When Stiles got to school he avoided looking at people. Mostly their faces because some of them he could still see mauled and frozen with... He slammed his locker quickly the stop that thought from getting worse.

Scott -who was currently chatting idly about his long awaited date with Kira after school- jumped at the sound and frowned, "Dude what's wrong?" he tilted his head and gave one of his worried puppy looks.

Stiles sighed and shook his head, "Just tired s'all. Don't worry about me. So, anything other than your" he air quoted for the next bit, "going to be perfect and romantic but in a charming and totally sweet way, date tonight; that you wanted to discuss." he leaned against the lockers trying to ignore the perfume drifting towards them, something severely cherry related. Scott pulled his eyebrows together in thought then grinned and shook his head, with the big ole' crooked smile, "Nope". At which point the bell rang and saved Stiles from another onslaught of adjectives. They pair split up for the block and managed to get to their respective classes in decent time. This particular class was nothing special, save for the ridiculous amount of axe and chalk and Jesus who has a ring tone like that? Same was the next block, and lunch. But the moment he stepped into his third block class something burrowed beneath his skin, riddling him with cautionary goosebumps.

He took his seat next to Scott and blinked, something felt off, skewed. Scott nudged him, "You ok?...kinda doing that whole look again." he looked genuinely worried.

Stiles blinked again and nods, "Yeah buddy no worries. Just you know..." he paused thinking...lost on which thought to chase; another round of bells and smells and sounds distracting him to much to form a coherent excuse.

"Tired?" Scott filled in for him; smiling almost apologetically. Stiles nods and flinches as Coach called them out on their "girl talk". The class went by slowly and the tapping noises of pencils filled it thoroughly, it made Stiles' stomach queasy and his throat tight but that weird threatened feeling subsided. Class was almost through that it started again, the odd feeling like a rabbit trapped in its hole. The noises seemed louder and the smells thicker after wards in a sense of adrenaline rush. His vision blurred for a moment, when he looked up it seemed to still of an image, like a poorly taken photograph. His skin buzzed and is throat tightened like a lump of honey was trapped. Sometime during this his heart started to pick up speed again. He could vaguely hear Scott trying to get his attention but his was frozen. Scott watched his frightened friend and his worry increased as he tried to whisper harshly and snap him out of it. Stiles' eyes were still frozen on the wall.

The bell rang and its shrill note almost made him throw up like seriously he could taste the bile in his throat, he grabbed his bag and moved like he was still in a dream and frankly any thought of dreaming terrified him, which only made Scott worry more and follow him. He made a dash for the outside doors and pushed through them, gasping for breath. It wasn't an attack, it didn't feel like an attack. He was just hearing and seeing and smelling and feeling way too much. Scott watched like the good concerned best friend he was as Stiles collapsed against the wall.

When Stiles managed to calm his heart and catch his breath he tried to run through his frantic thoughts, one such being something called hypersensitivity and it made a bit more sense what was happening and he calmed down more, he always felt better knowing reasons. Scott crouched next to him and used his most quiet voice, "Stiles...buddy?"

Blinking away the burning in his eyes Stiles looks up and sighs, "Just...a moment of extreme... loss of control on the sensitivity buttons...I'm good." he took a deep breath and looked at Scott doing his best not to throw up. Maybe it was a side effect...maybe the dream was too...

Scott didn't seem to think that was any better of an answer then "just tired" so he didn't budge just kept looking at Stiles worriedly, like how his mother used to look at him when he had a fever. Stiles smiled bitterly, "Get to class Scotty, I'll be good in a few..." he pushed on his friend's shoulder lightly unbalancing him. Scott still looked unsure but he stood anyways. After everything with demonic ninjas and crazy fox demons...Stiles had seemed off to him like a damaged object. For now Scott gave him some space probably fully intent on interrogating him after school.

Stiles leaned back and took small breaths. He wasn't keen on the idea of going back to class or said interrogation, and the sound of the bell triggering another wave of nausea decided it for him that he wasn't going to deal with either. Instead he thought it best to go home and try to ease the ever growing panic that came with this weird hypersensitivity thing going on. He knew that driving home was no longer an option because how the hell they managed to keep such tight regulations on the parking lot astounded everyone, who wanted to work here after everything that had happened.

He opted out for walking to his house, it wasn't to far anyways. Hoisting his bag up he stumbled still a bit dizzy in the head. He used the low walls as balance and worked his way around the lacrosse field. It wasn't to hard a decision to make, considering it seemed t be the only clear and visible coherent thought he could manage without throwing up. Which he only did once and he deeply regretted eating pizza that day.

He had to take a minute to stop an sit down on the side of the road catching his breath. He hadn't felt this sick in a very long time, which included the famous "food poising at your own hand" he had suffered back in the seventh grade. He didn't know when he got lost in that thought but knew it was to long when he heard a snapping noise in the woods on the opposite side of the road. Then another coming towards the edge of he woods. Somehow his current state of mind took this as the warning it was and he was on his feet in seconds.

Apparently that warning his brain had latched on to was the only thing it had latched onto, which explained how he ended up crashing over a branch with barely breath in him a good mile from the road. Since when did he have a "fight or why not run?" complex...

He couldn't really dwell on that since he was also in the process of violent throwing up, his body wracked with tremors and this adrenaline over drive making it hard to breath and think at the same time. The minutes dragged by and that drive quickly became his worst enemy as it triggered a panic attack. He clutched at his chest and bile covered shirt wheezing for air. His vision blackened at the edges and the sounds around him were deafening. He could just make out the sound of gnarly growl and branches snapping then something like an even louder snapping and it echoed off the trees, Stiles crawled away while the noises surrounded everything, he crawled and cried and threw up and everything was crashing in on him that he entirely went blank...

Some time after the loss of thoughts and feeling he found himself laying on the side or the road with his phone in his hands and he was going in and out of consciousness. The loud screech of rubber burned through lightly and he felt more than saw someone standing over him.

And again the same garbled voice... "Stiles...easy Stiles..." he could feel the electricity that came with hands bracing themselves on his shoulders and turning him around."Stiles let go...I've got you..."

That was the last thing he managed to catch before collapsing onto the darkness...

Something about the voice lulled him into tumultuous dreams.