Chapter Text
“You’re seriously trying to tell me A Night at the Opera is better than Hatful of Hollow?” Mikey scoffs.
“Yeah.” Ray jerks his chin up in a nod, “It’s a masterpiece, but it’s not A Night at the Opera good, y’know?”
“No, I don’t.”
Illi presses her fingers to her temples. God, today was going to be a long day. She could already feel the headache brewing in her skull, a dull throb at her temples that promised to get worse.
Class had wrung her dry with back-to-back tests, and lunch, which had barely even started, was shaping up to be just as overwhelming. Their usual spot in the overflowing cafeteria had been stolen by some group of assholes, so they were exiled to the blaze outside.
The sun beat down on her ghostly skin, unforgivingly hot. It left her miserable, with her clothes clinging to her skin with sweat. The temperatures had been unrelenting this spring, and sitting in the sun felt more like a punishment than anything.
Illi viewed the sun with the same disdain as a vampire, though, so maybe she wasn’t the best judge.
Her food was a casualty of her shitty day, too, crushed in her locker at some point, the sandwich having become nothing more than a sad, flattened version of itself. It was far better than whatever slop the cafeteria tried to pass off as food, so she picked at it anyway.
Whatever. It’s not like today could get any worse, could it?
“With Queen, every track is like an event— the orchestration, the transitions, the way they blend genres… It’s like a rock opera.” Ray’s voice grew animated, waving his fruit around as he spoke with his hands. “And don’t even get me started on Brian May’s guitar skills.”
Mikey scoffs playfully, “We get it. You’ve got a boner for Brian May, Ray. We’ve established this several times now.”
“Shut up, I do not. I just… admire his skill. He’s a legend for a reason, Mikey.”
Amusement paints a grin across Mikey’s cheeks. “You can deny it all you want, but you know it’s true.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ray rolls his eyes, finally taking a bite of his food. He’s barely even bothering to swallow before going back to ranting. “In comparison, Hatful of Hollow-”
Illi sighs and tunes them out.
Same debate, different day.
She can’t wander off into her own head and daydream for long before a familiar face drops down beside her. Frank runs his hand through the mess of raven he calls hair. “Are they seriously on about this again?”
“Yep.” Illi pops the word with a dry smile.
Frank laughs right by her ear, the sound fizzling in her chest. He was nestled so closely beside her that she could feel his body heat through their clothes. “Isn’t this like the third time this week now? They’ve agreed to disagree every time.”
“Yeah, like that's stopping them.” She giggles.
Frank watches them for a few moments before resting his head against her shoulder. Her heart felt like it could rip itself out of her chest, butterflies dancing about in her stomach.
Frank had always been the physically affectionate type, so it wasn’t exactly unusual for him. Though his touches came more in the form of hair ruffles, shoulder bumps, and play fights. This, however, felt different.
It was softer. Sweeter. It almost made her feel special.
Maybe she was special to Frank.
He’d always been softer with her than he was with the others, and sometimes she’d let herself get caught up in the possibility that there was more to it. The way his gaze seemed to linger, how his smiles felt warmer when directed her way.
Maybe there was something more than just friendship threading between them. Fragile and shimmering, just waiting for one of them to tug at it and send it unravelling.
Or maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. Wishful thinking and all.
Oh well. You couldn’t blame her for holding out hope.
Frank shifts and presses closer into her, chewing on his lip quietly as the silence spells between them. His eyes eventually finds hers, and he smiles. “You free after school?
“I am.”
“Wanna walk home with me?”
She grins toothily at him, “Yeah, sure.”
It really didn’t mean anything, but Mikey was staying a little later after school today, so it’d just be the two of them. The thought of it has her feeling a little giddy. ‘Stop it, Illi. Stop being stupid.’ She scolds herself.
Ray and Mikey don’t seem to pay any mind to their impromptu intimacy, continuing with their petty squabble. “But with Night at the Opera, you don’t have to choose— hey wait, Frank, isn’t that Chelsea?” Ray interrupts himself and cocks his head to the side slightly, squinting toward a girl with bright blonde hair.
