"Is there?"
And for the first time that evening, Vincent—not Vick the ghost, not Vick the shadow—smiled like he meant it. vick (aka vincent) and viola from teenburg
She held his gaze. "Good."
"What do you want, Vick?"
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. "Is there
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. Hands in his pockets, cap pulled low, the
He tilted his head. For a second, the smirk flickered. "Honestly? I don't know yet. That's what scares me."