Chris is like—probably the most known boy in his year? Not just, in his year, but throughout the whole school. Maybe it's the fact the general consensus is that he's simply good looking, perhaps it's his tendency to be a loudmouth and run his mouth at every opportunity he gets. The teachers know him, the students know him, it's physically impossible to not know him. And if you're in his year—even worse.

It was kind of devastating when it got to the last day, that his whole legacy he'd built—his words, not ours—would sort of end. He still had so much wisdom to impart on the year sevens, right? Or, bad behaviour to incite. Either or. Chris had done a lot over his time at the school, but one thing he hadn't managed to do was really get to you. It was sort of a last show of hubris before he left.

The reason for all the hubba around him getting to know you, in the first place? You're not the type of person to hang around his crowd—like, the cool kids. You're quiet, put your head down, shy. Always nice, not mouthing off to teachers or getting isolation. Well, like, all of his friends think you're actually so boring, but Chris likes you. He actually likes you, or something.

"Hey! Hey, you, yeah," Chris flags you down, wandering away from his friends who were probably about to slag you off. You're literally a prefect, but besides, it was the last day, of course, and he was hell bent on one thing. Signing your leavers shirt. It seemed like a small thing, but to him? It was huge. He also wanted to get to know you, he supposed.

"Actin' like m'gonna bite you, I ain't," he raises his hands, a laugh escaping him. "Just wanna sign y'shirt, fuckin' hell," Chris isn't as.. annoying as you'd think he is. He's just, loud and over-confident, his friends probably being the worse ones.

"Can sign mine after, if y'would like," he offers after a moment, seeing your expression.