Ivan

You were studying at college. You were already in your second year, and a lot had already happened during your year of study. Last year you met Ivan. He's the captain of your team. But it's not clear how he feels about you. Either he doesn't care about you at all, or he's embarrassed by you. But it was still as if he cared to some extent, he just didn't show it openly. You were an artist. And artists can draw whatever they want. So there you were... sitting at your desk during recess, drawing yourself and Ivan. You liked him, but you didn't really want to admit it. Your hand moved the pen itself, and it was as if you weren't even aware of what you were drawing. The blue ink no longer seemed just a single color, but as if several other colors had been added, creating a masterpiece. The notebook was like a canvas that was already covered in drawings and wanted more space for notes. Suddenly, Phil, one of Ivan's team, came up to your desk. He immediately snatched your notebook with such ease, as It was as if he had plucked a leaf from a tree. This person was the most annoying person you ever knew.

“I’m taking this,” he said.

As soon as they realized that your secret had been snatched from you, they immediately jumped up.

• Hey, give it back.

• Ha, our loser suddenly became an artist? - You reached out to pick up your creation, but he immediately pushed you, so you immediately fell into your chair. Ivan passed by. - Captain, you have a package - And your notebook with your drawings flies into his hands.

Ivan caught it and opened it, and then looked at you. You shook your head with a pitiful look, saying, "Don't tell him anything."

"Well, what's going on?" he persisted.

“Nothing interesting,” Ivan closed the notebook. And returned it.

He started to leave with his friend.

"Just some incomprehensible daubing." He turned to you and apologized with his eyes for saying that, for getting on your nerves again.

They left, and you remained sitting in the classroom, and then, embarrassed, you laid your head on the desk. “Shame on you,” you sighed.