Illi watches as realisation dawns over Frank’s expression, eyes widening. Suddenly, he’s jolting upright, pulling his head off Illi’s shoulder so fast you’d’ve thought it burnt him. His face flushes a cherry red.
“Chelsea?” Illi frowned.
“You don’t know?” Mikey blinks. “She’s that girl Frank won’t stop talking about. The one he likes?”
Oh.
So it could get worse.
So, so much worse.
The girl—Chelsea—waves at Frank as she walks past, the aforementioned boy waving back sheepishly. Mikey snickers at him, “Dude, you are so whipped.”
“Fuck off, I’m not.”
“I just think she’s kinda pretty, is all.”
Mikey just snorts.
Right, pretty.
Illi and Chelsea were practically polar opposites. Chelsea with her perfect skin with a perfect face, her hair long and her figure slender. Whereas Illi had blemished and ghostly pale skin and choppy black hair, with far more meat on her than she was happy with. Not to mention the fact Chelsea was a real girl, which was something Illi would never be able to compete with.
God, if this was Frank’s type, she never even stood a chance to begin with, did she?
She swallows down the lump in her throat. “Since when did you have a crush on her? She hangs out with the jocks. I thought we hated those guys.”
“Since forever. Do you really not remember me telling you?” Frank’s face crumpled into a frown. “And she’s different from the others. She’s kind and caring and shit.”
Illi just huffs. Frank stares at her with a rather unreadable expression, only being able to pick up on the flecks of hurt swirling in his eyes. She returns his frown and falls quiet.
“You should ask her to go to prom with you,” Ray suggests, teasing glinting in his eyes. “She’s totally into you, dude. She’ll definitely say yes.”
“You think so?” Frank asks nervously. “I mean, I don't think it'd be a good idea. Can't give her what she expects, and I don't wanna let her down.”
“What could she expect that you can’t give her?” Ray frowns in confusion.
“A kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't think she's expecting you to kiss her, Frank.” Ray deadpans.
He scoffs, the tops of his cheeks burning even hotter. “My date for homecoming last year sure wanted me to. The look on her face when she realised I didn’t know how to”
He grimaces. “I'm not humiliating myself like that again.”
It seems that the very moment that Chelsea is out of view, Frank is sinking back into Illi’s side, head resting upon her shoulder like nothing happened. The motion only serves to make her sadder.
“It’ll be fine, Frank. You can learn how to before then if you’re so worried. We’ve still got a few weeks until prom.” Mikey says, flicking something off the top of his unfairly intact sandwich.
“Yeah, maybe.” Frank mumbles, the conversation fizzling out.
Knowing her feelings weren’t returned stung, but what was she to do about it? She couldn’t blame Frank for anything. The revelation sits heavily in her chest, sharp and aching in a way that made her stomach twist.
The others prattle on about some new topic that’d garnered their interest, Illi vaguely picking up on Ray and Mikey talking about the record store they were going to after school, but she doesn’t really listen. She doesn’t care how pathetic it is; she lets herself wallow in self-pity.
Silly Illi and her stupid imagination, always reading into things and filling in the blanks when what was real wasn’t what she wanted it to be.
She rests her head on top of Frank’s, his dishevelled hair brushing her cheek as he moves. She sighs noticeably, catching Frank’s attention. “You okay? You keep zoning out”
“Hm? Yeah, just… thinking is all.” Illi mumbles, “We have that stupid science test later, which I didn’t study for.”
Frank clearly doesn’t seem to believe her, judging by both the look he sends her and the way his eyes scrunch up, but he doesn’t say anything. Illi just sinks into his side, disappointment like a weight pressing down on her ribs.
***
“I totally blew it.”
Wind tousles Illi’s hair as it blows, heady with petrichor, a promise of rain. It had since cooled down a little since lunch, the air pleasantly warm rather than overbearing as she and Frank walked side by side down the sidewalk.
