Introvert

13

'“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” 

― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

||Shyanna||

I huff as I walk towards the group, breathing through my mouth and ignoring the flying hairs. I am powerful, so powerful, from being around such strong girls. They pushed me, told me to walk, and now I am walking. Towards Niall. Because I need to talk to him. I need to know why he blushed when I talked to him. And I want to ask him if he knows why I'd be blushing. I live in fear too often. Kristy and Anna have taught me not to care.

"Hi, Niall." I say, looking him in the eyes as I stop outside of their circle. Harry and Louis are smothering each other, so close it seems silly. But I won't judge them. I was just in a dogpile made up of two of my best friends and I.

"S-shyanna." He whispers, almost reverent. I blink. 

"Wanna talk?" The people around him all give little looks of knowing when he whines high in his throat. I can sympathize. I hate getting up, too. The sound is almost endearing, and I give him a sweet smile to intrigue him. I've been told being volatile puts people off.

"Um. Of course. Yeah. Give me a sec'?" He asks, looking breathless and confused, all at once. I shrug, turning and walking away, heart pounding in my chest. I asked him, now he just needs to get up. 

I stand pressed against a tree, arms bent backwards, fingers locking around the branch, eyes closed. The sound of birds chirping, people screaming, laughing, arguing. It all makes my chest flutter with this odd emotion. I am alive, I think, I am an enigma, a puzzle, and I am just about to get another piece to fit myself a bit together. I deserve it, I think. I deserve to get what I want. I deserve happiness. Darkness does not suit me. I am not fixed, no where near. But right now, in the knowledge that Kristy and Anna are being honest with me, and that they know they are accepted, I feel like I am. I feel invincible. Which is maybe the reason when I hear a throat being cleared, I only smirk a little and crack one eye open. 

"Hi." I say, leaning forwards and blinking blearily at him. "Why did you blush when we talked yesterday?" And if I expected an eloquent answer, I am mistaken. His face pales, his eyes go wide, and he twitches. Okay. 

"U-um. I-I. N-no. No. R-reason?" He flushes, biting into his lip and I cock my head to the side.

"You're nervous," I state, Captain Obvious until the end.

"A bit." He admits, whispering like it's a secret, when no one is even close enough to hear us speak.

"You always bite your lip when you're nervous." I state, and he blinks, hard. He shifts a bit, and a smile breaks onto his face, as if my obviousness is a source of great happiness for him.

"You always chew your nails when you're nervous." Niall responds, and I giggle gently. His eyes go wide, again, as if I've shocked electricity into his veins. And I thought I was odd, Jesus.

"Better than moaning about it." I shrug, giving a dainty half-smile. He blinks, red chasing to his cheeks, lips sucked into his mouth. I wonder, absurdly, if his mouth is warm. He spends a lot of time biting his lips, did it way back in Year Seven, when I had a crush on him. The thought of that year gives me chills. That was the year my dad upped sticks, walked out forever. And all because I found out he hit my mother. I blocked that year out so well, but Niall makes it come flooding back. Because now all I can see, and feel, is his warm, warm body as he writes down words I taught him. All I can think about is the day I came to school broken-hearted, the way his eyes had looked so worried I thought he was going to cry. It was the first time I ever thought about holding his hand.

"Why did I stutter when we talked yesterday?" I ask, giving him a quizzical look, because I want to know if he has any idea why. He stares, as if I've just asked him to bring Hitler back to life. He stares the way he did when I broke that person's nose for saying girls were worse than men at everything.  

"I don't know," he says, reaching weakly up to scrub at his neck, "um. Maybe because we haven't talked properly for years?" He asks, cautious, like I'm irreparably broken. 

"Hmm." I ponder, wondering if it would be weird to kiss him on the cheek. Probably. "I don't think that was why. I think it was more because nobody pays much attention to me, really. And everyone pays attention to you." I mumble, suddenly bashful. I am the weird girl who cares more about poetry than human contact, who has to lock herself in her room until she ignores the need to scratch into skin. I am the girl who fell for a guy she could never get, way back before I knew what darkness was in such detail.

"I pay attention to you. Especially when you're happy."

"Oh." I whisper, meeting bright blue eyes.

"Um. I mean. Not creepily? Just sometimes, I catch you like. You're so happy you could burst. It's nice. Different." Different from the times I walked into school with my arms cut up and tears staining my cheeks, you mean. Different from the girl who ignored everyone. Different from the girl who discovered what heartbreak was in unfair detail.

"You smile a lot, too. Sometimes, I think you must be faking it. I think it has to be a facade, because you can't be that happy all the time. You have to have secrets, Niall. It's safer for everyone to hide a bit of yourself." I state, and I'm not joking. I have hidden from myself and from others so much that lies and deceit, sometimes, seem the only way forward.

"I am happy. And I do have secrets, but I am happy. I do, honestly, have secrets. But. You don't have to hide who you are when you're capable of putting out lies. You can lie, Shyanna, but sometimes, the lies become the truth." He whispers, secretive and darlingly small. In this moment, right now, with Niall Horan whispering to me like I am gold and he is only bronze, I know that I love him. I know that I loved him years ago, and I love him now, when he has seen me at all kinds of brokenness. And I have to stop it, because God knows Niall deserves better than the quiet girl who used to write poetry about a boy she could never get. I have to fall out of love. And I need to find a way to help that along.

||Niall||

I need her, in this moment. I need to hold her and kiss her and tell her it's okay, because whilst Shyanna is the deepest sea I've ever discovered, I want to be her ship. I want to be her sails in the wind to make sure she keeps going, and I want her to feel like she deserves it. And I know, in this moment, I need to find a way to prove to her she is perfect and wonderful, even with her flaws. I need to remind her she is beautiful, and I know just the person to help me. So as Shyanna smiles graciously as the bell rings for third lesson, I am not thinking I lost a chance. I am thinking I found one.