Baby I'm a wreck
Some nights, Miles thinks he hates the mask. Hates the responsibilities, hates the injuries, hates how it’s not really his.
He goes to his bathroom to peel his suit off, staring into the face of a 13 year old boy, wearing another man’s suit, uncle Aaron’s blood on his hands.
Miles tries to wash them for him.
“I’m scared.” the boy says, brown eyes that have seen too much widening. You’re just a kid. He wants to say. Instead, he hums in acknowledgement, and rubs harder.
(The blood never comes off– Not fully– but one day the boy will learn to hide it with his suit, only remembering it’s there when he looks in the mirror. Miles is terrified.)
_____________________
“If you stick around, I could show you the ropes?”
He agrees.
Miles thinks Peter should’ve been more specific.
He hates the mask.
_____________________
Miles thinks it’s not fair that Peter gets to bring Mayday everywhere. Especially when he uses her to influence people. He thinks it’s not fair because it works.
“You’re the reason I had her, okay?!”
and oh, Miles is tired. He’s tired of being lied to, he’s tired of not being able to save people, tired of living by everyone else’s rules. But Peter taught him everything he knew. So he listens, because it’s hard to say no.
Maybe that’s one thing all Peter’s have in common.
So Miles holds Mayday- and is absolutely terrible at it, but Peter laughs, so for now, it’s worth it.
(He lets her warmth soak through his fingers. The warmth of a girl who was meant to be like him. He doesn’t hate it- no, he could never. It feels nice.)
He looks back at Peter’s smiling face, he wants to laugh, to teasingly tell him that it’s not fair his daughter’s so convincing. That he can use her cute face to influence people and it works.
But Peter’s watch lights up.
“We have your location-”
“No, no no. You do not, have my location-”
He hands Mayday back to him, tugging on the floor again to escape. His hands are stained with his uncle’s blood. Blood that has never washed off and they hurt. They hurt from the warmth of all the people he loves and Miles wonders how much more it has to hurt before it stops. He tries not to think of her small hands, and big eyes.
He tries not to compare them to his.
It almost works.
_____________________
Miles doesn’t know what to think of earth-42. It’s like his but everything’s so different.
His uncle is alive here. But he’s not the uncle Aaron he knows. He ties him to a punching bag– the same one he taught him to use– and his eyes aren’t kind. They aren’t naturally glossy and they don’t contain the kind of love his uncle’s did. He doesn’t smile like him either. But he takes one look at the “Rest In Power” written above his dad’s head and he knows why.
His house is different too. Everything looks the same but he hits his foot so many times at misplaced objects. They’re all just reminders he doesn’t belong.
Miles is different here too. His doppleganger is the prowler. He has his mami’s accent, but he’s not like her. Instead of treating his wounds and looking worried he presses his gauntlet next to Miles’ head. Claws out and ready to hurt him.
Miles looks past him, into the eyes of a dead man. A man whose blood has been on his hands for a very long time and decides he needs to get out there. So he does.
Maybe- in another universe, Miles would’ve said something like “don’t watch the mouth, watch the hands”. But in that universe, Miles’ uncle wouldn’t have died, in that universe, his friends wouldn’t have betrayed him, in that universe, Miles’ dad wouldn’t be destined to die.
So Instead,
“Fuck off.”
Sparks fly and the chains explode.
He looks into the eyes of a boy who looks just like him. Instead of a high top, he has braids, and Miles thinks they look sick. Instead of soft ones, his eyes are cold, and Miles is reminded exactly why he’s doing all of this in the first place.
He needs to save his father.
He can’t end up like the boy with the braids.
_____________________
“You were never supposed to get bit! You’re a mistake”
Miles grits his teeth, because he feels he won’t survive if he doesn’t.
“I’m not.” , he doesn’t say. But he should’ve.
_____________________
Most people would be more freaked out at seeing a clone of themselves, but after everything Miles 42 has been through, it doesn’t faze him.
Well, Almost.
After his dad died, a lot changed. He got colder. His dad had died when he was too young, too young to remember how to care, how to feel something other than anger and sadness.
He stands at his dad’s grave, head down. This can’t be it, he thinks. But he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t allow himself to. He promises he will though. He looks back at his younger self, the one who still has his dad, the caring, creative boy he left but promised to pick back up when he got over it. The one he lied to, because he will never ever be ready to be over it.
So now that the young boy stands in front of him– The boy he should’ve been– with light in his eyes, electricity crackling in his palms, a (very ugly) high top, and creased Jordan 1’s, he’s reminded that he’s not ready.
He stares into the eyes of his younger self, now older, and he feels jealous.
Sure, the boy looks roughed up; with deep claw marks in his left shoulder and his tight ass onesie almost ripped to shreds, he looks angry, betrayed, but he still has that light in his eyes.
A light that went out in Milo a long time ago.
He thinks it’s stupid, to be jealous of himself. But this boy is not him, he can’t be.
The boy says
“Fuck off.”
And Milo decides he wants to kill him. It’s not fair that he still has his dad, that he has something to fight for, that he looks just like the boy he left at his father’s grave.
He’s not ready to forgive himself yet. He’s not ready to pick himself back up.
(No- not yet.)
He can’t.
He throws the first punch.
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“You’re the best of all of us Miles, you’re on your way.”
