INCENDIARY | ✓

boy | 78violet

"Did you see what Meade did last night?!" 

"Jumped in front of a cop and a black boy and shouted her way out of the situation."

"Goddamn, whatta beast." 

"Harvey McDermott and Arwen Meade are a thing now."

"They are so cute together!"

"Goddamn, McDermott bagged that ass?!"

"I knew it!"

People talked, but I ignored them. My relationship with McDermott was simply put, only our business. Others could go fuck off.

I didn't love him, but something was there. My mistake was probably not telling him the moment I was confident in my feelings. For God's sake, I was seventeen; I didn't know what love was! My father didn't love me enough to stay in my life nor did my mother, what did I know?

Was love the feeling I got every time I saw him smile? Was love the sensation of falling I got in my stomach whenever I saw his silver eyes? Was that love, the physical features of McDermott? Or was it the feeling I got every time he would worry when I became sad?

Was it the feeling I got every time he would walk slightly ahead of me, but still beside me, as if to shield me from the horrors of the world? Was love the safe and sound feeling I got from being around someone as dangerous as McDermott, or was I just in love with the idea of love?

I didn't know what love was, and my mistake was over analyzing every thing I felt.

I was unintentionally pushing him away, but his parents arguing every night pushed him back to me. I knew his feelings for me were as strong as my feelings for him.

But for God's sake, we were teenagers. What did we know about love? He would open his mouth to tell me how he felt, to cement in our affections for each other.

I didn't know how to deal with this change. So I did what I knew best.

I pushed him away on purpose.

. . .

Our happiness last a total of three months.

Although my interactions with McDermott were more comfortable than before, I could tell there was something up with him. He became withdrawn and a shell of a person.

I was still pushing him away.

When I called him out on it, he'd deviate the question or ignore me all together.

"McDermott, we need to talk." I snarled at him when he blatantly ignored me as I walked past him in the hallway.

Pulling him into an empty corridor famous for it's usage amongst the senior class, I knew the implications of walking out together. I didn't care.

"What's going on with you?" I briskly asked him, my voice cold.

"Fuck that, Wen," he rasped. "The hell's goin on with you?"

"Nothing."

"For fuck's sake," he snorted. "I know you better than that, Arwen, don't you dare close up on me."

"This isn't about me," I shrilly retaliated. "It's about you!"

"I'm not doing anything!" He looked bewildered. "I'm doing what you're doing! I'm giving you space! It's obvious you have some shit to deal with, so I'm letting you," he muttered and my heart cracked.