Introvert

28

'May you be ordinary;
Have, like other women,
An average of talents:
Not ugly, not good-looking,
Nothing uncustomary
To pull you off your balance,
That, unworkable itself,
Stops all the rest from working.
In fact, may you be dull ---
If that is what a skilled,
Vigilant, flexible,
Unemphasised, enthralled
Catching of happiness is called.' ~ Born Yesterday, Philip Larkin

||Shyanna||

I've always tried not to be smug; simply because being smug is unattractive in every way and also because being smug is something hard to do when you spent a year of your life hating every breath that passed your lips. But as I slide into my seat, twenty minutes late to lesson and hopelessly infatuated with the boy who is still howling with laughter as he stumbles through the doorway, I feel smugness wash through me to the tips of my toes. I can't stop the smirk that glides onto my face or the spark in my eyes as he moves past me to sit in his place. I feel completely, absurdly happy. In this moment, right now, I feel beyond happy.

Recklessness is maybe stupid, and daring, but it's also the best thing I've ever done. 

"Born Yesterday by Philip Larkin is a good example of what?" Mather questions, eyes dropping to my face for a moment. I'm relieved to see he isn't angry as all hell. That's a plus. I raise my hand, anyway, just to disspell any wishes for my head to be placed on a platter. 

"A winning of heart using the completely ordinary; melancholic but real and honest." I respond, when he nods to let me know that I can answer.

"Very good, Shyanna! The rest of you need to sharpen your minds, children, for this paragon of wit will surely overtake you!" Mr Mather responds, and I flush with embarrassment. Although he's lovely, really he is, the favoritism shown towards me is more sad than anything. I like to know when I've done something wrong, and constantly praising me and making everyone else feel worse isn't something I ask for.

"Wouldn't be a shock, if I'm being honest," Zayn Malik responds, three feet away from me and aware that I can hear every word, "she's got her foot on the damn pedal." 

I can't help it; I start to laugh. Maybe it's the adrenaline from kissing Niall (kissing Niall!) or maybe it's just because he's funny, but the laughter falls from me anyway. I can't help it. The melody of song that falls from my mouth when I open it to laugh is absurdly loud, and Mr Mather gives me such a scathing look that it just makes me laugh harder. God dammit, everyone's going to hate me. And for the first time, I know that it's alright. I'm not meant to please everyone. I'm not meant to make everyone happy. It's enough to just be. And that's okay.

||Niall||

I feel my heart warm, my fingers defrost, my soul crack into a puddle of goo, when Shyanna begins to giggle. It's just. It's incredible. Because she's so normal. She has problems and she has happy moments and she's daring, and she's compassionate and gentle and rough, as well. The ache in my back from the stair railing says as much. 

Shyanna Rockley is the type of girl people write books about. The kind of person who inspires prose and poetry. The type of girl that Philip Larkin wrote about in Born Yesterday. And I was lucky enough to have her kiss me. The idea that she wanted me, even for one second, enough to shove me against a wall and kiss me, sends shocks to my system. How did I ever get so lucky?

I want to scream about her from the rooftops. I want to dance to songs she sings out of pitch. I want to be the nebula to her crashing bolide. I want to be the sun that cracks over her dawn, and I want to be worth it. I want Shyanna to look at me and think I made the right decision and this is because of me. I want Shyanna Rockley to know that she is so, so worth it. That she is more than beautiful and intelligent. More than grades on paper and poetry, but nothing without them. Shyanna Rockley is a beautiful human for her normalcy's and her eccentricities, and anyone who declares otherwise is wrong.

Anybody who says you cannot be beautiful when you're not good no at art or writing or even reading. You are always worth something. Even if it is only the smile you give when you see blossom on the trees, even if it is only the words you write in your own head that become silly babbling nonsense when written down. You are worth it all. 

And I just wish that Shyanna knew how much she means to me. To Anna and Kristy, to Louis, who's been hurt and abused ever since he came out from every angle just for being who he is. She is worth every moment, and God, as her smile swoops into a cacophonous giggle, I feel my heart sweep onto the rug, too, bouncing and remaining intact. Because nobody is ever truly broken. Because no matter how many times your heart, your soul, your everything, is stamped into the ground and burned alive, it doesn't decrease the value. You'd still want a stepped on penny, wouldn't you? Why not a person?

Why would you ever deny yourself the joy of hearing someone like Shyanna laugh when you could be hearing the way that the melody soars through the air?

Fear isn't worthy of stopping you, and I am so glad that it didn't stop Shyanna from touching me in the way I've been dreaming of for years now. I am so glad that, as I turn my head to glance at her laugh, the only thing in her expression is complete and undiluted joy, and that for the moment, she is completely happy.

And I am overwhelmingly glad.

Niall's so sappy what the hell this was meant to be about Zayn asking why they were both late but instead it was Niall being ABSURDLY sappy [holds hands up in the air]. Sorry for how cloying this chapter was. Geez.

Dedicated to MileToNiall for inspiring me to rediscover Philip Larkin and for being an always supportive darling!! Love you babe!

Don't forget to vote, comment and stalk as you wish! Love you all!

 EDIT: thank you so fucking much for 5k. It means SO much to me, honestly. Thank you! Love you forever!