New Universe, Old Feeling
No, this is not your usual love story.
It’s not easy finding love in chaos. Jumping across the multiverse? That’s the kind of thing that only happens in comic books—heroes saving dimensions, rewriting reality—but never something you’d imagine doing yourself. It’s a fantasy.
Until it isn’t.
One minute, you’re just a kid from Brooklyn, sketching in your notebook, minding your business. The next? A radioactive spider bites you, a whole new world cracks open, and suddenly, you’re wearing the mask. You’re Spider-Man now, because the old one—your world’s Peter Parker—is gone. And just when you think you’re alone in all this, you find out you’re not. You meet others, different versions of you. A family of sorts. And among them—Gwen. Your love. Or at least, you thought she was.
But good things never last. Your friends leave. Gwen leaves. And you’re alone again.
Until she comes back, talking about a society of Spider-People, a whole Spider-Verse to explore. And just like that, you’re not alone anymore. Things are looking up.
Until they’re not.
Because now, they want you to let your dad die. Like it’s just another part of some cosmic script. Like you’re supposed to just sit back and watch. But that’s not who you are. You refuse. And now? Now you’re the enemy. The one thing that’s not supposed to exist. An anomaly.
And Miguel O’Hara? He’s not just mad—he’s furious. And he’s not just chasing you—he’s hunting you.
Miles Morales was far from okay.
His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat screaming run, run, RUN! Adrenaline surged through his veins, his thoughts racing just as fast as his legs. Panic wasn’t an option. Fear wasn’t either.
Didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Miguel’s eyes burned red, fangs bared, the kind of look that said I’m done talking. The kind that sent ice crawling up Miles' spine. His Spidey-sense shrieked—DANGER, DANGER, DANGER! But the worst part?
Peter. Gwen. The people he trusted, the ones who were supposed to have his back? They just stood there.
Watching.
Not helping.
How could Hobie—a guy he just met—risk everything for him, but his friends just stood there, doing nothing? His family?
That’s what broke him.
Miguel’s frustration boiled over, smashing into the Go-Home Machine, sparks flying, wires snapping, Peter shouting, trying to stop him. But that’s not what sealed Miles’ fate.
It was the explosion.
MOVE! GET OUT!
B O O M!
The machine malfunctioned, a blinding tear ripping through space and time. The energy field around the pod surged, sending a shockwave through the room. Miles barely had a second to brace before it swallowed him whole.
Then? Nothing.
Just an endless, kaleidoscopic plunge through the multiverse.
He crashed hard, the impact rattling his bones. His head throbbed, blood trickling down his forehead, mixing with rain and sweat. His arm burned, pain shooting down to his fingertips. His suit? Torn. Mask? Cracked. And when he pushed himself up, the city around him felt…wrong.
Familiar, but not quite right.
First things first—what the hell just happened?
Memories hit like a sucker punch—Miguel’s voice, sharp as a knife: “You’re the original anomaly.”
Badump. Badump.
“The spider that bit you? It wasn’t from your dimension. It was never supposed to bite you.”
Badump. Badump.
“You’re a mistake.”
His breath came fast, too fast. His hands curled into fists, shaking. He had to keep it together—if he lost control now—
No. Not happening. Not here.
He barely remembered crashing. Just the cold, the impact, the wrongness of everything. His body screamed in protest as he dragged himself upright, leaning against the damp alley wall. Rain poured, mixing with the neon glow of the city. A city that wasn’t his.
Miles groaned, running a hand over his face. He felt like hell. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mom. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but did that make him weak? He was supposed to be a hero. The Spider-Man. But right now? Right now, he just felt like a kid. A scared, exhausted kid who just wanted to cry.
That feeling—it had been a long time since he felt it. Since Uncle Aaron died. Since Peter died. Since he first put on the mask and realized the weight it carried.
Helpless.
Betrayed.
Drowning.
Miles squeezed his eyes shut, forcing it down. No time for this.
Noise. Too much noise. His Spidey-sense buzzed, everything too bright, too loud. He staggered away from the streetlights, sticking to the shadows, trying to camouflage—nothing. He was too drained, too beat up.
He hadn’t felt pain like this since Kingpin. No—this was worse. He squinted at the city around him, waiting for his vision to adjust. His heart sank.
“This… isn’t my universe…” His voice sounded small, swallowed by the hum of the city. But the realization hit like a freight train. His universe—his home—was in danger. His dad was in danger. And he wasn’t there to stop it.
Miles stumbled out of the alley, searching for something—anything—that might tell him where he was. He was too tired to swing, too exhausted to even think straight. Every step felt like dragging bricks.
Then, the city came into view.
Skyscrapers loomed over him, lights flickering in a way that felt…off. Signs with words that didn’t belong. Buildings that weren’t where they were supposed to be.
Brooklyn? No.
Not Brooklyn. Not even close.
For the first time in a long time, Miles felt like a little kid again. Small. Lost. Terrified.
But Spider-Man gets back up.
Miles wiped his eyes, squared his shoulders, and forced his body to move. Pain be damned, exhaustion be damned—he had to figure this out. He had to find a way home.