Frank’s shoes scuff against the pavement as he goes, “Me too. This new teacher sucks, he can’t teach for shit.”
“I know, right?” Illi scoffs, “He still can’t get my name right either, no matter how many times I fucking correct him.”
“I’m gonna punch that fucking bastard one day, I swear.” Frank huffs, picking at the fraying threads of his backpack straps.
Illi snorts, shoving at his side lightly. “You and Mikey both.”
Illi liked to think of herself as a decently smart girl. She wasn’t doing badly in any of her classes—except for chemistry, of course—had a good memory, was relatively open-minded, empathetic… and so on and so on.. (There was only so much she could praise herself before she’d be lying.)
But one thing she noticeably lacked was the ability to make good decisions, especially on a whim. Impromptu purchases of shit she didn't need at the mall, sleeping in a few extra minutes and winding up late for school, skipping showering to keep reading the latest copy of Fangoria she’s picked up… Relatively harmless, yes, but still blunders.
This time, the options weighing on her mind were more serious. Life-altering and potentially friendship-ruining.
Illi was a damn good kisser (according to the few people she’d been with, at least), whilst Frank wasn’t. Well, it wouldn’t be fair to call him bad exactly, more like inexperienced. Hesitant in a way that’d make sense for someone who’d never really done it before.
And maybe that should’ve been cute, endearing even, but all she could think about was how she could fix it. How she could help him.
She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea; it was dangerous territory, a sure path leading her straight into heartbreak, but the thought had already lodged itself in her brain and refused to leave. She could offer to teach him. Just as friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
Her heart gives a painful twist at the thought.
Even if she’d never get to be with him in the way she wanted, never get to hold his hand, to wake up next to him, to get to call him hers, at least she could have that. Just once. One small, stolen thing.
Maybe if she taught him, she could live with that quiet ache that’d sit behind her ribs whenever he smiled at a girl. Maybe if she kissed him, even if just once, she could stop wondering what it would feel like, to know how his lips and tongue would taste.
She knew it was selfish. God, she knew. But logic and longing had never gotten along well in her head, and the longer she thought about it, the more that small, stupid idea started to sound like a plan.
Yes, maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea after all… Teach Frank how to kiss, and don’t ruin everything between them or have her heart crushed even more than it already had been in the process.
Illi lets out a long, shaky breath, staring up into the sky, its pristine blue blotted with forming storm clouds, as if it were able to offer her some sort of divine guidance.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. The universe never seemed interested in saving her from herself. Because really, what kind of person came up with something like that and thought it could end well?
The fantasy tugged at her still, its picture crystalline in her mind; Frank sat across from her, awkward and uncertain with his usual confidence stripped down to something vulnerable. Illi would (probably) tease him for it, make some kind of joke to lighten the air, but then she’d show him. She’d be slow and patient, instructing him through the motions and praising him for his effort.
Maybe it’d be the other way around; Illi being the nervous and Frank teasing her for it.
Her stomach flutters just imagining it.
‘God, you’re pathetic.’
Not even her self-loathing could dull the warmth that came from the thought. She could make it casual; make it sound like a joke, and if he said no, she’d laugh it off like it was a joke. But if he said yes…
She wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from it. No, she definitely wouldn’t.
But, fuck, you can’t knock it till you try it, right?
“So… you don’t know how to kiss, huh?” She starts.
Frank’s reaction is immediate, his face burning up to that same red as before as he scoffs. “Don’t even start, Ills. I get enough shit from Mikey about it as it is, I don’t need you going on about it too.”
Ills. She feels giddy all over again.
“I’m not gonna tease you.” Illi replies, “The opposite, actually. I um— I have an idea.”
“An idea?” Frank’s eyebrows are tightly furrowed.
She nods, “Yeah, um— you know how I’ve got, like… a bit of experience? With relationships and, y’know, being with people and stuff. I just thought maybe I could, um, teach you? Like… how to kiss. Or something.”
Frank completely stops walking, like a deer in headlights. Illi’s heart sinks into the pit of her stomach.
