He didn't manage to negotiate a change in his meds.
He did the one session with the therapist he promised to.
He wasn't going back. He was fine now.
His head didn't even hurt anymore.
He saw how pleased his dad was that dinner was already underway when he got home. He tried to credit the therapy for it. Stiles pointed out he cooked dinner plenty of times before without it being an accomplishment. His dad let it go and only complained a little about how healthy his meal was.
He'd programmed his phone to alert him with the same sound it made for incoming texts, with a reminder to start dinner.
He only walked around the parking lot with his arms full of groceries, looking for his Jeep, once. Just one time. It was part of his routine. It was habit. One time, that was totally reasonable.
Him calling a cab and taking it home before an irate Derek phoned him and asked him where the hell he was was harder to brush off. Apparently Derek had driven him to the store and was waiting for him in the car to take him back home.
Every time anybody made plans with him he noted it on his phone, set an alert, and on the rare occasion he forgot about the plans he had a reminder so they never knew.
This wasn't covering it up. This wasn't keeping problems from them. He was simply managing a problem as it slowly faded away. Managing an issue without taking extra Adderal or overdoing it on energy drinks. There was nothing wrong with this.
This was responsible.
Hell, he was more organised now that he'd ever been before the accident.
"Is it true Stilinski tried to off himself last month?"
He heard the question just before he rounded the corner to get to his next class and froze.
He didn't recognise the voice.
"Why you askin' me?"
That was...he knew who that was...
"You know him."
"I know you too. I don't know your business."
"But you were both friends with that girl. That dead girl."
Danielle?
"What are you, a vulture? You get off on death, you sick freak?"
Stiles puffed out his chest and walked around the corner to stand at her side. The guy was already backing off from the waves of rage Danielle was radiating.
"I'm sorry, did you have a question for me?" Stiles took a step toward him.
The kid waved his hands before him and turned to scuttle off down the hall, like the cockroach he was.
"Human turd," Danielle spat out in disgust.
"It's Stiles, actually."
"Not y..." she stopped and smirked at him. "You alright?"
He shrugged and then nodded. Danielle nodded in the direction the roach had fled.
"Between the two of us we could get him suspended, wanna go for it?"
"Nah, I get enough overprotection already." Stiles sighed. "Oh, but if you want to make a complaint I'll back you up."
"I fight my own battles, I'll take him down in my own time."
Stiles nodded, not doubting this to be true for one second. They took a backwards step away from each other, gesturing toward their respective destinations.
"So I have class," Stiles said.
"And I've got my session with the guidence councellor."
Stiles stopped backing away down the hall.
"You uh, you still go?"
"Yeah."
"Who is it? I mean since Ms Morrell left."
"Ms Ramsey."
Stiles shook his head. She wasn't one of his present teachers.
"Is she any good?"
Danielle tilted her head, considering him for a moment, before answering.
"She's good for me. I can ask her to..."
"I'll do it. I'll go. I'm late already. Thanks, Heather."
"Danielle."
"What?" Stiles blinked.
"See you around, Stiles." She gave him a weird look and then turned the corner, out of sight.
He suspected that Lydia had done something, or the teacher had made a call, whatever it was he knew something was going on for his benefit.
Every Physics class he'd had since he returned to school had been one where everybody needed to pair up to work together. Every time Lydia would have her desk drawn up to his before the instruction to find a partner was given.
Stiles had mentioned how cool Physics class was because they were allowed to listen to music with ear buds while they worked on their written work and even during tests.
Scott had said they hadn't done that when he took the class with that teacher. Kira said how much she'd hated the class when she had it, and was about to comment how jealous she was and how cool it sounded now when her eyes suddenly widened and her mouth clamped shut.
Stiles took out his phone and typed himself an alert for when he got home.
Research teaching techniques for kids with fucked up brains.
He'd been right.
Students may use an FM unit or earplugs to reduce external noise.
Seating the student near the teacher or by an appropriate peer.
Students may need simplified instructions, written or picture checklists of task steps.
Stiles pulled his Physics homework sheet out of his backpack. There it was. He had five clear objectives, all with a check box beside them. There was even a suggested time for each one.
He didn't know if he felt sick or angry about this. He stared at the sheet for some considerable time before there was a knock on his front door. He rubbed his head, put the sheet away, reduced the window on his laptop screen and hurried down the stairs to answer the door.
Derek was standing there, looking as if he'd been trying to see through the door using nothing but the the power of his scowl.
