safeguard - dream and technoblade

𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚

TECHNO'S POV
I entered the school.

It was like how it always was: rowdy, loud and the noise totally insufferable to the human ear. I didn't get how anybody could have a decent conversation in this irritating, ear-splitting hallway. I slowly walked through the halls, a clearing making its way as people shove and nudge each other to get out of my way. It's a relief they shut up temporarily but the attention was definitely unwanted. I moved along, finding my way to my locker.

It's brimming with letters half-heartedly shoved into the little gaps and I opened my locker. A surprising amount of them have gotten  in and in the array, I recognise a few different kinds.

Some were letters of hopeless confession, foolishly closed with a heart sticker, the occasional, black challenge letter to fight me (it always ended the same so I didn't know why they insisted) and amongst the special few that I actually bothered to look at, I see a familiar green envelope.

Did he want to challenge me again? I took the green letter, letting the rest make their way to the floor as I cleared my locker of the unproductive, vain attempts. I tucked the envelope into my pocket as I grabbed my books for the day. Somebody nudged me, obviously accidentally. Who would want to directly pick a fight with me (excluding 'him' of course)?

I didn't feel particularly inclined to have a look at who but I hear a vague, brisk apology again before they frantically skirted away from the scene; their footsteps frenzied and strangely sporadic and the distasteful mutters of those around judging. The voice of said-so was hard to tell, even without the overriding volume of a high school corridor of course. I ignored it, grabbing the last book for the day. I walked aimlessly for a while, I found myself in my first class- history.

We had been studying strategies used in war and most noticeably, upon my request, would have a brief talk about Sun Tzu, a talented strategist, philosopher and author of the formidable,' The Art of War'. It was an unexpected idol but it had become infamous across the school and apparently, local bookstores have finally started selling some.

Good.

I moved to sit at my allocated seat but instead, I found a lazy figure lounging on my chair. The blond turned around at my footsteps and I gave him no reaction. I didn't give him my usual glare, I was too tired but to be completely honest, I could only pity him now that I knew of his less than ideal condition.

Has he even told his friends? How long has he even known? I sat down in his seat as not to disturb some random bystander and got out my books. I didn't notice too much but he gave me a strange, concerned stare. The people currently present were also staring. I got out my pen.

The class started when Mr Dez came in.

He's a young, motivated, talented individual unlike the rest of the coffee-reliant staff but unfortunately, has had questionable luck with his classes. Including this one; the class was rowdy and still doesn't quieten down when Mr Dez raises his voice. You could visibly see the discomfort in his eyes as he does so, and when he does, I pitied him immensely. He deserved much better than what he was given and tried to make lessons fun, accepting contributions, suggestions and critique warmly.

He also didn't pick on me which is always great. It's always great when you weren't rudely picked for a question and have your anxiety spike to the point where you can't speak. I just click my tongue, hopefully giving off the impression I'm not interested to answer. Because of this, I have a notorious reputation for being particularly rude to adamant teachers but that wasn't so important at the moment. What was, was that right now, I was getting rather pissed. It was getting loud, too loud. I'm tempted to shout but somebody else does it for me.