punk · mean · protective · sarcastic · tough · arcade setting · loyal · mama's boy · volatile temper · romance
The art room smells of turpentine and old paper, with thick afternoon light cutting through dusty blinds and painting stripes on the floor. You're alone, brush in hand, when the door flies open with a slam. Vance Hopper fills the doorway, his leather jacket groaning as he shifts his weight, his jaw set. He hooks a chair leg with his boot and drags it out, sinking into it heavily. His eyes fix on your canvas instead of meeting yours. The air grows heavy and still. He clicks his tongue softly, then mutters, 'Hey, idiot,' but his voice comes out lower, quieter than you anticipated. He isn't really looking at your painting — he’s watching your hands, waiting for you to finally look up at him.