"Hey Derek." Stiles shifted from one foot to the other, hoping he hadn't forgotten plans to do something or be somewhere. "What're you doing 'round these parts?"
"What's wrong?" Derek sounded as if he wanted nothing more that to be pointed in the direction of something and then ordered to destroy it.
"Um, nothing."
Derek's frown deepened and he looked over Stiles' shoulder, into the house.
"What are you doing?" He ground out the question with unnerving intensity.
Stiles didn't know what he'd done wrong. Had he spaced out? Was he supposed to be somewhere. Had Derek been waiting for him in a parking lot again?
"I'm doing my homework. Seriously, what is it, dude?"
"Don't call me..." Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. "Homework. You sat down to do your homework."
"Yeah, why?"
"Is it hard?"
"What?" Stiles flailed a hand at Derek and shook his head. "This isn't cool, man. My brain's all foggy and I fuck up sometimes and you're confusing me. Are you confusing me for a reason? I don't need more mind fuckery."
Derek's scowl receeded a little and his eyes widened. His demeanour changed and he didn't seem to be as big as before.
"Sorry, I was stopping by and I just focused my senses to see if you were home and it felt as if you were...upset about something."
Stiles face dropped and he averted his eyes. Now they both knew where this was going neither seemed to want to make eye contact any more. It was easier to glare right into each other's souls when they were furious with each other for no reason.
"It's nothing, it was just a homework thing." Stiles mumbled into his chest.
"What class?"
"Physics."
Derek met Stiles eyes and cocked his head.
"But that's supposed to be... I mean... You don't like physics?"
Now Stiles looked right into Derek, jaw clenching.
"You know."
"What?" Derek was trying not to blink, Stiles could tell.
"You're in on it too." Stiles gripped the door and teetered between flinging it wide open and slamming it on Derek's implacable face.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't keep stuff to yourself, Stiles. Don't lie, Stiles. Don't say you're fine when stuff is on your mind, Stiles. Share everything so we're not in the dark, Stiles. Fucking hypocrites!"
The slamming of the door won out.
Stiles stomped up the stairs to his room while Derek banged his fist against the door and shouted after him to come back and 'just listen for a minute'.
He paced in his room, rubbing his hands against his head until his hair stuck out at all angles. Derek stopped banging on the door. Stiles looked at his bedroom window and stumbled over to it to close and lock it. He grabbed an hourglass Argent had given him before he left with Isaac and threw it against the window frame. The glass broke, the mountain ash formed the perfect seal, and Stiles yanked the curtains closed.
His phone started to ring. Derek. He swiped to ignore the call. The pacing began again.
"So you're making special allowances for me behind my back and telling me I'm doing better to my face?" Stiles shouted to the room as the pacing picked up speed, knowing Derek was out there listening, invading his privacy like he'd probably been doing the whole time. "You just happen to be passing or stopping by or outside my house every fucking second because I'm doing so well!"
The phone rang again. His dad. He swiped the call away and bellowed at the window.
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare send my dad in to calm me down you fuckers!"
Stiles thundered into the bathroom and tore apart the medicine cabinet.
"I let you spoon feed me my meds, I go to your stupid therapy, I don't even drink Coca-fucking-cola because 'Oh caffeine, Stiles, caffeine'!"
Stiles ran back to his bedroom when the sound of his ringtone chimed out again. Scott.
"Nope!"
Stiles rejected the call.
The phone rang again, immediately after. Lydia.
"Leave me alone!" Stiles screamed, raking his fingers throuh his hair as he sank to the bedroom floor.
"I'm coming in, Stiles." Derek shouted through the front door. "Let me in or I break the door down, your choice."
Stiles bounded down the stairs, grabbed what looked like a glass ornamental egg and hurled it against the baseboard. Another line of mountain ash formed. He ran through the house at the same time Derek sprinted around it to get to the back door. He had this covered. Argent had gone out of his way to make sure the only human left alive was the most protected human to ever exist. He grabbed a small jar from the spice rack, a rack full of absolutely no spices, and smashed that against the back door.
Derek was thwarted.
Stiles was consumed with adrenaline.
He hurtled back up the stairs and stomped into his dad's room. Every drawer was pulled out and emptied onto the bed. The wardrobe was searched. The bedside table was flipped so he could see underneath it.
He found nothing.
"If Adderall is cheating then what the fuck is this?" He shouted at everything and nothing. "I can't take one extra pill to do my homework but you can have a whole class adapted so I can handle it. You're all a bunch of hypocrytes, you know that?"
