Archive of Our Own ^beta

They're not together. Not really at least.

A few weeks ago she finally worked up the courage to confess her feelings after having annoyed Ray to a point where he probably wanted to do nothing but tape her mouth shut and shoot her straight in the head, talking about nothing but Frank and how insane this relentless crush was driving her. 

Every second word that left her mouth had something to do with him, and frankly it was pissing off everyone, including herself. It was nothing short of pathetic.

So, despite everything inside of her fighting tooth and nail against it, on a still warm Monday afternoon in September after school she picked up her phone, and drafted a text. She knew it was for the best. She couldn’t continue like this.

In the end it took her three hours, two rounds of hyperventilation, and one count of vomiting to get it right. Not too desperate, not too sober. Just right enough that it would get the point across, but she'd still be able to somewhat smoothly recover from it if he didn't feel the same way. 

But of course he did. Deep down she knew he would, just like Ray kept telling her over and over again while he hit her over the head with rolled up sheet music, but the doubt was still gripping her throat with its icy fingers, squeezing, cutting off her airflow until Frank's answering sms trickled through. And even then just a little longer still.

But for a millisecond there was blessed quiet. She had won over her fears, and she had won the cute boy that plays guitar in a band with his friends and screams filthy lyrics into a microphone in his free time. 

And then the second wave of doubt hit. 

See, Illi McMillin is a sensitive girl.

Less than ideal mental and physical health will do that to you. She's crippled, she's weird, she can't read people, she says the wrong things at the wrong times, she doesn't know how to handle feelings. 

And she has a lot of those for Frank. 

It's an overwhelming, nauseating hellscape that makes her want to hide away like a dying animal disappearing into the crawlspace to slowly rot away. She wants absolutely nothing to do with it, while simultaneously craving the feeling like it's a designer drug, created specially for her body to get addicted to. It's the sweetest sensation coursing through her veins like hot caramel, setting her entire body aflame from the inside out. Maybe Edward Cullen and his cringe dialogue were right about love. Own personal brand of heroin and all that. 

So yeah, Frank is on her mind a lot. 

About two months ago he just showed up in their classroom. One random morning he was walked in by the principal, was maneuvered to stand in front of the blackboard while he looked like he'd much rather be anywhere else, and was made to introduce himself. 

Frank Iero was his name. His family moved to town a few months back, and he started out at the public school before his parents transfered him over because they felt like it wasn't a fitting place for him. Too unsafe or something. Which the fading black eye he was sporting at the time just underlined. 

He was instructed to sit in the free spot beside Illi, and after falling into a very natural chatter they realised just how many shared interests they had. A friendship was born quickly, and very soon pesky little thoughts started popping up in Illi's head. Feelings she tried but failed to push down, to muffle, and later to suffocate. Nothing worked and the sweet anxiety just kept growing.

Not only was he incredibly cute, no he also had the most twisted, beautiful mind she had ever had the pleasure to meet. The things he said, the way he thought, how soft he acted around her, but still not afraid of breaking her. Everything about him was perfect. 

Her stomach started doing that stupid nauseating swooping thing whenever he texted her, or smiled at her, or simply existed in her vicinity. 

She knew she was fucked. Truely and deeply fucked. Which is why she eventually gave in and send that text, which got her the confirmation that her feelings were reciprocated by Frank.

They decided to take some time to get to know each other better. A mutual understanding to not rush into things too quickly in fear of ruining this fragile little something that was blooming between them. 

Which is how Illi ended up where she is right now. In her bed, twisted up in her comforter, leaving wet mascara stains on her pillow that her dad will undoubtably scold her for later, because 'it's always such a hassle to wash out again'. 

It's not the fact that they're taking it slow. She doesn't mind, she actually appreciates it. It's good to have time. But the uncertainty of it all is what caused the problems.

Ray and her little brother Mikey are sitting on her bedroom floor between dirty dishes, art supplies, and clothes, and honestly she isn't sure if she wants them here or would rather have them gone. Ray's big hand in her hair, caressing her scalp is kind of nice. Mikey’s arguing less so. 

"No you don't understand. Sure, he keeps telling me how in awe of me he is and that he wouldn't have me any other way." She hiccups and halfheartedly wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "But give it a few months and that will change, trust me. He loves going out. He needs to do something or he'll feel like he wasted his day, and all I am ever doing is rotting away in this stupid fucking basement. Tell me how that's gonna work out in the long run, huh?" 

A traitorous sob escapes her throat, and if it wouldn't disturb her parents trying to watch TV above them she'd be screaming her lungs raw. 

"Half the time all I talk about are my stupid fucking illnesses, how suicidal I am, and how much my life sucks. Who wants to be with someone like that? All I do is whine and whine and whine, and when I apologise he tells me not to and that it's fine, and it's just so fucking stupid. He can’t actually mean that. I just know that in his mind he's telling me to shut up." 

