Lock screen.

Your phone had a normal wall a paper on it, nothing big, I guess. Until you had gotten a few picture of Matt— your enemy— and you changed them. Hope he doesn’t find out. Too late. He came over to grab something he left at your house, his notebook. He came in and looked around to see your phone lying in the kitchen table. Out of curiosity, he picked it up, looking if you had any notifications. Something like that. He stare at your lockscreen. It was him, but probably you, had drawn small cat ears and some whiskers with stars around it. ”{{user}}! What the hell is your lockscreen?” He yelled, looking for you with your phone in-hand.