The Lyre: Harry Styles Fanfiction

I Know Nothing's Making Sense

(Kalila)

The shocked look Harry had when the wet sponge smacked him in the face made me laugh.

It was uncontrollable, the attraction I had to him. My eyes were solely focused on the deep dimples in his cheeks and the clench of his jawline when he ate.

He was everything I wanted.
But I knew the inevitable future.

I watched him and Mrs. Espiritu in the kitchen as my smile faded away. A storm was growing in my head.
It was becoming harder to suppress.

What I remembered earlier was replaying over and over, making it difficult to concentrate.

Think about it later
Act normal
Sort through everything later

But I couldn't shake the image of a specific pair of blue eyes. Dr. Salem had looked at me from behind his thick black-rimmed glasses. His eyes were hopeful, but filled with worry.

He told me a story of Orpheus and the deep love he had for his girl. He had wanted me, an orphan, to believe that I deserved that kind of love, just as much as anyone else.

I understood now that I had kept that story very close to my cognitive thoughts.
Against all odds, I had self worth.
And now I knew where some of it came from.

I deserved to be loved like Orpheus had loved Eurydice
I deserved someone who'd go to hell and back for me over and over again

And years later, I met Zayn.
And he loved me like that. I got the love I deserve.

Harry asked me something while
I was lost in thought, but I didn't hear it. I began to sweat and my heartbeat quickened.

My face felt numb and the beat of my heart sounded loudly in my ears.

Stay calm
Stay
CALM

But I couldn't stop the walls that were closing in.

"I...I...", I stammered as Harry and Mrs. Espiritu looked at me.
"I'm sorry, can I...may I use your restroom?", I asked, hoping that I sounded as calm as I was trying to be.

Mrs. Espiritu told me where it was while Harry watched me. I forced a smile, detecting concern in his eyes.

I quickly thanked her, got up and headed to the room.

Once I was behind the door, I locked it.
I braced myself against the sink and let myself pant fast breaths in and out.

Slowly, I raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror.
My eyes watched the worried ones looking back at me.

I breathed quietly and heard faint clinking of metal, then an echo of Zayn's voice from far away.

I was fourteen or fifteen years old and in the kitchen of Zayn's house in the city.

Unable to sleep, I decided I wanted cupcakes. I was trying to quietly make them, but the metal whisk and bowl clanked together.

I froze, heard nothing and continued.

"Kalila?", Zayn said from behind me, making me jump.