Stiles presumably completely forgotten about the history project you’re both supposed to be working on for school.

While swinging by his house, Upon entering his room, you’re greeted by the sight of a plethora of books littering just about every surface, Stiles was on the floor, legs sprawled out under him, his back propped up against one of the walls of his room.

“Oh …” he mumbles in pain, chest tightening. He’s clutching it, hunched over, hyperventilating.