Chapter Text
There was no one more scared for Miles’ first day of high school than Illi. He had assured her that he was going to be fine about a million times, but Illi could not get rid of that sinking feeling in her stomach that he was going to experience a carbon-copy of what her first year was like.
Absolute Hell.
“It’s not like I know anyone there,” Miles insisted, “If anything, this can be a fresh start for me.” His obliviousness almost made Illi burst out laughing, but the tugging feeling of dread restrained it.
“That’s what I thought too,” Illi sighed, but a pathetic smile pulled at the side of her mouth, “Just try to socialise for me, okay? I can’t have you become a hermit that only hangs out with seniors because you can’t make any new friends.”
Miles rolled his eyes at her and continued to desperately flat-iron his hair until it framed his face adequately. Illi resisted the urge to call him a dweeb; it was his first day after all. ‘Tomorrow he won’t be so lucky,’ she thought mischievously, a glint appearing in her eyes. Eventually, she dragged him out the door, purely from impatience. There was no excuse for his morning routine to take that long – especially considering the fact it was longer than hers, and she always spent a good half-an-hour looking in the mirror, making sure she looked as feminine as possible.
Gripping onto his seatbelt for dear life, Miles embraced Illi’s maniac-driving, as otherwise he’d have to face the bus, which seemed far from ideal considering the alternative. Before she wrangled her driving license, and before Ray got his as well, Illi would come home with all these horror-stories from the bus, like it was some stasis-chamber for pubescent torture.
“Whoever decided that shoving a bunch of teenagers in a metal container twice a day, every day, should be the standard method of school transport, should be hanged,” Illi said once.
Amongst the background ambience of car-honking and Illi’s profusive swearing, Miles’ nerves eased slightly. At least for this year, he would have her as a constant amid the very new environment – otherwise he may have begged their parents to let him go to the same high school as the rest of his previous class. It wasn’t like he was leaving behind any great friends to go to St Matthew’s Academy. Frankly, he found his old peers to be mundane at best and insufferable at worst. But at least they would’ve provided that sense of normalcy, which only Illi can now – and not for much longer either.
Hopefully, he’d be used to it by then,
<>
Miles couldn’t remember anything insightful about his morning classes. Once Illi had left him to fend for himself, he slipped into this auto-pilot-like state where his body took him where he needed to go, whilst his mind might as well have been on a different planet. The most he learned from those couple hours, was that his Science classroom smelled like petrol; his English teacher looked like he was itching to tell someone a riddle; and all of the chairs in this school seemed to have uneven legs. The chairs stopped being fun after about five minutes.
Lunch wasn’t much better either. He managed to find a table with a bunch of inoffensive and uninteresting freshmen, who talked about inoffensive and uninteresting things, and seemed perfectly happy just making small talk with him – to which he responded monosyllabically. It wasn’t like he was avoiding people; he was more trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings and get his bearings. Maybe he’d find these people more stimulating tomorrow.
Maths looked like it was going to go the same way until…
“Miles!”
Suddenly he was raising his head to meet the eyes of his clearly-frustrated Maths teacher, who was clicking her fingers at his face. He groaned from the surge of ache that met his neck and upper-back, and the soreness from his previously-closed eyes. Had he seriously dozed off on his first day? Great, now that had to be his gimmick for at least the rest of the year – a trademark could provide him some stability (and get him some extra hours of sleep too).
“I can’t believe I’ve already handed out two detentions on the very first day!” The teacher exclaimed with poorly-acted disbelief, placing a slip on Miles’ desk.
And a detention on day one?
Illi was going to be so proud.
But who was the other one?
He glanced tentatively around the room when everyone found something more interesting to stare at, and he locked eyes with who he assumed to be the culprit. This was confirmed when he saw the detention slip on his desk too. Being careful not to look for too long, he sussed-out that this guy probably wasn’t going to cause him any trouble. The determined attempt to appear intimidating gave it away. Miles could tell he most-likely had the fighting abilities of a ticked-off care-bear. This was further established when they finished class and Miles realised that the boy was tiny.
‘Maybe he’s a late bloomer,’ he thought. Most people had already had their growth spurts, but there was still some hope for the guy to get his too.
