I'll be honest, I haven't written in a good long while, but I really want to start and finish this project.

I've never been so determined to complete a project than I am now. Usually, I start off strong, get burned out by the time I'm halfway done with a book, and then I just give up and never visit the project again.

A great work ethic, I know.

But, man. I frickin' love this story. I have to tell it. I want to so, so bad.

So then, why don't I? Well, the determination is there, but once I start, I just get so tired, like all the energy's been sucked out of me.

As a writer, I'm out of shape.

So you know what I'm gonna do?

I'M GONNA PRACTICE TO GET BACK IN SHAPE! HECK YEAH!

Enjoy this little bit. It's Vincent and Walter. They're so, so similar but so different at the same time. Like, two sides of a weird coin.

It's okay for me to write this dynamic since they won't be interacting at all this season. That way, there's no spoilers. :)))))))

Love, your absolutely demented author, who is slowly going insane.

~●~

"You know what my favorite thing about this painting is?"

Walter cocked his head to one side, studying the portrait on the wall in front of him. He reached out and ran his fingers over the vivid colors and the blotches of paint. A small smile spread across his face. He locked eyes with the striking green ones from the portrait.

"How imperfect it is," Walter finally whispered. He rubbed his thumb against the artist's signature. "It feels vert human, you know? Very authentic."

Vincent stood at the other end of the room, holding back a grin. His hand covered his mouth so as to not appear amused. He wanted to keep the mysterious aura to his personality for a little while longer.

"I mean, this guy, Van Gogh, he seemed pretty human, you know? As far as humans go." Walter looked back at the man leaning back against the wall, all the way across the room. The afternoon light cast itself through the shutters in little horizontal lines all across Vincent. He looked like he had stripes of light running across his skin.

"I've read some biographies. You have too, haven't you? You know, his life. Such a melancholy life. And yet..." Walter sighed, turning away from Vincent and towards the windows.

"Look at me, getting all methodical. That..." he giggled. He didn't even finish his thought. He just laughed for a bit, a little fit of giggles. "That's not me!"

Vincent couldn't stay still any longer. This little chatterbox weirdo had won him over. Enough with the mystery, he was finally gonna hear this guy out.

"Oh, I've cracked the walnut!" Walter exclaimed when he noticed Vincent striding towards him. "I was told you were extroverted. Would've never guessed, ya wallflower."

Vincent gave a light chuckle, going in to give Walter a little squeeze on the shoulder. He patted Walter on the back before turning to the window. "Thanks, man," Walter took Vincent's affection graciously.

"Vincent's a nice name, you know that?"

"Thanks." Vincent said, confidently. And this time, he didn't waver.