Smokey breath.

Vincent Ostin. Tall, well-built, handsome.

The new boy.

Tousled, curly brown hair and startling green eyes.

Drool-worthy.

He was sitting on the back of the back, feet on the seat of it, leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, very casually smoking.

Vally wouldn't admit it, but she was too hot. She was wearing black - corset, short skirt, red and black striped tights, black coat and black choker. Thigh-high leather boots, her hair falling across her face. Black lipsticks, white background, black mascara and eyeliner.

Typical Goth girl. Typically beautiful.

Vincent was wearing a dark grey-charcoal to be precise-hoody with faded black jeans and a studded belt, his vans were black and white chequered. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal he had on ribbons from festivals in the summer that hadn't fallen off yet and on one of his wrists going up his arms was some swirly writing that said; I'd rather be hated for hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.

A quote. Kurt Cobain.

He inhaled the smoke and closed his eyes.

Vally dipped a hand into her pocket, pulling out her special roll. She lit it, and inhaled it.

"Oh F*ck it." Vincent groaned, standing up and getting his phone out of his pocket. He had a very English voice. Not too posh, but still very English.

Vally looked over, raising a pierced eyebrow.

Vincent answered it. "What?" There was a pause in which Vincent looked impatient. "No, I f*cking told you to lay off, you f8cking stalker!"

Vally looked away. Oh, he was one of those types. Popular kid. Total opposite.

Still though, he liked Kurt Cobain.

Vincent growled, putting down the phone. "F*cking wanker." he growled, slouching into the bench.

Vally blew out a smoke ring. A halo, she thought suddenly. It reminded her of an Evans Blue song.

Vincent sighed. "F*cking preps..." he spat the words out. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to calm himself down.

Vally noticed something over by the prep-hater. She walked over, picking it up and inhaling another hit.

It was a dogcollar. A nice one.

Vincent opened one eyes to examine the person nearby and the other opened. Mmm....hot.

Vally curled her hair around one hand, putting on the collar below her choker and doing it up. It was dark red and spiked. Brilliant.

Then she exhaled another halo of smoke.

"You know...that collar could have been anywhere..." Vincent called out.

"Why do you care?" she asked, inhaling another hit. Aah. The good stuff.

Vincent smiled his gorgeous, lop-sided, dimpled smile. "I don't."

She blinked at him, blowing a ring into his face.

"Why bring it up?"

"My sister picked up a cat collar once. Gave her a rash," Vincent shrugged.

Vally shrugged in return, mimicking his expression and taking another drag.

Vincent stamped out his cigarette, pulling up his hood as the wind picked up.

Vally cupped a hand around her joint to keep the wind from blowing it out.

Vincent sighed. "What year are you in?"

"What year are you in?" she replied, using the same inflections.

Vincent's eyes went up to her face. "I'm guessing you're in one of the lower years."