Because the clock was ticking.
And he wasn’t gonna let his world burn.
“Ok… first things first, hiding the suit—”
Miles didn’t waste a beat. He snatched a hoodie off a laundry hamper by the stoop of a rundown apartment and grabbed a pair of loose shorts. With practiced haste, he stuffed his broken mask into his pocket, pulled the hoodie’s hood up over his head, and melted into the neon-drenched streets of this unfamiliar New York.
Every step was a reminder of his condition—his fingertips still stung, a burning sign that his healing factor was slowly patching him up. He had to find a safe spot, a place to crash and regroup. His mind flickered back to those late-night chats with Peter about what to do when you’re stranded or, heaven forbid, homeless—a conversation that, in the life of a Spider-Man, wasn’t all that uncommon. “Great, just great… now I’m homeless and lost in a universe that isn’t even my own,” he muttered under his breath.
As he limped along, wincing with every uneven step and the dull ache in his broken arm, a spark of an idea hit him like a lightbulb in the dark. The library—of course! What better way to do some undercover recon on this new universe without drawing any unwanted attention? But of course, a nagging thought followed: where in this twisted version of New York could he even find a library?
Miles squared his shoulders and pushed forward, determined to solve yet another mystery. The night was young, and even though every muscle in his body screamed in protest, he reminded himself that Spider-Man never quits—especially not now. Every step, every grimace of pain, was a step closer to figuring out where he was and how he’d get back home.
Its been what half an hour now? And man there wasn't really any progress..
Miles had been asking around for a while, but no one seemed to notice him—not even a nod from the busy New Yorkers rushing by. He was so worn out he could’ve easily curled up into a ball and let the tears flow, but he knew he couldn’t stop now. Mama was counting on him, and giving up wasn’t an option.
With what little strength he had left, Miles mustered up his courage and lightly tapped the shoulder of an elderly woman leaning against a lamppost. “Hey, ma’am… do you know where I can find a library around here?” he asked, his voice a mix of hope and desperation.
The old woman paused, her eyes softening as she regarded him. “Library, huh? Yeah, it’s a couple of blocks down on Elm. You can’t miss it, dear,” she replied with a gentle smile.
Miles nodded, feeling that small spark of hope ignite something inside him. With a final grateful nod, he adjusted his hoodie and started making his way toward Elm Street. Even though every step reminded him of his pain and the exhaustion that weighed him down, he kept moving.
As he neared the library, Miles pushed open the heavy door and was hit by that unmistakable smell of old books—a scent both familiar and, somehow, off. His Spidey-sense buzzed, half-mocking, half-welcoming: Safe new friends? Hello!
He wasn’t really in the mood to get tangled up in any extra drama. Without an ID or any proper docs in this universe, being noticed was a big no-no. So he flipped into his best camouflage mode, blending in like any other student or night owl. He sidled past the librarian with casual ease, making his way to one of the public computers.
Once he was sure no one was watching, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief, dropping the camouflage. Fingers still aching, he booted up the computer and began sifting through info. His mind couldn’t help but wonder: Did this universe have its own Spider-Man too?
First thing he looked up, naturally, was “Spider-Man. ” 0 results. His chest tightened, and his hands started to shake. He clenched his fists, trying to push the panic down, but it was hard not to feel a little lost. His voice barely above a whisper, he muttered to himself, “Okay, no Spider-Man. It’s fine... totally fine... I’ll figure something out.”
He swallowed hard and kept typing. Next search: Heroes . A lot of results. Mostly comics, movies, a few articles. He kept scrolling, more and more disheartened. Then— “Attacks on New York Mutant Heroes!?”
That grabbed his interest. Miles clicked on the video, but after watching it for a few seconds, he sighed. “Yeah, probably just some good CGI... Not what I’m looking for,”
he thought, rubbing his eyes in frustration. *Enough with hero stuff. Time to make an identity,* he decided. He glanced around, then huffed a little.
To be honest, he hadn’t done this whole "fake identity" thing before. Ganke was the expert in that department—not that it was for any weird reason, of course! It was just because an art contest wouldn’t accept people under 16. But that didn’t matter now. Ganke? Funniest dude he knew.
Man, he’d never thought he'd miss his roomate till now. ‘Wait—what if time works differently here? Like... what if this universe’s time is totally outta sync with mine?’ Miles shook his head and gave a slight groan.
“C’mon Miles... no time for spirals.” He though as he forced himself to focus again, took a deep breath, and started typing up his new life, piece by piece. Fake name—check. Fake hometown—check. Education, social security, job history... web of lies, baby. Gotta make it work. Now time to print stuff-.
April groaned as she sat in the corner of the library, balancing a stack of textbooks and a half-eaten sandwich. Just another day in the life of April O'Neil. Trying to catch up on schoolwork, catch up on life really, after days spent battling mutants and chasing after her brothers on their unpredictable, often insane adventures. Not to mention, having just gotten fired from yet another job for “not being a good fit.” Whatever that even meant.
