There were a million and one things on his mind at any given time, but it had been particularly difficult to concentrate on anything at all today outside of simply making it through each class and then his after school activities before he could go home and face plant into his pillow. Stiles had only managed a very brief checkin session with one of the students he'd offered to tutor before he'd had to go to get ready for practice, and Coach was so wound up about upcoming try outs that he'd made it a double practice; Stiles just wasn’t built for this kind of abuse — sure, he was lean where a lot of his peers had more muscle and therefore not entirely out of shape, but still. It was the principle of the thing.
Most of the team had gone home immediately following the end of practice, opting out of a quick shower and preferring to just leave, so Stiles was one of the few that had stayed behind to rinse himself off before heading out. The locker room had been unusually quiet, most of the guys dipping in the water and then out, more of a courtesy rinse than anything that could actually help wash the stink away. Stiles couldn't help but linger under the warm water, allowing it to relax his tense muscles and even helping to clear his head. He'd lost track of time as he stood there with his forehead pressed to the tile, shoulders slumped in relief as the stress of the day swirled down the drain with his sweat from earlier.
Turning the water off, he reached for the towel he'd brought with him, drying quickly and changing into a fresh pair of clothes he always carried on Lacrosse days. There was nothing but the sound of an occasional drip of water to keep him company as he gathered his things, feeling slightly unnerved the longer the silence stretched out - he wasn't used to being alone in the locker room, much less being in the school so late. Stiles did a quick double check of his belongings as he slid his backpack onto his shoulder, free hand running over the top of his head to further tousle his wet hair.
That's when he heard it. A scream.
Stiles had seen more than enough horror movies to know that he should be running in the opposite direction of where he'd heard the scream come from, but he'd also thought he had been entirely alone, so if someone else was here and needed help — well, he couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves, could he? His father would be disappointed if he had.
A few more turns and Stiles was sprinting into the main hallway, heart beating wildly as he paused a moment to catch his breath. Whatever it was he'd been expecting to see just then, it certainly wasn't Derek Hale. Dropping his backpack on the floor, he hovered uncertainly, trying to decide if it really was worth getting involved or not; he didn't exactly know Derek very well. Hold up - was he? "Are you-- are you bleeding?!" Yeah, today was hell.