The new semester had started two weeks ago and they were already having a test. It was simply ridiculous, Stiles even said it allowed to the teacher, but he was pointedly ignored, as usual.

Once the tests were handed out, and Stiles realized that he hadn't read anything about the book they had been assigned, either Catcher in the Rye or The Lord of the Flies. It didn't really matter, he was fantastic at bull-shitting answers and context clues anyway, he'd be fine.

As he was filling in his name, sloppily writing Stiles Stilinski, in his barely ledgable writing, he realized he had absolutely no idea what the date was. None. That was odd. He knew the next full moon was in exactly five days and that the Alpha pack was to be interviewing (or testing or whatever, Derek hadn't really specified) everyone in and involved with the pack exactly two days after. He also knew that the day of the full moon was a Tuesday, making today a Thursday, but he wasn't sure at all what today's date was.

He wasn't even positive on what month.

Leaning over, Stiles poked the kid sitting next to him, only vaguely aware that he was in his grade and that his name began with a "K". Or was it a "T"? Either way it didn't matter.

"Psst," Stiles hissed, earning himself a righteous glare that he didn't even take notice of, "What's today's date?" Stiles gestured to their test, as if clarifying why he actually needed the answer.

"It's November 8th, dumbass."

What? Stiles froze. But, the semester only started… What?

Then horror set in. Today's Mom's…

With that terrifying thought that he had forgotten what today was, Stiles left the classroom and the school altogether, not even glancing back.

He wasn't exactly sure how he had ended up in the woods, it really wasn't even a go to place, but that's where he was. Idly he wondered why he hadn't just hopped in his Jeep and gone home, but then he was thinking about everything else all over again.

Today was Mom's… A wave of nausea hit him and his steps faltered slightly, but still he continued. How could I forget? How?

The rational side of him was whispering things, such as he had so many other things on his plate, like Scott, his Dad, the Alpha pack, Derek, the Hunters, the Hale pack, and trying to learn little things from the Vet to help out the pack in between everything else. A part of him was mumbling that Mom would have understood, she would forgive him, she knew he was trying so hard, just to protect everyone.

Then other thoughts were screaming at him, blubbering and sobbing, things about how awful a person he was, how worthless he was, how he wasn't even a good son when she was dead!

He could feel the panic coming in, how his vision was narrowing and his breathing becoming more and more difficult. He could even feel his blood leaving him, like he didn't really have hands and feet at all, just so much pain right in his chest, and no amount of air could fix it.

I forgot.

That thought took him to his knees, and suddenly he was rolling through leaves and dirt, and claws were scratching at his throat, because what was air? Whatever it was, there wasn't enough.

Then, what felt like hours passed, or was it seconds? Did it feel like seconds and was actually hours? Stiles wasn't sure. All he could feel was himself breathing. Just breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out.

In.

I forgot that my Mother died today.

He was drowning.

Hours past, and Stiles only vaguely noticed, just continued to breathe and Stiles could feel his body growing cold, like all his blood had left him and like nothing mattered in the world at all. It was…disturbing. It felt like he was dying.

Then he heard it.

"Sti- !" What?

"Stiles!" Someone's…

"-iles! I swear I'm gonna rip your throat out with my teeth!"

Stiles' eyes widened drastically. He knew only one person who would threaten him with that.

"…Derek?" Stiles croaked, his voice dry from lack of use and his hyperventilating for who knows how long. God, this is so embarrassing.

"Stiles! What the fuck?!" Derek yelled, manhandling Stiles until he was standing upright.

"You ask me like I actually have a clue as to what I'm doing." Stiles mumbled, trying to casually dust the leaves and dirt that was covering him off, casually brushing off the entire scene with it all together.

"Stiles," Derek growled, grasping Stiles' biceps harshly, his eyes glowing red and nails already elongated, "What. Happened."

"Nothing, Derek, it's fine. I'm fine. You can go back to all your pack business and what not. I just have to find my car and I'm gonna go home and sleep for a while or something. I don't think I've been sleeping, no that I think about it. I haven't, actually. Nope. I've been reading almost anything and everything that could possibly help us out right now because you refuse to answer any question I have, and I ne-"

"Stiles. Shut up. Stop lying. What. Happened." Derek still had his hands wrapped around Stiles' arms but he was looking down, obviously trying to collect himself.

Stiles stared for a moment. Bewildered partly because he honestly didn't think anyone would care that he had spent an entire day apparently having a panic attack, let alone Derek. Then again, he did look like a victim of some sort of assault, given he fell down some sort of hill and stayed at the bottom until Derek showed up…

"Stiles," Derek's tone warning.

"I kinda sorta had a panic attack and freaked out once I realized that I forgot today was the day my Mom died," Stiles mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "It's weird really, if you think about it. It's been a few years now, but it totally blindsided me today and I have no idea why. Maybe because I've been freaking out about all the other stuff that's been going on, and apparently have missed a lot more of school than I had originally thought. But it's ok, really, bec-"

"No, Stiles. It's not ok," Derek finally looked back up, his eyes fading from red to that strange and entrancing green that Stiles couldn't really name, "but I'll make it that way."