He paced his dad's room until his rant was over, then let his momentom carry him back to his own bedroom.
Missed calls. So many missed calls.
"Go away," he sighed into his hands, shakily.
The pacing continued.
Then he heard a key in the front door. He threw himself at his bedroom door and slammed it closed. He leaned his body against it, flicked the lock, and closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged and heart was pounding.
It must be his dad. His dad was going to be so mad.
The stairs creaked, the footsteps were soft and slow, he was being approached like a cornered animal.
There was a light tap against his bedroom door and he gripped the door knob so it couldn't be turned.
"Stiles?"
He swallowed and his eyes opened in surprise.
Mrs McCall?
He suddenly felt weak at the knees. He was shaking all over and the adrenaline left him all at once, like a flop sweat.
"Sweetie, I didn't break the ash, and I'm the only one in the house. Can I come in and see you?"
"He called you?" Stiles whimpered.
"I got nearly as many calls as you," she replied. "Can I come in and sit with you?"
Stiles tried to grip the door knob just as tight as he'd held it before, but his hands weren't doing anything but twitching by this point.
"I'm not scared of you," she said, softly, "and you're not scared of me. I trust you and you trust me, remember? I know you. You know me. You can come to me for anything. I've come to you this time and whatever it is that's happned tonight, I'm here for you."
Stiles sagged against the door and his throat felt as if he had a clenched fist lodged in it.
"Stiles, honey, have you hurt yourself?"
He slid down the door and landed heavily on the floor, leaning against the door and exhaling shakily. He sniffed, wiped his eyes, and then croaked out an answer that he doubted even werewolf hearing would be able to pick up.
"No."
"Good boy."
She was talking to him so softly, and it sounded like she was crouching on the other side of the door, following the sound of his voice.
"Did you take anything?"
He pressed his lips together. She could see the state of the bathroom from where she was.
"No."
There was a long silence. Stiles felt really tired now that his energy had completely drained. Melissa tried once again to reach him.
"Please can I come in?"
Stiles nodded, silently. Then swallowed and shifted around to unlock the door, turn the knob, and let the door slowly creak open a little. He stayed, sitting on the floor, behind it. Melissa grunted to her feet and then peered around the door to see where he was.
"Shuffle over a little?" She smiled down at him.
Stiles moved away from the door, then drew his knees up to his chest and curled his arms around them, tightly. Melissa stepped inside and looked at him with 'I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed' eyes. She squatted in front of him and cupped his face with one hand.
"I'm not going to lie to you, not about anything, okay?"
He nodded and she kept her hand against his face, sitting down cross-legged, before rubbing the pad of her thumb against his cheek.
"I love you." She said, firmly, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I love you and that's not a lie."
Stiles crumpled and her hand slid around his face to the back of his neck and pulled him into her for a hug. He fell against her, heavily, and she just managed to brace herself enough not to topple flat onto her back with him. His arms were tight around her back, clutching handfulls of her nurses scrubs.
"Whatever you found out, whatever we did that hurt you so much, I don't want you to doubt yourself over this." She rubbed circles against his back. "Your brain has been such hard work for you for so long, I know, but you remember this. Remember that however scrambled you feel inside your head, you worked it out. You worked out whatever it was we've done to make you so angry. You're brain did that, with no drugs or stimulants."
"My physics class is a special needs class now, all because of me." Stiles managed to choke out.
"That's not true, now is it?"
"I can prove it, I found the evidence, three pieces of evidence." Stiles sniffed. "One's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern."
"Tell me this," Melissa leaned back to look him in the eye before continuing, "why on earth would Lydia Martin be put in a special needs class?"
Stiles had nothing. Melissa stroked his hair, which must have looked quite a state, and pulled him back into the hug. His head was against her chest this time and she rocked them from side to side.
"I thought I could do it." Stiles finally spoke up. "I thought I was doing it, that I was getting better, but it wasn't me. They made changes to the class so I could do it. I'm not... I didn't get better."
"You got so much better, Stiles," Melissa said with a soft laugh, "I can't believe it sometimes. You are getting better all the time and I'm not lying to you. I promised you, no lies. This isn't a lie. You...are...getting...better."
Stiles dragged in the deepest breath he could without shuddering, then let it go.
"Even now, after this?" He looked around his room, keeping is head against her chest as he did. "Tonight's meltdown didn't feel better."
"Even now, sweetie, even now."