At least Miles didn’t fall asleep in the rest of his lessons, but he couldn’t say for certain that was going to be the case for detention. He’d try not to, but the pure sensory deprivation would either drive him mad or knock him clean out. To avoid this, he decided to actually listen to Illi’s advice for once.
“What’re you in for?” Miles asked the short guy once the teacher had given up supervising them. It was inevitable considering it was just the first day of term.
“Hmm?” The boy seemed surprised at the sudden noise in the silent room. It seemed he’d been disassociating.
“Why are you in here?” Miles reiterated patiently.
The boy merely shrugged his shoulders, “I drew dicks in the textbooks, and she didn’t seem to like that very much.”
Miles couldn’t resist the laugh that erupted out of him, “Seriously?”
“Yes!” the boy confirmed amidst his own chuckling, “What? It’s not like I’m gonna use them for anything productive! I just wanted to give the next person who opens that book something to giggle about!” He waved his arms in the air in hilarity.
“You’ve given up this early?” Miles let out another laugh.
“Says the one who fell asleep earlier,” The boy rightly responded.
“Touché,” Miles admitted.
In that moment, the teacher walked back in, raised an eyebrow at them, and proceeded to dismiss them from the detention. Once out, the boy held out a hand for Miles to shake, “I’m Francis.”
Miles took his hand and shook it once, confidently, “Miles.”
“See you around, Miles!” Francis sped off, returned back in view on a bike, gave Miles a nod, and whizzed away.
A sudden honk made him remember he’d just left detention. He turned around to see Illi leaning out the driver’s window of her car, expectedly waiting for her brother to hop in and tell her everything, “You couldn’t just keep yourself out of trouble for one day, could you?” A teethy grin reminded Miles that he had nothing to worry about.
“All I did was fall asleep in Maths,” He muttered with feigned annoyance.
“Like sister like brother, Milli,” she seemed a little disappointed (and relieved) it wasn’t something more interesting, “Did you at least make any friends?”
“One,” Miles smiled discreetly.
<>
Day number two was significantly better than the first. The lessons were a similar level of mind-bogglingly dull, apart from Music, which Miles relatively enjoyed. Instead of the group he’d latched onto during lunch before, he scouted out Francis in the cafeteria. He wasn’t sitting alone per-say, but he was visibly not interacting with the group he was sharing a table with. Fortunately, there was a vacant seat next to him, and the boy’s eyes lit up upon seeing Miles.
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” Francis joked half-heartedly, “I was quite impressed with myself that I’d managed to meet someone who was not only a kid I’ve never met, but also not a complete narc.”
“Hey, I was the one who spoke first dude,” Miles cartoonishly rolled his eyes.
Francis lightly hit Miles’ shoulder, to which he reacted with feebly-acted shock.
“So do you know many of these people?” Miles gestured vaguely to the rest of the students in the cafeteria.
Francis nodded, “Unfortunately,” He spat. From his serious expression alone, Miles understood that he didn’t want to elaborate much further.
“Everyone in my middle school went to high school the next town over,” He diverted, “My sister and I go here because it’s closer, and supposedly better than where everyone else in that school went. I’m baffled either of us even passed the admissions test.”
“Admissions tests mean nothing if you can pay them,” Francis admitted dryly.
“Our parents don’t like to discuss that sort of thing with us,” Miles shifted uncomfortably, “What about you? Are you just here cause it’s where your old classmates have gone?”
Francis shook his head, “Catholic parents, Catholic-ish school.”
Though St Matthews had been secularising more recently, it was still deemed as a ‘Catholic Prep-School’ by most, and was certainly the only large religious one within the county borders. As a result of the secularisation however, the only thing ambiguously Catholic about the school was the uniform. But, as long as it was funded by the local church (which it was, partially) it remained a Catholic school by definition.
Then it all clicked for Miles, “Ohhh! You’re literally named after a Saint, of course you’re Catholic!” Miles facepalmed, which made Francis chuckle.
“My parents are Catholic, first of all, and I’m surprised you didn’t realise that earlier. You seem like you’d be at least a little Catholic,” he explained casually.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, they all used to be Catholic, but he didn’t think he gave off a Catholic vibe.
“Trust me, I just know,” Francis said ominously, taking joy at Miles’ freaked out expression.