At this rate, she was starting to think, maybe she could ditch school, and jump straight to the whole journalism thing. But no, she couldn’t give up that easily. Not when there were still adventures to share with her brothers—and still stories to break.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she searched for any new job listings—maybe something a bit more practical, especially in a city that had a lot of crazy stuff going on. Maybe she could even find something remote. Enthusiastic about the idea, she printed out an essay for school and leaned back in her chair, fidgeting.
’Today’s not the day to get stuck in a rut.’ She shuffled the papers around and, just as the printer whirred to life, someone bumped hard into her shoulder. “Hey! Watch where you’re going—” April snapped, ready to unleash a classic April O'Neil.
But then she looked up.
The guy who’d bumped into her looked rough—like, "went through a war zone and lost" kinda rough. Like he needed a nap and some serious medical attention. His hoodie was pulled up a little too far, his clothes were torn, and his mask—well, she couldn't help noticing his face was bruised up real bad- heck his forehead was bleeding, almost like he'd been through a real battle.
But it was the look in his eyes that had her pausing mid-word. His whole vibe screamed "I should not be here right now," and yet, somehow, he seemed oddly out of place in the quiet library. He blinked up at her for a second, rubbing his arm like he was trying to hide how much pain he’d just been in.
His hazel eyes always had this curious flicker to them, like he was wrestling with something on the inside. The sound of the printer finished, cutting through the tension in the air. And for a brief second, she and the guy just stood there, neither saying anything. “You good?” April asked, deciding to break the silence that felt thick enough to cut. “You look like you just got hit by a truck. Or a mutant.” The guy—yeah, he definitely wasn’t from around here—blinked twice, throwing the hoodie’s hood back and messy curly hair.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine ” he said, but there was clear doubt in his voice.
"Just... had a rough night." April eyed him suspiciously. ‘’ A rough night’’ she thought. Well that totally wasnt concerning.. "Sound like something straight of a novel" she teased, offering him a soft smirk trying to light up the mood- hopefully the guy would talk.
"What’s your story, huh?" "I—" he paused, looking unsure, eyes darting around like he was checking for anyone else nearby before continuing.
"I’m... just trying to figure some stuff out. You know how it is." Something about him seemed off—or rather, he seemed too normal for someone who looked who had just gone against Baron Draxum unarmed.
Maybe it was just the mood of the city, though. New Yorkers were usually rough around the edges, ready to ignore anyone who wasn’t part of their busy routine. But most people didnt look like a kid who got bullied into giving their lunch money or acting like the whole world was against them.
“Sure, yeah, the city’s got its fair share of ‘stuff,’” April said with a shrug. “I’m just here for a quick break from... well, everything,” she said, gesturing to the scattered papers on her table.
They were detailed in a way that she could tell he was probably trying his hardest to stay engaged at the moment, even if his thoughts seemed to be far from these walls.
“Right,” he said again, leaning casually against the desk. “Must be... nice, I guess. Doing... normal, regular things.” “I don’t know about that,” April quipped with a half-laugh. “Doing regular stuff is overrated. Trust me, with the adventures I’ve had lately, just sitting here to actually finish a paper feels like an achievement.”
She sighed and grabbed the printout from the tray. "Maybe you could teach me how to keep it together when everything falls apart." She didn’t expect a response or any insight. She just felt like saying it because, hey, it was true. The weird chaos she got herself into—she couldn't be the only one who felt like nothing ever kept still.
He hesitated for a second before a small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, sure. Life does that sometimes." Then he pushed off from the desk, wiping his hands absently against his hoodie.
"Anyway, I'm... I'm sure you’ll make it through. You seem pretty tough.” April raised an eyebrow, raising her relaxing slightly. Tough?if only he knew- she couldn't help but chuckle softly, he was a nice kid
"Thanks, you look pretty tough too- uhm..’’ April mused, she didnt his name ‘’I dont think i catched you’re name-’’
He hesitated, then offered a quiet, apologetic smile. "I'm Miles. Miles Morales," he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting his name was as much as he could manage right now.
April arched an eyebrow, a mix of concern and curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Miles, huh? You look like you've been through it. You sure you're okay? You seem all over the place."
Miles rubbed the back of his neck, managing a half-smile despite the evident pain. "Just one of those days, you know?’’
Oh boy did she-
April tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and leaned casually against a nearby table. "If you need a break or just someone to talk to, this library's got plenty of quiet corners. And if you're looking for some advice or anything—even job tips—I might be able to help. I'm April, by the way."
"Nice to meet you April" he replied, his tentative smile warming just a bit. He let out a chuckle "Thanks, April. I appreciate that."
The printer finally beeped as Miles quickly grabbed his papers. “I, uh, I should go. Got more... things to figure out.” And with that, he mumbled a quick, “Thanks ” and rushed off, disappearing back into the stacks.
April stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where he had been, her mind buzzing with questions. She shook her head. Weird, she thought. You met a lot of strange people in New York, but this guy seemed different.
But April was a curious person, and eventually, curiosity got the best of her. Those weird vibes kept gnawing at her, and despite how strange things had already been lately, she didn’t think she’d seen the last of him yet.
"Wonder what his deal is..." she muttered to herself, shoving her hands in her pockets to take out her phone.