INCENDIARY | ✓

in my veins | andrew belle

PRESENT DAY 

"No no, not again-" I clenched my hands into fists, breathing in pants and shudders. A suppressed noise escaped my mouth and my teeth involuntarily bit into my lips, drawing blood. "C'mon, breathe Arwn, fucking breathe." 

The pressure in my lungs was too much and I clawed at my chest. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. 

I squatted against the wall, my fists rubbing stars into my burning eyes. I felt tears streaming down my face, burning a path as they dripped down my cheeks. This panic attack was a long time coming. I knew it was going to attack, jut didn't realize when. 

It was a waft of someone's cologne. Earlier in the day, l walked past someone who had Harvey's cologne on and froze. The panic attack didn't happen until after I was home, surrounded by the essence that was Harvey. They came all the time immediately after his death, but became infrequent as time went on. This one was unexpected. 

I thought I had moved past little things reminding me of him, but evidently I hadn't. The anniversary of Harvey's death was approaching and my body was on overdrive, alert. I don't know how long I was on the ground, rocking myself back and forth. My limbs felt like jelly and I felt drained.

To think my high school love affected me, so unhealthily, to this extent, even six years later. 

. . . 

I was dusting when I accidentally knocked over one of his pieces. The clattering jolted me out of my methodical dusting and I gently picked up the canvas to inspect the damage. There was none and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Harvey's drawings were the only things I had that connected me to him and I took extreme care of them. This particular piece was especially endearing because it was an outline of me laughing and Harvey looking at me with warmth radiating from him. The reference picture Harvey used was taped on the back and I lightly traced his smile. 

God, I missed him. 

Shaking myself out of nostalgia and old memories, I placed the canvas back on the hook it was hung from and turned around. Something fell onto the ground and I paused. 

Looking over my shoulder, I scrutinized the area. Nothing was out of the ordina–– wait.

There was a folded piece of paper on the ground and I narrowed my eyes, picking it up. Unfolding it, I let out a gasp. The scrawly handwriting was as familiar to me as my own, and my eyes began watering. 

entry 5: babe, wait no, Arwen, yeah much better. ur probably gonna read this never so i'm just gonna write out what l was too much of a fucking pussy to say out loud. this piece is for u babe, and it's me and u in our happiest state. wish I was able to make u happier, but fuck it, the little time I spent with u was worth all the shit that went down. I'd walk through hell again in a heartbeat if it meant I was with u. I love you so fucking much that I feel it inside my fucking bones. my doctor says to not lose this feeling and babe, it aint ever going away. ur my reason to live in this pathetic ass world. I just wish th–

The paper was ripped here and my hands shook so hard I couldn't hold on to it. What on earth was this? This was Harvey's handwriting, I was sure of it. But this, this was something I never, in my life, expected to find. This was too cliched, too hollywood, too uh-Harvey, but this was something he would've done.