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It had been a bad fucking day for Stiles OK. His homework literally got chewed up by a stray dog, a big huge hulking fucking stray dog in the middle of Beacon Hills, go figure that out. His jeep got three, yes, three fucking flat within the duration of one fucking day. Scott is mooning over Allison again so deeply that he forgot to give Stiles the lift he promised during class and so he got stranded at school and his mobile, his fucking mobile of course had no charge at all, how fucking fitting.

So he had trudged home, his just finished homework in stray papers shoved carelessly into a back pocket of the bag, which is how the dog, the big ass motherfuck of a dog, made away with it, possibly in a bid to get at food that Stiles may or may not have been stashing for some really bad day. And of course, the chocolate bar was not there when he had searched later, sitting on the steps outside the house, too tired to even go inside. His dad had double shifts so would not be coming till late morning, well past after Stiles had left for class maybe.

Giving a defeated sigh, Stiles picked up his bag and went inside. He was hungry but did not feel like making anything. So putting his bag on the kitchen table, Stiles poured a glass of orange juice and promptly crashed the glass and it’s full content on to the floor from his slippery hands. Stiles put his head in his hands, gave a wheeze of a scream and just headed to his room. Maybe sleep will do him some good, maybe sleeping the day off with take away whatever curse whichever witch laid on him.

So Stiles went to him room and fell face first onto his bed, thoroughly dejected with the way the whole day had gone. He also wished his dad were home, he might have made Stiles some hot chocolate and fussed a bit about him. It is at times like this that Stiles would remember his mother, dead almost a decade by now, and how she would keep snacks for him to come have from school. He had felt very much loved those days and he knew he was a happy kid then as well. Now though, now he did not feel happy nor felt the need to be outright happy as well.

Some days, it felt as if things will never go right for Stiles, some days it felt like life was going in one direction and Stiles was stumbling helplessly in another. Some days, Stiles just felt so tired and small and young and old at the same time that it didn’t even make sense. Those days were the worst, when his alderall did not seem to work, when his head seem to get loopy from his own thoughts and when even Scott flinched away from his word vomit and ceaseless cry for attention.

Stiles knew, Stile knew that he got annoying then, so annoying that even his own father grimaced at the nonstop storm of words, of sounds that seemed to emit from Stiles on such days. When his teachers tried to not look towards him, when they made faces at the lack of thought of the tandem thoughts that passed through Stiles’s mind and those that he sought to give voice to because it became so full, so full in his lonesome head. He usually managed on his own, Stiles usually got to stop his mouth mouthing off, but some days even he did not succeed.

Today had been not that kind of bad day, but bad nonetheless. His thoughts still clamoured for attention, but he could keep them at bay for now. Stiles turned on his back, looking at the ceiling still containing some of the stars that Claudia had glued onto the ceiling at Stiles’ behest and wondered what he was doing with his life. Sure, his marks were OK, his social life has not seen any ups lately but no swirlies from Jackson either so that was a plus. Scott would soon come over for games and pizza so he had the friendship thing pat down, so long as he hadn’t forgotten about that too.

Stiles rubbed his hands on the cool sheets that for some unfathomable reason he had changed in the morning, buoyed by a sense of optimistic change coming, most probably because Lydia and Jackson had just broken up, again and it was such a golden opportunity for Stiles to make his move, so long as he can decide for sure what his moves were going to be. Flowers were too tacky for Lydia, chocolate only for applied occasions and Stiles had all those occasion memorised. Anything else had to be vetoed from the long list of stuff that Lydia liked and did not like and even the thought of that seemed too much for Stiles right then.

So he turned on his side this time, and saw a shadowy blur by his window, that was on the first floor and the sun was up enough that shadow that dense and large should not fall anywhere near Stiles window from anything at that moment. Stiles picked up his head from his pillow, his hands wrapped around another one by his chest and by all that was holy and sound, there fucking stood, stood on its fucking hindlegs with the paws on the edge of the window, and Stiles’ homework in its mouth the huge dog that had eaten his brand new finished homework.

The dog gave an unimpressed huff at Stiles, slid its head inside and let the papers fall from its’ definitely slobbery mouth before turning with a jaunty wave from it’s very bushy tail and disappearing. A silent scream left Stiles’ mouth as he got up and hopped to his window, still clutching one pillow in his hand as he peered from this side to the other to find the big fucking dog that had stolen from him and then had returned his shit. Stiles bent down, and yes, it was his homework all right, all crushed and dirty at places, with one perfect paw print on one page.

Wondering if he had hallucinated the whole thing out of a depressive episode, Stiles stared out of his window and turned only after getting mildly startled by a very gruff bark in the distance. It had just not been a good day Stiles attested again as he fell onto his bed.