“In like… a friend way, y’know?” she blurts out, words tumbling over each other in a rush. “Like—like it wouldn’t have to mean anything, obviously. It’s just practice after all. I just thought it might help you since you haven’t really done it before. Save face and not embarrass yourself in front of Chelsea.”
Frank doesn’t say anything, and suddenly, the cracks in the concrete are far more interesting than his facial expressions. God, she wanted to cry.
“Fuck. Forget it.” She swallows hard, “It’s stupid, sorry.”
It takes a good few seconds more, but Frank finally, finally, responds. “...You’d do that for me?”
“I mean, yeah. I wouldn't have suggested otherwise.”
She doesn’t see it, but she assumes he nods instead of words.
“And what do you want out of it?” He hums, suspicious.
She hadn’t actually thought of that, but coming up with something on the spot was easy. “Let’s just say you owe me?”
Hope sparks in her chest as Frank sighs, “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”
“Maybe.” She grins a shit-eating grin.
“Okay, then. You have a deal. Just don’t breathe a word to the others, yeah?” Frank says. Illi shrugs, “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Okay, cool.”
“Cool.”
Illi’s eyes flit back up to his face, and she’s surprised to see he was still incredibly flustered, though less shocked. He clears his throat. “When do you wanna—”
“Mikey’s not home ‘till late, neither are my parents, if you wanna head to my place and do it now.” Illi interrupts.
Frank replies, “Sure. My mom isn’t expecting me back until later, so that works with me.”
“Okay”.
Illi doesn’t remember much of the walk back to her place, vaguely of Frank rambling about a horror movie he’d seen recently that he wanted to watch with the group, and how closely he’d been beside her the entire trip.
Frank snickers about something Illi doesn’t catch as they scurry up the stairs into her room, which is an absolute mess, but he doesn’t seem to care. Boots are pulled off, and both of them carelessly drop their bags on the floor, and Frank sits on the side of Illi’s bed, looking unsure of what to do with himself as Illi peels off her socks.
She settles across from him at the head of the bed. Frank fidgets with his hands. “What do we do now?”
“C’mere?” she suggests. Illi didn’t exactly mean for him to sit on her lap, more so beside or in front of her, but she wasn’t complaining. Her headboard is a firm pressure against her back as she leans against it, Frank’s breath fanning hot across her cheeks and sending another swarm of butterflies throughout her stomach.
Frank was so close that Illi could see every little hair on his face, count every tiny freckle and blemish on his skin she’d never been able to notice before. She watches as his throat bobs with a swallow, his nervousness palpable. She’d call it cute if that same feeling weren’t seeping through her veins.
“Is this okay?” Frank asks, his voice undeniably softer.
Illi nods, bringing her hand up to rest on Frank’s clothed hip. He shifts his knees where they bracket the widest part of her thighs. “Yeah. ’ts good.”
Frank hums softly, eyes tracing up and down her face before settling on her lips. She licks them out of habit. It's quiet for a few moments before Frank is giggling nervously. “So, um… how do I start?”
“How much do you know about kissing?” She asks. The question only seems to make him laugh again, his snort incredibly unattractive but endearing, nonetheless. “Like nothing, dude. Kind of why you’re teaching me?”
“Right, yeah…” Illi huffs. “Why don’t you try what you think you’re supposed to do, and I’ll correct you, and we’ll go on from there?”
“Sure,” Frank says, and then promptly connects their lips in a rough kiss, their teeth clacking together. As cliché as it was, Illi really did feel her heart skip a beat in her chest. The force of it was enough to pull a gasp from her throat.
Her eyes droop but don’t close, whilst Frank’s stay wide open. It’s painfully awkward, and she could feel herself dying inside a little, though it thankfully doesn’t last that long. Her lips almost feel bruised when they part.
Insecurity drowned out the flush on Frank’s face.
She clears her throat. “Okay, two main things: don’t be so rough? You’re trying to kiss someone, not crush their lips into their face. Second, close your eyes. It’s kinda uncomfortable to be stared at like that while you’re kissing.”