<>
Illi almost went to check up on Miles to make sure he was doing alright, but when she saw him happily chatting away with another freshman in the cafeteria, she knew he’d be alright for the time-being.
“See? You’re just being paranoid Illi, he’s fine,” Ray insisted, but Illi just scoffed.
“Watch what you let escape your mouth, Raymond Ruiz, or I’ll shut it forever,” She croaked, keeping her voice down.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Ray started laughing, which only intensified when Illi slapped his arm.
“You’re unbelievable,” She began to chuckle as well.
<>
The start of term ‘grace period’ ended abruptly on the third day. Admittedly, Francis was surprised it had even lasted as long as it did, and he seemed almost relieved that it was over.
“It was starting to weird me out,” he explained, “Seeing them keep to themselves for once.”
It began with passing comments, mostly directed at Francis rather than Miles, because no-one knew him well enough yet. He intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. But, it was destined that he’d get caught up in the crossfire just from association. It didn’t help that he seemed to be Francis’ only friend. The passing comments soon became pluralised, and it wasn’t long before they’d started to target Miles individually as well. However, due to the fact people didn’t know much about him at all, the insults were very impersonal and general, lessening how much he actually cared about them. One group was particularly prolific in their diatribes – the hockey team. Or at least a small sub-section of the especially obnoxious ones. Miles didn’t bother learning their names at first – he’d probably unconsciously memorise them eventually. They all reeked of Axe cologne, unnecessary pride, and The American Dream. Disgusting.
Half of Miles’ classes were plagued by at least one of these pricks, but they seemed more out-going in a group compared to by themselves. He was largely left alone in Science, but Maths and English always consisted of at least one ball of paper chucked at his head containing profanity ranging from hilariously creative insults (which he actually giggled while reading a couple times) to plain and simple slurs. When he informed Francis, all he said was:
“Expect more of that, it’s their favourite insult. For me at least.”
This comment was justified when they walked to their lockers (which neighboured each other fortunately) and someone had written ‘Fag #1’ and ‘Fag #2’ on each.
“Aw man, why am I Fag #2?” Miles grunted, and Francis chuckled darkly.
“I was there first asshole. I’m the OG fag to these people,” he coughed to clear his voice, “I’ve held this title since 6th Grade.”
“For that long?” Miles chuckled, “I didn’t know that word meant until at least 7th.”
The targeting transitioned into being more physical when Miles had his first Gym class. ‘Whoever invented dodgeball ought to be shot,’ Miles thought to himself. He really was slowly becoming more like Illi. It was a miracle itself that he’d not gotten picked last for the teams, but unfortunately, Francis was put on the opposing side. Miles was perfectly happy just picking up balls and throwing them to other members of the team for them to use, but Francis seemed to try and compensate for his small size by trying way too hard. He manically ran for the balls, dodged in the most dramatic way possible, and threw with such passion. Miles didn’t know whether he was staring because he was impressed or because he was perplexed. He was so transfixed on the boy’s rapid and clumsy movements, that he didn’t notice the ball flying hastily at him.
“FUCK!” he yelled louder-than-intended, the impact of it resulting in him toppling to the ground. That ball had hit him square in the face, and managed to crack one of the lenses in his glasses; the frame dug into his nose painfully as an extra annoyance to add to it. He looked up to see Francis’ stunned and slightly-worried expression from the other side of the room, which turned more sinister when he processed what had happened. Miles scrambled to get back on his feet, and the teacher shot him a look to basically ask ‘You alright?’. He nodded in response, a little winded from what had just occurred, and the teacher signalled for the game to continue. Francis looked like he was going to burst into flames out of protest, but Miles shot him a look to say ‘don’t worry about it’. It didn’t count as a disqualification, as it hit his head, but Miles wished it did so he could sit out. The cracked lens certainly didn’t aid his ability to focus for the rest of the lesson, and the brief whiplash he got turned into slight-nausea.
Once Gym had ended, Francis looked like he was seconds away from exploding.
“That was so obviously on purpose, I can’t believe the teacher didn’t say something!” He practically shouted, making Miles wince, “That ball wouldn’t have had enough momentum to crack your glasses unless he’d deliberately aimed to hit your head!”
Miles lifted up his specs and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, “Who even threw it? It just came out of nowhere for me.”
