys reminded him of his earlier conversation with Sage, not even aware that he knew that about his dad until just then. "You always drop them in your empty cup."

        He turned around the second that he heard his son's voice, but it wasn't until he looked behind the body of Stiles to see Sage and Scott nodding with open expressions that he realized it was his son. It was beyond a voice and beyond a face, and it was beyond any possible emotion Sheriff Stilinski had ever experienced. Without thinking twice, he was rushing forward to grab a hold of the boy, desperate to know that he was real and safe. Stiles was just as distraught, finishing his father's steps and wrapping his arms around him to feel a protection that could only come from his dad. However, he hadn't anticipated how tightly he was going to grip him. Using all of his strength in the hug, the sheriff only released his hold when Stiles let out a muffled choke and greeting to his only parent. Scott moved further into the room during that time, while Sage leaned on the door frame and stayed close to the Stilinski's.

        When the small family broke free, Sheriff Stilinski was turning his head to face Sage to make sure that she was alright next. A reassuring manner appeared on her face, and she gave the man another nod to let him know that everything he was seeing was real. It'd been them together a lot looking for Stiles, and although there was a wave of tension from in the loft earlier, it was undeniably true that they had grown a lot closer than before. She had found her own place in the Stilinski's little family, and that position hadn't ceased. Neither Sage nor Sheriff Stilinski realized that Stiles noticed the exchange; better yet, his relief in seeing that he hadn't caused rifts in their relationship because of the Nogitsune's actions.

        Once satisfied knowing that they were both fine, Sheriff Stilinski looked over at Scott with a slim chance of pleading hope in his voice. "Is it over?"

        "Not yet," Scott denied, grabbing a hold of Sheriff's keys. He looked at the three people in the room with him, each waiting for instructions on what they needed to do next. After all, they were following his instructions. Sage stepped away from the frame, standing up straight to make sure he knew that she was ready to do whatever she had to to get Lydia back. "He took Lydia, which means that we aren't just looking for him anymore. We're looking for her. I don't care what we have to do to get her back or how long it takes."

        "Isaac said that he was going to look for her car with Allison. The twins are looking in the forest to see if they can catch a scent of him or Lydia," Sage said, reiterating what their friend had said recently in a phone call. "He took her for a reason. He knows that we're looking for her, which means that it has to be somewhere one of us knows about."

        Sheriff Stilinski zeroed in on Isaac and Allison's task immediately, knowing that he could help with at least half of what she said. He may not be able to help with it all, but that he could do. It was the least he could do. "I can get Parrish to put an APB out on her car. What's the color and model?"

        "Blue Toyota Corolla. Newest make."

        Sheriff Stilinski nodded, thanking Sage. He gave his son one last look before leaving his office, going to get Parrish's help to make Isaac and Allison's job a bit easier. Meanwhile, the blonde started digging her phone out of her pocket to keep her mind busy as she waited to give Isaac news on the car. A rotten, nagging feeling in her heart was telling her that something was wrong with Derek, distracting her too much to stay focused. It probably had something do with how often she got the sense, but she knew that something was wrong. If everything was okay, he would have called her back or sent her a message. But he hadn't. Instead, her phone screen was blank. Nothing from Derek, nothing from Lydia. She was beginning to grow disheartened all over again. Wanting to try one last time, she pressed Derek's name and waited for it to ring.

        "Hello?"

       Stiles and Scott both turned to look at Sage when a loud exhale escaped her, watching as she ran her hand down her face slowly. Moving to pull at the strands of her blonde hair, her stomach churned with an inexplicable relief. "Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you since yesterday."

        "I got caught up," Derek vaguely mumbled through the phone. Her posture changed the second that she heard the shift in his tone, turning to look at Scott and tilting her head so that he would know she was going outside. As she moved out of the room, noticing along the way that Sheriff Stilinski had stopped next to Parrish's desk, she could already tell that she wasn't going to like what answer she got from her next question. The worst case scenario would be that the same thing happened to him as it did the twins and Isaac, and he got hurt because of it. The best, that he was just tired like everyone else.

