"Today, we take our exam. Remember, this is sixty percent of your grade." The instructor began handing out the sheets of paper to the front row students. As they passed back the sheets, nervousness wracked Stiles' bones. He studied – a lot – but at the same time, it hadn't felt like enough. And, if it wasn't for Jackson's noisy mess, maybe he'd have gotten his mind off it easier. Something plagued him though, something about it hadn't added up.
Stiles pressed a flat palm against the side of his head after receiving the exam on his desk. Damn it. Damn it. Was all he could think. Curiosity spun through his mind, curiosity about how Jackson's room had wound up such a disastrous mess. His eyes flicked to the side and he slightly turned his head to peer at the other male across the room. This had to be the one class they shared. Boy, did he hate math even more than he had before.
"Begin," Mr. Thompson checked the clock. "You have exactly one hour."
Stiles wiped a hand down his face.
Jackson was lost in his own thoughts, his heart rate seemed much higher than usual thanks to the nightmare he'd had. It wasn't exactly a nightmare, though, was it? More of a recounting of the events that had happened the previous night; a reminder. Time began to tick down and Jackson's ears caught the sounds of the clock in a much heavier way than they usually had. Glancing up, he looked up at the object.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He almost winced at each tick, his eye twitching. What was going on? Why was the clock ticking at such a louder frequency than usual? That's when the other sounds invaded his ears; other students pencils dragging across their papers, one girl began coughing, another student let out a drawl of a sigh, and Stiles – Stiles cleared his throat. What a pest.
Peering around the room, he caught Stiles' eyes but the brunette quickly turned away. Jackson rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand how nosy that Stilinski guy seemed to be. He was always getting in trouble for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Not only that but his persistent questions even frustrated the instructor, usually causing Jackson to smirk in enjoyment.
"Uh, what if we don't understand a question?" Stiles blurted out. "And what if we don't understand an entire formula? Or, or a-"
"Just guess, Stilinski." Mr. Thompson responded, almost annoyed.
However, their interaction didn't amuse Jackson, not today. Instead, their voices invaded his ears, much like the clock and the other students. He began to sweat and brought a hand to his face to wipe his forehead.
Stiles glanced over to see if that jerk was smirking from the previous interaction with the teacher, catching a glimpse of Jackson wiping his forehead. What was he so stressed about? Jackson usually kept his cool during these exams and usually scored a high grade. How did Stiles know? Because the ass would boast about it to the entire floor, including him. He'd throw it in his face, something that caused Stiles' blood to stir in anger.
The combination of each little sound began to drive Jackson insane. That's when the smells hit him. He could smell the persperation of the male student a few rows down, the perfume of the girl at the very front of the room, the smell of a donut that another student was eating in the back of the classroom. What the hell was going on? He couldn't handle it anymore and rose from his seat. Quickly, he darted down the stairs of the classroom and abruptly exited the room, charging right towards the restroom.
"Well, that's out of character." Stiles noticed, mumbling under his breath.
Once inside the restroom, Jackson checked each stall to make sure he was completely alone. As the coast was clear, the blonde paced over to one of the sinks, staring at himself in the mirror. He flicked on the cold water, the sound excruciating to his ears. Trying to ignore it, he brought his hands hurriedly towards the cool substance and after it pooled in his hands, he brought it to his face, allowing him to snap back into reality and away from all the disturbing heightened senses. He breathed heavily, trying to inhale and exhale at a steady rate but it took a while longer than he'd realized.
Finally lifting his head, his eyes fell back into the mirror. While he peered at himself, his eyes flickered a bright golden color, causing him to take a step back in horror with a slight gasp. Quickly, claws began to extend from his fingertips and facial hair began to clutter his usually clean shaven face, canines protruding from his teeth. "Argh!" He groaned in fear as his eyes flicked down towards his hands and then back to the mirror. What was he?
In a flash, the door of the bathroom opened and his features were back to that of his usual self. He brought his hands to his face, his fingertips trailed down each inch of his skin. Stunned, he darted out of the bathroom without another thought.
"What the hell, man?" His classmate's voice hit him long after he'd exited the restroom.
He needed to get away. Fast. As he scrambled down the stairs of the school and out towards the parking lot, Jackson rushed towards his Porsche and pulled open the door with a large might of strength, strength he didn't realize he had. It made the hinges of the door creak, as if they were about to break right then and there. Stopping, he shut the door with the same amount of strength, causing the windows to shatter. Nervously, he peered around to make sure none of his classmates had heard or seen this. Lucky for him, they didn't.
That's when he began running, running as far away from the campus as he could. Unbeknownst to him, Stiles had curiously left the classroom and the exam behind in search of Jackson. He caught a glimpse of the male running outside the building and followed. That's when he saw Jackson in the parking lot and the windows bust on his Porsche. Chestnut hues widened at the sight.
"Woah," Stiles breathed out.
After Jackson disappeared, Stiles carefully crept upon the Porsche. Broken glass littered the parking space and he noticed the front door was lopsided on its hinges. Bending down to exam the hinges, he allowed his eyes to trace every crevice of the car and the door.
"How in the world.."
He needed to investigate this further. That's when Stiles checked to make sure Jackson was long gone. Once he was certain the other male was absent from the campus, he walked back inside the school and climbed the staircase towards the dormitories. He came upon his own room but then walked right past it, coming upon Jackson's. Slowly, he opened the door. It wasn't hard to do, the door was still broken. The room was still a mess like it had been the previous night. However, something caught his eyes this time; something so unusual.
Claw marks were embedded into the small table near the bedside.
Stiles twisted his head to the side and glanced out the bedroom. "Jackson?" He wondered aloud. What did all of this mean? Why were there claw marks on the furnishings in the bedroom?