The pressure of Ray's fingers does little to keep her calm, but the effort is appreciated. It doesn’t calm her, but it does help. These past few months have been living hell. Hospital visits that didn't yield anwsers, fights with unprofessional doctors, and the school is on her ass due to her slipping grades and lack of attendance. Everything has piled up and is now painfully crashing down on her.

"I hate this so fucking much! I feel so stupid. I had so much fucking potential for a great future, and instead I can't even speak properly half of the time because my brain can't form sentences. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?"

Her hands fly through the air as she speaks, wildly gesturing at nothing. It helps to keep her mind focused on the words she wants to form though. 

"I was top of my class for years! I was a straight A student for God's sake! Who would want to be with such a failure? I might not even graduate highschool." 

She spends a lot of time grieving the life she had before her health declined, and the life she had planned for when she was younger. She knows that it won't happen. She also knows that her parents and Mikey are supportive of her and just want her to get better, but that doesn't help. It's hard to shake off that nasty, sticky feeling of being a failure. 

As if he can read her mind Mikey gently grabs her hand in both of his bigger ones, and squeezes it reassuringly before kissing her knuckles. 

A wet laugh dances through the murky room when Ray in exactly that second tries his best not to poke out Illi's eyes when he wipes her tears with his free hand. 

She does want them here. More than anything. They do help.

"I am so terrified that I'm gonna scare Frank off no matter how often he reassures me. I am so fucking afraid that in the long run he thinks it's too much, and that he doesn't want to put up with it. And I couldn't even blame him for it. I am not curable. I am a burden. I am going to be sick for the rest of my life, and it's a lot. I'm a lot."

Ray is fine with spending most of their hangouts in her bed, huddled up together playing something or watching a movie or just talking. But will that be enough for Frank? Will the limited excitement she can offer him be enough? 

The way Illi questions him makes her feel guilty. It feels like a betrayal and an insult to his character. But she can't help the way her fears are thrashing around her head. 

Even if he doesn't run away screaming, how can she be sure that she won't slowly drive him away? Maybe he'll decide she's a bad partner. Her unpredictable symptoms mean she's flimsy.

She has to cancel at unexpected times, or just decline hangouts from the start. Even something as simple as a phone call is too much at times. And what most people don't understand is that she'll spend the rest of the day guilt ridden about having to cancel. She'll be locked away in her room, not even Mikey is allowed to enter on those days, and she'll beat herself up over disappointing her loved ones,  despite knowing there was no other option if she doesn't want to risk getting worse. 

Everything makes her second guess herself.

She's simultaneously afraid that she's holding back too much, and that she's to forward. Sure, she knows that Frank has feelings for her, but still. Maybe he does think that she's too much. That she is too weird.  

Does her lack of enthusiasm about certian things make him belive she doesn't feel the same way? 

"I don't know how to talk properly." She whispers, and gently swings her and Mikey's joined hands back and forth. "I can't put my feelings into words, and I think that maybe he thinks I don't care for him as much as he does for me. But I do. He makes me feel so much that I think I'm gonna puke. I am falling in love in a really embarrassing crashing down the stairs kind of way." 

A few deep breaths are needed, and again Ray wipes away the few stray tears leaking from her eyes. 

"But I am also afraid that maybe I can't love him how he expects me to? I don't know. Romance is weird and scary and confusing, and I just don't feel like I am good enough." 

"Oh Illi..." 

The unexpected voice makes her shriek. Ray and Mikey aren't as cool about it as they would like to pretend to be either.

Illi very embarrassingly tries to kick off her blanket and jumps up into a sitting position, before she whips around to stare at the door where Frank is standing, holding the doorframe with a grave look on his face.

"Baby, you could've just talked to me. About all of this."

He hesitantly walks into the room, careful not to step on any of her half finished projects littering the floor.

"You're not a burden. You are not a failure. I mean it when I say that you can't scare me off. You've captured me with your over the top freakyness and your awkward ways. Sickness and all. I am not going anywhere."

Illi is gaping like a fish, looking up at Frank while trying to form words. But it's hard. It's like they’re simmering just beneath the surface of a frozen lake, and she can see them, but not quite make them out. 

"Even when you can't speak properly. When you're bed-bound. When all you do is talk about how bad your life is. That's all part of you." 

His calloused fingers gently tug a strand of her hair behind her ear, and somehow that kickstarts her brain. 

"How the fuck did you get in here?" 

Okay. She can form words, but aperantly actually thinking before she speaks still isn't going great. 

"Your parents let me in." Frank laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. "And you sweetheart, are not getting rid of me that easily." 

His lips are soft when they meet her chapped ones, and his lip ring is a weird, but not unwelcome sensation. 

Maybe life isn't so bad after all, and Illi just needs to calm down.