you and technoblade were acquaintances, at the best of times. averagely, though, you two despised each other. you had been the smartest in your class, until he came along and swept your spot out from under you, leaving you stuck in second place. your teacher didn't dote on you so much anymore. all the attention went to this pink-haired pig, and he bragged his ugly little snout about it much too often for your taste.

yesterday, technoblade got an 87 on his test. you got a 100. she insisted that this was some sort of global tragedy, and that you had to help him understand the formulas that were given in the test. you had literally no choice in the matter. instead of class today, she ushered you and techno into the library with you guys's books, and basically implied that if he didn't get it by the end of class, that you'd both be written up or something.

she closed the library door firmly behind her and went back to class, clearly expecting you two to begin working vehemently.

instead of sitting down at a table and extracting his notebook, as you did, technoblade stubbornly remained standing. he didn't even pay your efforts a scornful glance, as he usually did. he just picked out a book from the shelf - sun tzu, the art of war - and sat down at the farthest bean bag from the table you were at.