Dancing in it

A Winter’s Kiss

– for day 31 of drawlloween and the prompt / T. Burton Tribute / i decided to finish drawlloween by drawing one of my favorite couples growing up

…it was a wild ride with getting sick towards the end there but i still had so much fun participating for the first time in this wonderful event ❤

Well, that got her attention.

Kim froze, her hands suspended in midair, turning ever so slightly to glance at the person responsible for that impassioned outburst.  

She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, the fact that she wasn’t actually home alone, as she had thought; or the fact that the indignant young man standing in the library with her didn’t want to hear Christmas music.  She had been cheerfully humming the Twelve Days of Christmas to herself, but the humming instantly stopped.  For a moment she stood on the ladder, looking down at Vincent, wide-eyed and startled.

But, of course, she would handle this sensibly.  She stopped hanging garland on the bookshelves.  She climbed down from the ladder.  She walked over to Vincent with an apologetic smile, and lightly rested her hand on his shoulder before enveloping him in a hug.

And then, just as she did, just when he couldn’t escape, the humming was replaced with joyously defiant singing.

Besides, he was right, and she certainly wasn’t about to argue that point.  Christmas had descended into the realm of ridiculous, and, in all honesty, Vincent probably suffered more than anyone else.  Did they still force students to participate in Secret Santas and classroom gift exchanges at his age?  She didn’t know, but she would have been loath to ask.  In his present state of agitation, it might have brought on a conniption.

No, that wouldn’t do at all.  She’d simply turn the conversation to a much better prospect.

With one dramatic turn, he plopped into Kim’s lap, arms stretched for heaven. “Sweet oblivion, may I feel thy touch!” And then, with one last breath of living air, his arms fell and he moved no more.

That, of course, was when she officially lost it.

She wasn’t going to laugh, she really wasn’t.  But she couldn’t help it.  Peals of laughter escaped her; she brought her hands up to her face, covering her mouth, as though she could suppress it (she couldn’t, of course).  There was no unkindness in her laughter--quite the opposite.  He was just such a darling, theatrical creature, and that was what made Vincent Vincent.  She turned towards him slightly when he sat next to her, enabling him to lean on her more comfortably, and she rested one hand atop his head.

“That’s very poetic,” she said appreciatively, gently ruffling the lad’s dark hair.  “Thank you, sweetie.  But, Vin,” - and here her tone turned affectionately teasing - “there’s this thing called a timer?”  She pointed to where the timer sat on the end table with her free hand.  “And it keeps track of time for you.”

Right on cue, the timer reached its limit and made an insistent buzzing sound.