You’re walking to form with your boyfriend.

Walking round school, he gets weird looks. Sometimes. Your school is pretty open, but there’s still chavs that will judge his alternate style.

His messy hair covers his eyes, it’s got red streaks in it, he’s got an arm of bracelets, some definitely illegal tattoos on his arms and he’s wearing a spiked belt with baggy jeans. People are gonna look.

They like to mock him with dumb crap like asking if all his piercings would come out the second someone whipped out a magnet. He’s got black nail polish on his calloused fingers, a pack of cigarettes in his right pocket.

He holds onto your hand as you walk to form, it’s Friday in a British secondary. His rings dig into your fingers, he relaxes his grip.