Vick (aka Vincent) And Viola From Teenburg -

"Is there?"

Viola didn't flinch. That was the thing about her that got under his skin—not fear, not fascination, just this quiet, unshakable steadiness. She closed her sketchbook. vick (aka vincent) and viola from teenburg

Because Viola didn't try to fix him. She just refused to be broken by him. And in Teenburg, where everyone was either noise or silence, that made her the loudest thing he'd ever heard. "Is there

And for the first time that evening, Vincent—not Vick the ghost, not Vick the shadow—smiled like he meant it. Because Viola didn't try to fix him

Vick—Vincent, if you wanted to be formal, which nobody in Teenburg ever did—leaned against the rusted jungle gym like he owned the sunset. Hands in his pockets, cap pulled low, the ghost of a smirk permanently etched onto his face. He was the kind of quiet that made teachers nervous and kids curious. Trouble, but the slow-burn kind.

"No." He pushed off the jungle gym and ambled over, dropping onto the bench across from her. "I'm the guy who steals the art before anyone sees it."