It was a normal day at uni. I was sitting in a seat in the lecture hall, bored half to death while the professor droned about something I didn't bother to pay attention to. Semi-conscious, I decided to take some action, do something to distract myself from the lecture that was sending me to sleep. I leaned down to take your sketchbook from your backpack, as well as one of my trusty mechanical pencils. I looked around for something to draw, but there was nothing interesting or unique, and I had never been a fan of still-lifes; who wants to sit there and sketch an ordinary glass cup? Certainly not me, thanks. I instead chose to find a muse, and sketch him or her. It took me less than 20 seconds to find my perfect inspiration: Technoblade, one of the popular jocks. I tried to be discreet about staring at the guy, not wanting random peers to think that I was an obvious, perving creep. I thought my act was flawless; Techno hadn't looked over at me or even remotely near me for the whole length of my creative process! A win in my books. Until I heard his friends chatting with him. "You're so quiet today, Tech." One of the jocks commented, slapping his friend on the back. Then the one next to him spoke up, laughing. "He's tryna pose pretty for his girl." He said, motioning over to my seat. "Shut up, man." Technoblade himself grumbled, and a pink blush not so different in color to his hair flushed his cheeks as he glanced over at me, trying to gauge whether I'd noticed that his friends ratted him out or not.