“I see this spark in you! It’s amazing! It’s why I push you.”
“It’s a leap of faith Miles. That’s all it is. A leap of faith.”
Sometimes Miles forgets these words were said. He grips them so tight. Too tight. They slip out of his fingers as fast as they went in and he has no way to get them back. He wants to tattoo them in his brain. To tape them onto his palms so he never forgets. But he can’t.
All he can do is keep going.
_____________________
Miles looks out to his city. His city. They look up at him, eyes wide.
He’s just a kid.
But Miles couldn’t care less. His dad is safe.
His mami almost passes out realizing he’s spider-man, sure, but they’re safe. And he’ll never lose them again.
He turns around to nod at Hobie, who nods back, with a big smile.
Miles hadn’t known why, but Hobie’s been there since the beginning. Silently warning him.
He turns to Margo, who smiles back at him as well.
Then Pav, noir, Peni, even Peter B, and finally Gwen
She avoids his gaze, pretending to be fiddling with her fingers, full of dust. He slowly walks up to her. He gives her a sad smile.
He could never hate her. He loves her too much for that. But he’ll probably never trust her again. He wants to though, more than anything.
Maybe that’s something all spider-people have in common.
Gwen hesitantly hugs him. Tighter than the first time she saw him. He pats her back and she shakes. She’s so fragile. Smaller than Miles in his arms.
She doesn’t think she deserves this. The warmth. Not at all. But she gives in anyway.
(Maybe– just maybe, one day Miles will convince her she does.)
__
When he gets home, he has a lot to explain. He doesn’t go into detail though. He doesn’t tell his parents what Miguel said to him, How a whole universe's worth of spider-people chased him because he wanted to save his father.
They hold him anyway.
He insists that everything needs to go back to normal, so they watch a movie about spies.
Eventually, Miles falls asleep. His mom's hands holding his cheek. It takes everything in him not to act upon his spidey senses and grab her hands.
He feels her shaking, but he doesn’t open his eyes.
“You have to stay safe mijo.” She whispers, Miles gulps, but she doesn’t notice.
“Miles Gonzalo Morales…” her pinky traces his nose, and she presses her forehead to his.
Miles thinks she knows he’s awake, there’s no way she can’t at this point.
“Never make me write it on a tombstone.”
She sobs, and Miles can’t help but squeeze her hand. His dad– clearly overhearing, leans further into the two. Eyes squeezed shut.
(Miles wakes up later, he stares down at his parents. Not wrapping his head around the fact that at one point, his dad could’ve died.
He thanks God it never happened, he doesn’t know what he would do. What his mom would do. And he’s glad he’ll never need to find out.)
_____________________
Miles climbs through Milo’s window, his eyes puffy from crying but a small smile on his face.
He hears Aaron-42 and follows the voice to the living room.
(He never looks into his eyes, doesn’t think he needs to. It’s not his uncle Aaron. It’s not this man’s blood on his hands.)
MIlo’s leaning against the counter, holding a part of his prowler gear.
Miles runs– Because it’s built in him to do so– and pulls him into a tight hug. Gonzalo doesn’t push him away. Instead tears form in his eyes.
“I saved him. Thank you.” He hears Miles whisper.
He looks out the window where he can see his dad’s mural, and nods slowly.
“yeah.” The words roll out smoothly on his tongue. It tastes like something familiar. It goes down his throat and spreads through his veins.
He looks back into the eyes of the boy he should’ve been, the boy he’s going to start being.
He finally recognizes the feeling.
Forgiveness.
(Milo goes to his father’s grave to tell the boy it’s time. He never sees the boy in Miles ever again, instead he only appears when he looks in the mirror. He smiles at the mural for the first time. And it seems- it seems to smile back.)
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It’s not that Miles never thought he’d never see Gwen again, but he’s still surprised when she visits him.
She’s changed though. Not as out-going, as comfortable. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the edge of his window, she avoids his parents and no longer calls them by their first names.
But she’s more honest. She tells him everything and anything, even things she’s never admitted to herself.
Today, they sit on his bed, her shoulder on his and she watches him sketch.
“You’re good.” She says softly, watching him.
He gives her a lopsided grin and hums in agreement.
“I’m sorry.”
He lifts his head up from his drawing. It’s not a secret that Gwen regrets what she’s done to Miles, even he knows, but it’s the first time– Since the day it all happened, that she’s officially said it.
Miles doesn’t know what to think.
He nods. “Yeah.”
Her shoulders shake and she looks back at his drawing, cracking her fingers.
“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
Miles smiles, sadly.
“Maybe.”
They don’t say anything for a long time.
Gwen leaves her jacket on his chair, he knows it’s an excuse to come back. And he almost can’t suppress the widening grin on his face seeing it there.
(He could never hate her. Maybe he’s too kind, too considerate. But maybe that’s something all Spider-people have in common.)
_____________________
Sometimes Miles thinks back to what Miguel said.
He used to believe it, yeah.
But it’s hard to think of yourself as a mistake when two little kids stick small home-made spider-web stickers on your cheeks. When a local florist gives him a custom bouquet of flowers in his colors. When they call him sunflower, kiddo, hero and make him promise he’ll take care of himself.
He’s not a mistake.
Miguel was wrong.