Francis sighed dramatically, “It was fucking Hunter Brown! Who else would it be?”
Miles stared at him blankly, and Francis face-palmed.
“He’s one of the dickwads on the hockey team.” That at least made sense. After that, he seemed to compose himself mostly, and then a concerned look plastered his face, “Are you alright, at least? You looked like you were about to hurl for a good fifteen minutes afterwards.”
Miles nodded quickly to assure him, so he’d stop looking at him like that. That would’ve made him hurl. “Just winded me a bit, that’s all.”
When Illi asked what happened to his glasses after school, Miles just told her that he’d walked into a doorframe.
<>
A couple days later, Miles and Francis were merely retrieving and replacing some books in their lockers for their next classes, when Francis stopped dead in his tracks, and his head was twisted to gaze into the hallway.
“Woah, who’s that?” Miles could’ve sworn he saw the guy turning red in the face, but before he could tease him about it, he took a glance at who he was staring at.
Sure enough, he was looking at none-other than Illi, who was at her own locker, chatting with Ray casually. Miles felt his eye twitch slightly, and a rush a nausea hit him for a couple seconds.
“That’s my sister Fran,” he spluttered grimly, “Back the fuck off.”
Like he’d almost been re-programmed, Francis got the not-even-a-hint immediately, and started muttering quick and plentiful apologies under his breath. Miles also vaguely heard him utter a brief prayer amidst them. After, he glanced back at Illi, back at Miles, then at Illi again, and back at Miles once more, “I guess I can kinda see the resemblance?” He didn’t sound convinced.
Miles made a noise in neutrality, and shrugged his shoulders. People could never agree on whether he and Illi looked related or not, but he didn’t care much either way.
This moment was abruptly ended when Hunter and the rest of the posse yelled something at the two of them. Miles didn’t quite hear what they said, because the rustle and bustle of the hallway muffled any noise that wasn’t within a foot of them, but Francis seemed to. He loved to shout back at them, despite Miles’ pleads to just ignore them.
“I did ignore them, Miles. I tried, trust me. They just never stop. I might as well stand my ground,” he’d explained, which Miles partially understood.
Without context, Miles couldn’t fully understand what Francis rebutted with, but the part he did understand, was that he yelled for them to shove a hockey stick up their asses.
They didn’t take too kindly to that comment.
In a flash, both Francis and Miles were pinned against their lockers: Miles by his head, and Francis by his neck. Francis gasped for air – they weren’t fully choking him, but it certainly didn’t look comfortable to breathe. Miles kept his eyes glued to his friend.
“What’re you gonna do, Hunter?” Francis managed to spit out, “Everyone’s watching us.”
‘Stop encouraging him,’ Miles almost told him, but he decided against it. A crowd had indeed formed, which gave them a little hope of getting out of this mostly unscathed. All of a sudden, Hunter punched Francis square in the nose, which let out a teeth-grinding crunch. A surprised yelp exited Miles’ mouth, and the jock with a grip on him slammed his head back into the locker in response. His vision went fuzzy for a moment, and the air-pocket lines that jutted out the door dug into his cranium. The next thing he knew, the bullies were pulled off them and had fallen to the linoleum floor. The boys were too stunned to react basically at all, but a familiar voice hauled Miles out of this state.
“Stay away from them, asshat!”
Illi.
Subsequently, he was being dragged by the arm away from the lockers, heading towards the nearby disabled restroom. When they’d reached it, Ray quickly locked the door, and all four of them were just breathing and gawking at each other. That was until Ray broke the silence.
“Are you two okay?” He asked panickily, his gaze darting between the two freshmen rapidly. Illi looked half-way between furious and shell-shocked at this point.
Miles reached to touch the back of his head, and almost jumped in surprised when it came back wet with blood. He instantly shoved his hand behind him to hide it, and gave a pathetic thumbs-up with his free one. Francis was holding onto his nose, but he seemed tranquil. He then proceeded to pop it back into place with a weighty crack, and let out a brief groan. The rest of them just gaped at him in disbelief.
“What?” He asked, reaching for a piece of toilet roll to clean up the blood dripping out of his nostrils, “Once you’ve done it a couple times, it gets easier y’know?”