        Finally in the face of the cool air, Sage asked. "What happened?"

        The pause on the other end of the line was enough to tell her that it was the worst she could think of. She found herself gnawing on her lip as she waited for an explanation or directions on where she needed to be to clean up whatever disaster he caused. "The Nogitsune. He was able to control me, and I ended up at Argent's place somehow. I thought that I was past the fire—that we were both getting better and moving on from it. Then, the anger just came over me... and I almost took it out on Argent because he was the closest thing I had to Kate at the time."

          Sage didn't answer, even though she wanted to desperately ask if Argent was safe and if Derek was okay. For some reason, she couldn't. She just stood outside of the police station, shifting on her heels as she tried to think of what she could say. The few words of the Hale house fire always got caught in her throat, and more often than not, they left her paralyzed and reliving each millisecond like she was back on the trail. But, this time, it was different because she hadn't known that Derek still thought about it as often as she did. Although, even she didn't express her reoccurring nightmares as much as she used to. It was something she didn't take pride in and something that had since heightened upon her visits to Eichen House. Derek didn't talk about it either, though. Because, while Sage's emotions were wavering like a electrical storm fighting a tsunami, Derek's had always been consistent. He had always been a bottled anger waiting to be volatile.

        "Do you need me?" she asked finally, her hands going for the jeep's keys in her back pocket. If he did, Stiles and Scott could always take a car from Stilinski. They would understand. "I can be home in ten minutes."

        "No. I just talked to Argent. We're going to split up and try to find Lydia. I'm on my way to help the twins and see if we can find a scent for her or the Nogitsune," Derek explained. Slowly, her fingers fell from her pocket. She may have still wanted to go check on him, but she knew that they were needed in different places. "You good? Argent told me you're with Scott and Stiles. Is it actually him?"

         "It's him," Sage confirmed, moving to lean on the wall of the police station. She didn't want to go into further detail about Stiles' return, knowing fully well that the wound was too fresh and she hadn't had enough time to comprehend it all yet. Adjusting herself a bit, she debated on whether or not to tell Derek what she had been wanting to say a couple of hours ago. "I talked to him. The Nogitsune."

        "Sage—"

        "It was my decision," Sage finished, interrupting the man before he could scold her just like Scott had. "We've always known that the Nogitsune was just as curious about me as he was about Stiles. I thought that if I talked to him, I could get him to slip up. He was always more interested in making me angry with his words than paying attention to what he was actually saying. It was the only thing that we could think of doing before time ran out. Derek, there's nothing left inside of this thing. Whatever restraint he had before was because Stiles was fighting him. Now that Stiles is back..."

         "There's nothing stopping him from killing the whole town." Sage didn't need to confirm his words, but hearing them said aloud from another person made her heart skip with a fear that only grew quicker. "Stay with Scott, Sage. I'll try and meet up with you soon, but I need to make sure the twins are actually going to help us. Let me know if anything changes or if you need me. Don't get yourself killed."

        "Same to you," Sage said. "I'll see you at home tonight."

       They hung up right after that, neither one of them able to bring themselves to the point of saying goodbye to each other. It may have just been a conversation, but it was too permanent, and they'd said it too often with horrible outcomes. So, they didn't, and the family of two were forced to believe that they actually would see the other at the end of the night even if it was never completely written out for them. For now, it would suffice that they were safe and aware that neither one of them was in immediate danger.

        Before Sage could enter the station again, the front door was being pushed open and a body was coming out of it with hast actions. She took a step back, it almost hitting her in the process of being swung, and wasn't surprised in the least to see that it was Stiles who almost bodychecked her with the glass door. His eyes widened when he saw how close he had been, arm stretching to grab it despite it being too late. The small exchange—an awkward one at that—swelled Sage's heart a bit, leaving her with the same sentiment as before when she saw him messing with his hands. It was because of this little, yet so large action that she understood why she was feeling that way: she noticed.

