Sparks, Flowers and Plaid Shirts (Book Two in the 'Plaid Shirts' series)

Panic in the Locker room - (Lydia POV)

A/N- Yes that is the title. Yes I meant it as a Pan!c joke. No I am not even remotely sorry. Apologies for time away. My life has gone from 0-100 real fast in the past however long, it would probably take a whole chapter just to explain. For those who have been sending me messages, I am okay, sorry I worried a few of you, I am back on track now but will just be adding to this story when I can x 

The form of the nogitsune in Stiles body reseeds through the trees and the rustling of past Allison, Aiden and I dies off as far as my human ears can hear. We are left standing in the empty clearing, the dark closing in from the corners at a slower sedate pace. A cold wind sweeps through the clearing and strands of my hair whip into my face. Scott leans heavily against the nearest tree and breathes deeply, "This is really exhausting". All I can do is nod my head and look over at the other in the group. My stomach drops further and further. The knowledge that I have been in so many of these memories though they haven't been the ones that Stiles associated with me leaves dread in every pore of my body. How bad does the memory have to be for him to associate it as a bad experience with me. "It has to be almost over. It has to be. There can't be that many bad memories with us. There just can't", Melissa says in denial. 

"I would think-", a gust of wind takes all the wind out of my lungs and forces me to the ground coughing on my hands and knees. The sound of the other's in the pack's bodies falling to the floor as well is muffled by the rushing wind. The darkness of the clearing seems to become deeper and the leaves beneath my palms turn slowly harder and cooler until it feels like smooth concrete. The whole world swims and then I find myself coughing and spluttering on the linoleum floors of Beacon Hills high crouched over in the middle of the corridor. There is an intense rushing feeling as someone walks straight through me. In cut off acid-wash jeans. Ugh. Jackson puts his hand on my shoulder and helps me up to my feet, giving me a small smile as Derek announces, "There, on the stairs".  We all turn to look at in the direction of a small set of stairs where Stiles and I are descending while speaking. Past me has an edge of annoyance in her voice as she speaks, "Aiden isn't texting me back". 

Jackson's low growl reverberated through the corridor slightly and I pat the back of his hand in reassurance. Stiles and my past self reach the bottom of the small flight of stairs, while I continue to walk through the corridor Stiles stops dead in his tracks. Past me finally notices the other has Stiles has stopped and turns back to face the boy who is looking around himself before looking back at past me. Past me opens her mouth and says, "Okay well maybe we could just... go over there and -", I am cut off by Stiles' phone going off, which rude, and he takes it out of his pocket. His figures slide over the screen as he opens the message and as he begins to read it his hands shake around the device, eyes scanning the screen over and over. Past me says "What?" with a more concerned tone before announcing (with more exasperation), "Oh God, What is it now?!?". 

-WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF PANIC ATTACK COMING UP (WILL REMAIN UNTIL I PUT A SIMILAR LOOKING LINE OF TEXT)-

Stiles doesn't respond right away, only licks his lips before speaking more timidly than what was usual for the boy, "It's from Isaac", he pauses to take a slightly too shaky breath, "Jenifer's t-took. She has Allison's father. She took him. She's got all three Now". It all comes out of him in one breath before Stiles looks back up at past me. He tries to fumble his phone back into his pocket but his hands tremble too violently. He tries too inhale deeply but it sounds choked like it is getting trapped in his airways. The air in the corridor seems to constricts around me and I look at the others confused. Their tight faces look as if the air has been forced out of them too, their eyes wide in familiar shock. Stiles holds up a shaky hand and turns away from past me. Everything in the corridor brightens to suck an intense colour that the weres wince and squeeze there eyes shut momentarily. The noise of the corridor becomes a kin to rushing blood in my ears and every movement flickers from being too fast to far too slow. Scott, where he is gripping the side of his head gasps the loudest as Kyle Munford - a stout freshman - rolls past on his skate board, the sound echoing through the corridor in a cannon's boom.