I think i’m starting to love you.
“Miles!” Gwen rushed over, her voice laced with urgency.
Miles glanced up, removing his headphones. “Hey, Gwen,” he greeted nonchalantly.
"I know you haven’t properly met Hobie yet, but—" Gwen stammered, glancing nervously at Miles.
He sighed, already knowing where this conversation was heading. "Gwen, look," he began, his voice edged with frustration.
“I’m not meeting the guy who—" Miles was abruptly cut off as Hobie made his entrance. Miles inwardly bristled at the sight of Hobie, disliking how easily Hobie draped an arm over him without any sense of familiarity. There was something about the way Hobie effortlessly claimed Gwen’s attention, something that gnawed at Miles. He hated how effortlessly cool Hobie was, how kind, and how, in so many ways, he seemed to be everything that Miles wasn’t.
With a scoff, Miles put his headphones back on, attempting to shield himself from the growing tension. Hobie noticed the slight stiffening of Miles' posture but remained unfazed. Gwen, sensing the rising discomfort, excused herself, leaving the two boys alone.
“So, what’s the deal?” Hobie asked casually, his gaze piercing. “Why do ya hate me?” He stepped closer, massaging Miles’ tense shoulders. To his own surprise, Miles felt himself relaxing under Hobie’s touch, the tension draining out of him.
"Oh..." The word escaped Miles’ lips before he could stop it, barely audible.
“Such a pretty voice, no?” Hobie teased softly, his words lingering in the space between them. Miles sat silently, unsure how to respond, conflicted by the unexpected tenderness.
Then, Hobie’s hands wandered down the center of Miles' back, resting momentarily on his waist. Miles froze. "What are you—" he began, his voice a mere mumble.
“Shh,” Hobie whispered soothingly. “Let me take care of ya, mate.”
“But why?” Miles muttered, his face warming under the weight of his confusion. “You don’t even know me, and—I—I hate you! Do this with Gwen or Pavitr instead,” he stammered, his emotions getting the better of him.
“'S alright, mate. Hate me all ya want,” Hobie cooed, his voice gentle, almost amused. “I don’ mind. Just let me take care of ya, a’ight?”
Miles let out a deep sigh, giving in to the comfort of Hobie’s touch despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. He had never experienced someone willingly taking care of him before. The realization left him feeling vulnerable, unsure of what to make of it all. The urge to break down was there, but he fought to keep his composure.
“You’re quiet, mate,” Hobie observed. “You alright?”
Miles could only manage a silent nod, the weight of his thoughts suffocating him. “I—I should go home,” he muttered, his voice unsteady. “I’ll see you at HQ.”
His fingers trembled as he attempted to input his Earth’s coordinates into his watch. But before he could make his escape, his body gave out, collapsing to the floor as tears threatened to spill. The one person he had tried so hard to hate… cared?
After collecting himself, Miles returned home, the heaviness still clinging to him. He showered and sat at his desk, trying to lose himself in schoolwork.
"Miles, dinner's ready, kiddo," his father called from the kitchen.
"I’m not hungry, apá," Miles responded without looking up, rummaging through his belongings in search of his headphones. "I’ve got more schoolwork."
"Miles, you haven’t eaten in days," Jefferson noted, his tone filled with concern.
"Not dead, I’ll live," Miles replied flatly, "But I really need to finish this work. I can’t afford to fail, and I need to get better at Spanish. I don’t want to disappoint Mamì. Or you."
Jefferson hesitated before asking, "Are you being bullied?"
Miles froze, his breath catching in his throat. "What makes you ask that?" he asked cautiously, his fists clenching under the desk.
"I’ve seen the bruises," Jefferson said softly. "You come home black and blue most days."
Miles cursed himself silently. "I’m not being bullied. I just need to focus on my work."
His father lingered for a moment, clearly unconvinced, before retreating. "Your friends are here. I’ll let them in."
Miles let out a heavy sigh, wondering why they would come over, especially in the rain.
"Hey guys," he greeted, forcing a smile as Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie entered his room.
“You invited us for a sleepover, remember?” Gwen reminded him, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh… right," Miles chuckled awkwardly. "Well, make yourselves at home." He quickly excused himself to the bathroom, where he immediately retched.
"Miles, are you okay?" Pavitr rushed after him.
"I’m fine," Miles lied, holding his stomach.
"What, you pregnant or something?" Gwen teased with a laugh.
Miles shot her a deadpan look. “No.”
As the group settled in, Hobie’s quiet demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Gwen. "You're awfully quiet, Hobie," she teased.
"Just thinking," Hobie replied with a smirk, planting a kiss on Gwen's forehead.
“Don’t flirt in my house,” Miles sighed, his mind elsewhere. “Anyway, wanna go out for a swing?”
Later, as they swung through the city, Hobie found himself watching Miles. There was something about the way he gazed up at the stars, the rain falling on his face, lost in his thoughts.
“Hobie, you there?” Pav called out, breaking Hobie’s trance.
"Yeah, just thinking," Hobie replied, though his gaze never left Miles.
The following day, at school, things took a darker turn when Marcus Blackwell approached Miles, his grip on Miles' waist tight and possessive. Marcus forced a kiss on him, pulling him away from his friends, who remained unaware of the encounter.
Miles’ protests fell on deaf ears as Marcus dragged him to a secluded corner, assaulting him both verbally and physically. The bruises, both fresh and old, were a reminder of the torment he endured. Marcus made it clear that no one would believe Miles if he ever spoke out.
When Miles finally stumbled back to the group, Hobie was waiting for him. One look at Miles’ bruised face, and Hobie’s anger flared.
“He did this to you?” Hobie asked, lifting Miles’ chin gently. "I’ll kill him next time I see him."
"Please don’t,” Miles whispered, his voice barely audible. "It’ll only make things worse."
Hobie held him close, his protective instincts kicking in. Miles had never felt this kind of safety before, and it scared him as much as it comforted him.