Chapter 33
The sun hadn't risen yet, and Miles was already moving.
The villain Ganke called about wasn’t just any villain. It was Overload—some rogue tech-enhanced ex-merc with a body modded enough to make him half-machine. Rumor had it he could siphon electricity from the grid and discharge it like lightning. Fun.
Now Miles was staring him down on top of an old hydroelectric facility. Of course.
“You just don’t quit, huh?” Miles muttered, bracing as Overload charged another blast.
“Not when I know you’re still breathing, Spider-Man!” Overload snarled, his chest glowing with blue pulses.
A burst of light flared—and then everything exploded.
Miles hit the ground hard, groaning, suit sparking. His ribs ached, one of his lenses cracked, and he could taste blood in his mouth. But he got up. He always got up.
Hours passed.
It became a battle of strategy more than strength. Miles had to think faster, move smarter—using stealth, trickery, shadows, anything. Overload wasn’t holding back, and neither could he.
By the time he finally got the upper hand—shorting the villain’s power pack with a well-timed Venom strike and tossing him off-balance with a web-sling to the face—it was nearly evening. Miles stood panting, looking down at the unconscious, twitching heap.
It was done.
But he wasn’t okay.
He made it back to an alley near campus, limping, hoodie pulled low. Blood was crusted behind his ear. His suit, crammed into his backpack, reeked of burnt wire.
He got to the dorm unnoticed.
And spent the next hour in the bathroom mirror, cleaning wounds and wondering how many times a person could break and patch themselves back up before it stopped working.
“Okay, he’s not answering his texts. Again.” Gwen sat at the edge of her bed, phone in hand, thumbs hovering like she was about to try again. “I’ve sent four. FOUR. I sound desperate, don’t I?”
Amaya, sprawled on her own bed with a bag of cheese puffs on her stomach, peeked over. “You sound worried, which is fair. Miles doesn’t usually ghost like this.”
Gwen sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her stomach was tight. “He said he was going out last night, but then… nothing. No call, no update, not even a ‘good morning’ text. It’s been a whole day.”
“Still no word from Ganke?” Amaya asked, sitting up and brushing crumbs from her hoodie.
“I'm trying again,” Gwen said, and hit call.
Ganke [on speaker]:
“Gwen! Hey. Uh—still no sign of him. I’ve been checking the dorm and texting, but you know how he gets when he's... out there.”
Gwen:
“Ganke. He’s been gone all day. You’re telling me he’s just doing what?”
Ganke:
“I’m not saying that! I’m saying… he probably got caught up. Or he's lying low ‘cause he’s injured and doesn’t want us to freak out. Which, uh, is definitely working.”
Gwen:
“This isn’t funny.”
Ganke:
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m worried too.”
Gwen ended the call and leaned her head back against the wall. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest—Miles' exhaustion, his missed classes, his silence.
“Do you think something happened?” she asked Amaya quietly.
Amaya didn’t answer right away. “I think... Miles is strong. But even strong people can get knocked down. And if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow, we go find him. Deal?”
Gwen nodded. “Deal.” But she didn’t wait till tomorrow. She kept her phone under her pillow that night, vibrating with every imaginary buzz.
It was well past sunset when Gwen heard the softest knock on the dorm’s hallway door. She practically tripped over her shoes getting to it, heart jackhammering in her chest. She didn’t expect what she saw.
Miles.
He looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back. His hoodie was torn near the shoulder, his jeans scuffed and stained. There was a gash at his hairline and dried blood under one nostril. One of his eyes was slightly swollen. He swayed slightly under the hallway light, trying to smile.
“Hey,” he croaked. “Sorry I—”
Gwen threw her arms around him. It wasn’t a sweet hug—it was tight and trembling, like she was trying to hold him together. Then, just as fast, she pulled back and shoved his shoulder.
“You absolute idiot! What the hell, Miles? Do you even understand how scared I was? I thought—” Her voice cracked. “I thought something happened. I thought you were dead.”
Miles winced, not from the push, but the guilt. “I—I didn’t mean to disappear on you. Things got messy and I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“I don’t care what you look like!” she snapped. Her hands were trembling. “You don’t get to vanish. You don’t get to scare people who care about you.”
He took a slow step toward her, his expression soft. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You did!” Her voice cracked again. Her eyes shimmered. “You did, and I hate you for it.”
Then her breath hitched, and she broke. Tears spilled over, sudden and silent, and she turned and rushed back into the dorm, pushing past him before he could see the full collapse.
Miles stood frozen for a second, his own chest aching. Then, without hesitation, he followed.
Miles caught up to her just as she reached the stairwell, her shoulders shaking as she tried to wipe her tears away.
“Gwen,” he said gently. No answer. Just a sniff and a shake of her head.
“Gwen, please.”
She stopped. Didn’t look at him, just stood there breathing hard, like if she moved again she’d fall apart all over.
Miles stepped up behind her, slow and careful, like approaching a frightened bird. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Her voice was small when she finally spoke. “You scared me more than anyone ever has.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were gone, and there was nothing I could do. I kept checking my phone. I kept thinking—” Her voice cracked again. “What if this time, Miles doesn’t come back?”
Miles swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I didn’t mean to let you think the worst. But I’ve never had someone waiting for me before. I didn’t know how much that could hurt.”
She turned slowly, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.
“You’re not allowed to do that again,” she whispered. “Not without telling me. Not without… something.”
Miles didn’t say anything. He just opened his arms.
Gwen hesitated. Then she stepped forward and fell into them.
He held her tighter than he ever had before. One arm wrapped protectively around her back, the other gently cradling her head.
They didn’t say anything else for a while.
Just stood there, tangled up in each other, in a stairwell that smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and dust, hearts pounding in quiet sync.
Because for once, they didn’t need words.
They had each other.