Introvert

7

'I fell in love with the way your smile lit up like the sun when you encountered something you loved.' ~Unknown

||Shyanna||

I'm late when I arrive. Too late, and although time is a construction of human kind, I know that the school will still get annoyed at me. It's with timid steps that I climb up the final steps towards Philosophy, shuddering. My sobs have left me, heart pounding in my chest. I'm a nervous wreck, a hopeless mess of a once broken girl. I reach the Philosophy room with  shaking hands, trying to force bile to stay down. I can puke later. I can write poetry later. I can do anything later, but right now I need to get inside.

"Sorry I'm late, Sir, I-" I begin, but sir just smiles at me softly, giving a small nod. One of his arms raises and points towards my table, and I shuffle there fast, ignoring the glances people give me.

I take everything I need out of my bag fast, so as not to annoy sir for being even worse than my lateness implies. And suddenly all eyes are on me, because apparently when you least want someone's eyes on you, they are on you. Kristy and Anna are the only ones not focusing on me, the only ones who know how much a crowd staring at me terrifies me. Even so, I can see they want to. Want to ask why again and again. Why was I late when I am never late?

It's like my world comes crashing down in that moment, as Mr Garrick stops teaching to stare, too, even though he'd gone back to teaching about life and happiness after I'd come in. Everyone minus Anna and Kristy is staring. So many eyes. So many stories. I still my shaking hands as I place my book on the table. It's dog-eared for references, spine battered and cracked and creased from two years of reading and re-reading.

The weight of their gazes is infinite, crushing my chest into a hollow, making my breath come in sharp gasps. The thing is, I've had panic syndrome for years. I have panic attacks so often that I know instantly what this is. The dry mouth, the darkness around the edges of my vision, aching chest, the churning stomach and the shaking. It's too much too fast and I can't deal with it. My breath is so shallow, now, and my eyes are only making out a pin prick of things, tunneled down until I see almost nothing.

I'm terrified, so scared I can feel heat rising through my body. I'm going to collapse if I can't get this under hold. I'm going to die. I'm gonna die. Die. I will die. Numbness spreads through my fingertips next, and I choke out a 'Bathroom, sir. Please?' and he stops staring. He nods quickly, looking alarmed. The kids are still staring. 

No, no, no. Please, God, no.

I've always been so good at controlling panic attacks. I've always been so good at making myself the happiest I can. On the days I can't, everything seems darker. The colours blur, the dark overtakes the glow, and I become a shell of nothing. On those days, Anna and Kristy are the only ones who make me feel better. Those two, outside of my mum, are the only people who understand the panic attacks. So they are the ones that follow me out, not even asking.

I drop to the floor so fast I feel my head spin. So dark. I'm losing it. I'm losing it.

"Baby, no. It's okay. Everything's fine. You're okay, babe. You're fine. Shhh, breathe. Breathe in, breathe out." Kristy says, wrapping her arms around me tightly. The fact she knows exactly where to place her arms reminds me how pathetic I am; she has done this far too often. I am pathetic, and I am awful, and why didn't I die two years ago why am I still alive?

"Shy, it's okay. I don't know what's bothering you but it'll work itself out..." Anna whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

Slowly but surely, my panic attack calms down, and soon I'm just shaking in the arms of my two favourite people and wondering when I'll die.

||Niall||

Shyanna comes back twenty minutes later, trembling down to her bones and cheeks tracked with tears. She looks beautiful, broken and awful but still stunning. I don't stare this time, because last time she ran outside. I swallow, though, blinking back bile at the thought of someone having hurt her.

"Is she okay, d'ya reckon?" Lou asks, giving a worried glance towards her, Anna and Kristy talking to the teacher as she shakily sits down. I give Louis an unamused glance, because of fucking course she's not alright you snail boob.

"No, Lou, I don't." I mutter, and then realise how vicious that sounded and wince. "Sorry." Lou just gives me a small smile.

I stare down at the bit of paper I've written on. We're supposed to have written theories on human happiness, how to be happy, how to remain happy, and so far the only good thing written down is surround yourself with colour and ignore the greys. To be honest, it's a pretty nice thing to write, but mostly it's untruthful and wrong.

I'm pretty sure Shyanna would be against the idea, ac tually.

"Harry said that Shyanna would be really stunning in a dress," Louis inputs, a fond expression on his face as I have to swallow a breath. 

The thought of Shyanna in a dress is enough to make my throat tighten. She's gorgeous, always, in her bootleg jeans and flowing, hippie shirts. Just enough makeup to cover tired creases. But now Louis' gone and made me think of Shyanna in a dress; a gorgeous white dress that flows to the floor. Fuck, I'm mental. I shouldn't be thinking of Shyanna in a wedding dress when she seems so vulnerable.

"She looks great anyway," I mumble. Louis giggles (must be a gay thing) and nods.

"There are other people who look great in this school, too." Louis says, before gesturing to himself with a smirk. I roll my eyes. 

"Why'd you bring the dress thing up, anyway?" I ask after a minute of comfortable silence. He blinks once, twice, three times before responding.

"Because you're sad about her being sad, and whilst your heterosexuality is hilariously endearing, sadness ain't." I snort at him, because not only does he makes everything about the fact I'm straight, but because it's true.

Let's be honest, though, Shyanna is beautiful. Not just outwardly, but inwardly. Her soul is the brightest sun in our world, gorgeous in it's simplicity. She is not complicated, she is not awful. Shyanna is stunning, a ray of sunshine where before there was bitter darkness. Her light brings everyone hope, her smile brings everything life. And I can't help but think if happiness came in people, pure and undiluted, it would come in the form of Shyanna Rockley. For while she is broken, she is not irreparable. I know that if I were a wound, the only thing that would heal me would be her gracious personality. So, yes, it rains all the time and the sun stops shining. But sometimes all the rain brings us strength, makes things grow. In terms of nature, Shyanna is a blossom. She grows towards sunlight, and she grows from herself, because she is a star. A beautiful, glowing star that burns and burns but never fades. Because Shyanna Rockley is strong, and I am in love with her.

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