        It was the way that he stumbled over his feet when he wore his white Adidas, yet insisted that he continue to wear them because they were his favorite pair of shoes. It was the way that he stuck his neck out at a question because every fiber in his being told him it was incorrect. It was the way he would throw himself at a moving bus for his friends, the way that he stressed his syllables because he wanted everyone to hear what he had to say, the way he could never keep his mouth closed when he laughed. It was the way he cared about other people so much he feared what they would become by knowing him. It was the way that he looked at his father, and the way that he looked at Scott, and the way that he looked at her. She noticed the way he messed with his hands in the bedroom because he always did it when he was scared of what happened next. She noticed the way he pushed the door so quickly because he was eager to tell her what he had always been so horrible at waiting for.

       This time, she noticed. Yet, she couldn't tell him that. Instead, the blonde tied her tongue to her heart and kept from saying anything because, even though she noticed, she didn't know if that was enough for either of them. They had torn themselves apart over a relationship that hadn't lasted that long; they were still tearing themselves apart over a person that they loved so unconditionally it left them tired of love in the first place—and brick wall after brick wall, they ran headfirst into heartache until they couldn't even feel the ache anymore. They were two lovers, loved out of love, and left in a messy altercation where they could not decide if it was heartbreak or heartache that they were feeling. Even more, decide if what they wanted and what they needed were very different things. Because, even though it was most obvious that they had always wanted each other, it doesn't mean that they needed each other. It might just be the exact opposite, and Aiden may have been right after all.

        "We know how to find Lydia."

        Then again, maybe it was all of them.

☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ ☒ 

Hello, everyone. I'm sure there's a huge question on your minds as to where exactly I've been for the past couple of months, and I wanted to give you as close of an answer as possible. Recently, I've felt disconnected to Sage. I wasn't entirely sure why I was feeling this way until recently when I received a message from a friend talking about how much she understood Sage—and I asked myself why she could, but I could not. I realized why after replying to this message. As most of you know, so much of my own identity is pulled from my experiences and put into parts of Sage. As an author, this is a very sensitive thing to do. There are things that can go wrong when putting too much of oneself into their characters, and in the first book, I didn't have that problem because, while I knew Sage, I didn't know her as a part of me.

In this book, however, I revealed a lot of my past to many of you through Sage's character. Some of it has been shadowed. My struggle with depression is most prevalent, of course, as well as my life's consistency in battling anxiety. The anger that I am terrified of within me is beginning to appear the stronger it grows in my mind. I've put my past with my father in Sage's distance from her mother, and I believed that this would make me a better writer. To me, I thought this would make you understand what I was trying to tell the world beyond more than just a work of fanfiction. I am a descriptive writer, and I know that my words are dragged through outs and ends like poetry because every word I type matters. These past few months, I fell off a bit and lost parts of who I was. As both a writer and an individual, I was lost.

Writing Sage was impossible, and what I realized while replying to that message was that I could not write her because I did not know me. I couldn't write about a person who I rooted for so deeply and felt everything so explicitly with. This chapter is not my best work; I am only just beginning to understand who I am as writer again and what it is that I intend to do with what I love, but I am determined to finish this story. There is an inconsistency when it comes to battling depression (as you have seen throughout Still). It comes in waves and it crashes into people without warning—and, to some extent, the need of awareness for those with depression and other mental illnesses will not stop with this book. It will continue on in Sage's life as it continues on in the lives of those who have it now and those who have had it.

Because, while someone once depressed may not feel it every day, it is always still there. I have accepted this, and even given myself a tattoo to remind myself that it is okay to feel it again as long as I don't let it control who I am. It is my open wound, a circular representation of who I used to be and who I have become since. As a message to anyone who may feel lost and confused, whether it is because of life in general or because of a mental illness, it is okay to be wavering. You will eventually find stability, and there will be people along the way ready to hold you until you do. I am one of them.

I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. It may not be the best, and there may be a shift in the style this story is written because there was a shift in my perspective, but it's the best that I have been able to achieve for Sage and myself. Like always, let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you are excited to see come as this story (hopefully) comes close to its end.

Love to you.

Em.