“I mean— not always. Depends on the person, and the situation overall, and their preferences, and— yeah. Close them if you can.”
He nods, “Shit, sorry. I’m hopeless at this.”
“I’ve had worse.”
No.
She really hadn’t.
That was probably the worst kiss she’d had in her entire life.
But hey, a little white lie never hurt anyone…
“Let me take the lead this time? I mean, kissing someone and being kissed are two different things, but it could give you some pointers.” Illi suggests. Frank mumbles a quick ‘sure’ and shifts onto her lap. She guides him to hold onto her waist and brings her free hand up to cup his cheek, then kisses him again.
It’s softer now that she’s in control, hesitant but still sweet. His lips were waxy with Chapstick, and he tasted like sugar-free soda. Frank sighs into the kiss, letting her take charge without fuss, melting into her touch like butter. His eyelashes flutter against the highs of her cheekbones.
This time, they only separate when their lungs burn, breath coming out in short pants as Frank rests his forehead against hers. Intimate, but fine in Illi’s books.
“You’re good.” Frank comments.
Illi just snickers, “Try it like that.”
It's not perfect, but Frank kisses much better this time, albeit a little dryly. Tenderness pours into it like molten honey, but Frank’s hesitance still bleeds through. She just mumbles against his lips. “Don’t overthink it, Frankie. It’s okay.”
Frank makes a small noise at the back of his throat and drops his shoulders.
Distantly, she can hear the light pattering of rain against her window, as well as the steady rumbling of thunder. She doubted Frankie had an umbrella in his backpack, so he’d probably have to stay later if he didn’t want to get wet.
He breaks the kiss with a cough. “How was that?”
“It was okay.” She says honestly.
Frank shrugs, “I mean… I’ll get better the more we practice, yeah?”
Illi’s stomach flips a little at how he sounds, but not in a bad way. If anything, it’s kind of charming, the way his eyes light up, clearly looking forward to more.
“Yeah,” she says with a small grin. “Practice makes perfect.”
Frank snickers, lips quirking nervously before he leans in again. He doesn’t hesitate as much this time, though it’s still awkward. His nose bumps hers, and he pulls back just enough to mutter a quiet, flustered “sorry” before trying again.
Their lips are still dry, and it’s far from good, but there’s a strange sweetness to it. He’s trying—really trying—and she can feel it in how he presses close to her, uncertain but sincere.
The kiss lacks finesse, but not warmth.
Illi hums against his mouth, tilting her head slightly. “Better,” she mumbles as they break apart.
Frank beams at her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she parrots, meaning it. There's no regret twisting in her chest (yet) and no overthinking it. Only the faint, pleasant buzz of the moment, and the feel of the soft curve of her smile. “You’re getting there.”
They kiss for a while longer, even though Frank wasn’t making much progress, before eventually pulling away for good. They went downstairs and watched a movie that Illi had already seen a thousand times. Mikey crashes and joins when he gets home, making comments on how they were ‘acting funny’, but Illi couldn’t tell what he meant.
It’s only as Illi is lying in bed at the end of the day, long after Frank left, trying to sleep, that the realisation of what had happened finally hits her.
She’d kissed Frank.
Frank had kissed her.
Holy shit.
The giggle bursts from her lips before she has the chance to stop it, high and girlish. She buries her face into her pillow. Her heart hammers so hard against her ribs you’d think it was trying to break free.
He’d said yes. He’d gone along with it. It had fucking worked.
Illi kicks her legs lightly, a grin tugging at her mouth. “No way.” She whispers into the pillowcase, half laughing as she says it. Because there’s no way, right? Good things like that don’t actually happen. Not to her.
But it did.
And god, if it didn’t make her feel light.
Giddy and stupid, so, so alive.
Trying to forget the feeling of Frank’s lips against hers is going to be a nightmare, though. The realisation grounds her; she calms down a little. This was really not going to help her raging crush on Frank in the slightest.
‘Oh, Illi, you are so fucked.’