Chapter 31
The classroom buzzed faintly with the scratch of pens and the low murmur of Mr. Halpern explaining gravitational force. Gwen sat in her usual seat near the window, eyes fixed on her notes—but her focus was elsewhere.
Three rows over, Miles was completely slumped in his chair, cheek smushed against the desk, lips slightly parted. Out cold.
Gwen blinked. Huh.
She nudged her pencil against the edge of her notebook, glancing at him again. He wasn’t pretending. He was actually asleep.
His hoodie was wrinkled, eyes shadowed with the kind of tired that no amount of coffee could fix. And despite the faint snore, he looked… peaceful.
Mr. Halpern droned on about vectors, but Gwen barely registered it. Her gaze softened.
When does he sleep?
Her blog post from the night before suddenly echoed louder in her head. She thought it had been dramatic—just her usual overthinking. But now?
Now she was watching it in real time.
Miles Morales, asleep at 11:15 AM in physics class, looking like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.
She bit the inside of her cheek. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach over and gently nudge him awake, just enough to keep him out of trouble—but she didn’t. She stayed quiet.
She didn’t want to push.
Not yet.
The bell rang eventually, startling Miles upright. He blinked in confusion, hair a little tousled. Gwen pretended to dig through her bag, not saying anything.
He looked at her across the room—half sheepish, half dazed—and she just smiled. A little tired. A little worried.
But not pushing.
The sky was washed in gold as Gwen and Miles made their way down the sidewalk outside school. The city hummed faintly around them, the quiet chatter of other students drifting off as they walked slower than usual.
Gwen glanced at him again. His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly, like the weight of his hoodie wasn’t just fabric. He was quieter than normal. Not in a moody way—just… tired.
Like always, lately.
“You okay?” she finally asked, keeping her tone light. Casual.
“Hm?” He blinked like he hadn’t realized she was talking. “Yeah, just zoned out.”
Again, she thought.
Gwen studied him as they waited for the light to change. His eyes had bags under them. His braids were looser today, probably hadn’t been redone in a while. And he hadn’t even touched his lunch earlier—just said he wasn’t hungry.
“You, um…” she tried to make it sound like a joke, “You kinda slept through half of physics again.”
Miles gave her a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did I? My bad.”
“You also bombed that math test. I thought you had that stuff down?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I did. I guess I just… messed up.”
That wasn’t like him. Miles never just messed up. He was sharp. Focused. Usually.
She wanted to ask more. She wanted to stop him right there and go “What’s going on with you?” But she didn’t. Instead, she smiled back, even though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You’re acting weird,” she said, bumping her shoulder gently against his.
“I’ve always been weird.”
“Yeah, but like, extra weird now.”
Miles snorted under his breath. “Guess I’m leveling up.”
The light turned green. They walked again.
But Gwen’s smile faded as she stared at the sidewalk.
He was unraveling, and she didn’t know why. All she knew was that he was pulling it off like nothing was wrong—until it really would be.
And she didn’t know how to fix something he wouldn’t even admit was broken.
Gwen sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by open notebooks, her laptop, and highlighters in six different colors. She chewed on the end of her pen, scrolling through the notes app on her phone for her physics summaries.
He didn’t ask. He never would.
But he needed help.
And if he wouldn’t talk to her about whatever was going on, then she’d still be there. In the ways he might not notice. In the ways that didn’t ask for anything in return.
She stapled together the neatly written class notes—color-coded, simplified, and peppered with little doodles in the margins (mostly of spiders with sleepy eyes). Then she stacked them with two other packets: one for chem, one for pre-calc.
She added a post-it to the top:
"You’ve got this. But in case you’re running low on brain fuel, I’ve got extra. -G"
After hesitating a second, she tucked it all into a plain folder. She also stuck in a pack of his favorite gum and a granola bar. And then—because she was Gwen—she folded a small square of paper into an origami spider and slipped it on top.
Later that afternoon, while Miles was still at his club meeting (or maybe somewhere else again, she didn’t ask), she slipped into the boys’ dorm hallway. Ganke answered the door, raising an eyebrow.
“Tell him it’s not a big deal,” Gwen whispered, holding out the folder like it might explode. “Just notes. And a snack. And maybe a nap coupon.”
Ganke tilted his head. “A what?”
She cleared her throat, a little pink in the cheeks. “It says, and I quote, ‘One free uninterrupted nap, redeemable at time of complete exhaustion, void if you don’t use it before finals.’”
“…you’re so corny.”
“Shut up and give it to him.”
He smiled and took it. “You’re good for him, y’know.”
“Yeah well,” Gwen muttered, tucking her hands into her pockets, “somebody’s gotta take care of him if he won’t do it himself.”
And with that, she turned and walked back down the hall.
There was a soft knock on Gwen’s door—barely there, almost like the person on the other side wasn’t sure if they had the right to knock at all.
She looked up from her laptop, surprised.
When she opened the door, Miles stood there, hoodie up, backpack slung over one shoulder, exhaustion written in every line of his face.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice a little hoarse. “Ganke’s got someone over and I just… I really need like… twenty minutes.”
Gwen stepped aside without a word and gestured to her bed. “You want the corner or the middle?”
He cracked the smallest smile. “Corner. Always.”
He set his bag down like it weighed a thousand pounds and kicked off his shoes. When he sat down on the edge of her bed, Gwen watched him hesitate.
“You sure this is okay?” he mumbled.
Gwen gave him a look. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have opened the door, Morales.”
He let out a breath, and then slowly laid down, curling onto his side. His shoulders relaxed immediately. Gwen moved to her desk, trying to give him space. But she heard the mattress shift again.
“You don’t have to move away,” he said quietly, half-asleep already. “It’s nice when you’re close.”
Gwen blinked, caught off-guard—but smiled. She returned to the edge of the bed, legs curled up next to him, book open on her lap.
A few minutes later, Miles was out cold.
He slept like someone who hadn’t in days, breathing deep and even, lashes casting long shadows on his cheeks. Gwen didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, just looked at him.
He always ran around saving everyone. Carrying weight no one else could see.
So yeah—she’d be his quiet place, his small piece of stillness. Just like he was hers, in the chaos.
She brushed a curl off his forehead and whispered, “Nap coupon: redeemed.”