Illi shivered slightly, then turned to Miles, giving him a haunting look that he only saw rarely, “You’re paler than usual Milli, you’re bleeding aren’t you?” She deduced instantly. Francis’ expression changed minutely, looking more amused than usual, but Miles didn’t pay much attention. He sheepishly removed his hand from behind him, and revealed the blood, proceeding to point at the relevant area. Ray shot towards him to examine the damage, and Illi just sighed.
“I knew this would fucking happen,” She then glared at Ray, who inched away slightly, and then she turned back to Miles, “Have these people been repeatedly bothering you?”
Hesitantly, Miles nodded, and Illi’s eyes dropped. Miles didn’t have the heart to tell her yet that it’d been going on for almost two weeks now. The girl started to speak again, but re-considered when she remembered that there were two others present.
Ray piped up, “You’re lucky Miles, it’s nothing serious; just a couple small cuts, but those will heal naturally.” After taking a first-aid course, Ray had been allocated to ‘injury assessment’, as he at least had some basic knowledge on what needed to be looked at by professionals and what didn’t. This didn’t seem to ease Illi’s nerves though.
To attempt to diffuse the tension after a couple agonizing seconds, Miles pointed at his friend, “Guys, this is Francis. Francis, this is Illi, and this is Ray,” gesturing to them respectively.
“Hey,” Ray made a small wave and smiled kindly at him, and Illi made an attempt at a similar expression of acknowledgment, but it was clouded by her clear mental confliction. Francis didn’t seem to take offense though, and he just grinned appropriately.
For the remaining duration of the day, the idea of the drive home made Miles yearn for an unjust detention.
<>
Each step towards the car made Miles feel progressively more ill, and he considered rushing towards Francis to beg him to let him go home with him instead. But, he eventually decided that trying to delay the inevitable would just make the situation worse. He hated it when Illi worried about him, plus he had to face the fact he’d been lying to her since the beginning of term. As he got closer, he could see Illi waiting solemnly in the drivers seat, her arms crossed over her chest. She just turned her head slightly when Miles got inside and asked, “The rest of your day okay?” Miles just nodded in reply. Illi didn’t start the car.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” She finally began, but she looked less aggravated and more hurt.
Miles took a couple seconds to respond, “I didn’t want you to worry,” he admitted simply.
“Y’know what bothers me more?” Illi asked rhetorically, her expression unchanging, “Being left in the dark about what’s actually going on, Miles.”
The use of his actual name made Miles shudder, but Illi just continued, “When did they start troubling you?” The question weighed heavy in his mind, and he would’ve lied if he hadn’t been doing that constantly up to this point. He thought she deserved the truth for once.
“Since Wednesday last week,” He eventually confessed, and that seemed to punch Illi in the gut. He immediately regretted being honest, his throat closing up so he couldn’t say any more.
The car finally started moving, and the journey was excruciatingly quiet. It wasn’t like Illi was going to tell their parents, at least without his expressed consent, but he knew he’d have to make the decision between shutting himself in his room or facing the problem head-on. His train of thought was interrupted though, when Illi missed the turn towards their house. Initially, he was going to question this, but over the years he’d learned to just go along with what Illi was intending to do.
They’d ended up parking outside their local park, and Miles knew exactly where they were going. A secluded bench sat on the outskirts of the area, facing out towards the city below them. The siblings had spent a myriad of their most difficult moments sat on this bench, but it was an indicator that it was all going to be alright. When they’d reached it, Illi unsheathed a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, held one out for Miles as well as getting one for herself. She mumbled something along the lines, “Smoking is bad for you, y’know,” and lit up both of them.
The silence was broken by Miles himself, “I’m sorry,” he said a bit pitifully, but Illi just waved her hand to signal that it was fine.
“I did the same thing when I was your age, remember?” She reminisced, “I’m just glad I can be there in school to help.”
‘Not for much longer,’ Miles wanted to add, but he repressed that thought. Instead, he explained, “Yeah, you did the same thing, and you almost imploded,” Miles shivered at the memory, “If anything, I should’ve learned to avoid going down the same route.”
Suddenly, Illi pulled him into a tight hug, “Just don’t continue hiding things from me, okay?” She stated earnestly.
“I won’t,” he exhaled. His nerves finally let him relax.