Just to save you, I give my all.
A body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.
Mass, inertia, force, gravity, equal and opposite reactions. Miles understands it all.
“You can’t ask me not to save my father.”
He would remain an object in motion, that would stay in motion even if it meant flattening everything in his path.
_____________________
Miles is woken up by the feeling of his spidey senses screaming at him. danger danger danger danger
He’s met with Miguel O’hara. In his house.
Their eyes lock.
danger, danger, danger, run run run RUN.
“Morales.” He takes a step back, nodding slowly.
“Miguel.” His eyes soften. Miguel doesn’t move from his spot right outside his door. His shoulders are stiff– as they always are– and Miles can’t help but blink his tears away.
“Can we talk?”
He’s avoided Miguel ever since he’s saved his father. Other than sometimes seeing him in the halls of HQ when meeting up with his friends, they never interact. Only small nods, and waves from across the room.
“Okay.”
_____________________
Miguel holds his daughter in his arms, face either too wet from the never ending rain or the tears. He can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. He looks into her now closing eyes and feels as if he’s lost everything he’s ever loved.
Now he looks at Miles. A kid who saved everything he loved. The sun is shining and his eyes seem to glow. He hates it.
(It wasn’t raining that day.
But it should’ve been.)
_____________________
Miles knows everything Miguel’s done is because of toxic grief. He sees a similar pattern in deaths and automatically assumes that’s how it’s supposed to go. That it’s everybody’s story.
But it’s not Miles’. Could never be.
Miguel doesn’t sit when they get to Miles’ room, instead, he looks around. There are open sketchbooks, customized stickers, paintings, and Miguel can’t help but notice that for someone who saved an entire universe, Miles is very messy.
“You need to clean your room.”
Miles rolls his eyes and grabs a sketchbook. “yeah whatever tío.”
He emphasizes on the word, and Miguel grimaces, clearly annoyed by it. But he doesn’t say anything. Which is… unusual.
“Moral-” He stops himself, which is also unusual. “Miles. I’m sorry.”
The words don’t register at first. Miles almost doesn’t think they were said. But Miguel’s eyes are glossy and the look in his eyes says otherwise.
“I haven't forgiven you yet. But I think I will.”
Something in his chest flutters. It feels nice. It feels light. It feels like happiness.
“That’s okay, girasol.”
Sunflower.
(Miguel thinks Miles is too kind. Too considerate. Maybe that’s what makes him different. Maybe that’s why he’s a different kind of spider-man. Miguel wonders if he could be like that too.
He looks outside, at the small raindrops splashing onto Miles’ window. It’s raining.
Miguel Smiles.)
_____________________
Miles stands in front of his mirror, washing his hands.
Uncle Aaron
Miles stares back into the face of a 15 year old boy, wearing his mask, his hands stained with love, fear and everything he’s made of.
Did you see me Uncle Aaron? I did it.
_____________________
Peter holds him tight. Miles’ face buried in his chest as they listen to Mayday’s soft babbling next to them.
Miles thinks he had so many expectations for Peter because he wanted him to be like the one from his universe. But they have different stories, different lives.
“Sometimes” Miles starts. The words hurt. “Sometimes I wish you were gone, instead of my Peter. He would’ve taught me. He wouldn’t have betrayed me.”
If you stick around, I could show you the ropes?
Peter sighs, breath shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I would’ve defended you. I would’ve been by your side to the very end.”
Peter nods, burying his face in Miles’ shoulder, giving him a small smile. “I know. that’s why you’re the best of all of us Miles.”
(Miles waters a dying sunflower. It still glows, but it’ll take time for it to show it’s colors again. He will wait, and watch it grow to it’s full potential, comparing it to himself. And it will be worth it. Miles will shine again. )
_____________________
He sits next to Peni, examining a pair of Jordan 4s that only exists in her universe. His eyes light up as his hands trace them, smile widening more than it already has each second.
Peni doesn’t take her eyes off him, scooting closer and handing him a basket of video games.
“Miles..” she starts, gripping the basket tighter.
He barely looks over at her, instead feeling his new shoes.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” His eyes widen and he whips his head to look at her, her eyes are glossy, filling with tears and Miles can’t help but pull her into his arms.
Her shoulders shake and he feels his shirt get wet.
(God– she’s so young.)
“I want to forgive you, I really, really do. I know you didn’t mean it”
He holds her tighter, looking down to meet her eyes.
She’s just like him.
He doesn’t leave for a while, letting her explain each and every video game in her basket, and even talking about how her spider works.
(Miles glows, like the sun. He looks over to Peni, talking about what she loves and he notices that she just can’t seem to look like he does.
Her eyes don’t shine like they did when they first met, they’re more tired, more experienced. Miguel had called him a kid but maybe– maybe he’s glad he stayed one.)
_____________________
“looks sick, mate.”
Hobie is peering over his shoulder, checking out a drawing of him and Milo. they’re back to back, Miles looking at his father and Milo looking at Aaron.
“Thanks, man.”
He slings an arm over Miles’ shoulder. Getting comfortable, as always.
“You put these up yet?” Hobie says, his drawing now in hand.
Miles thinks of his alley, the one uncle Aaron showed him and nods.
“cool.”
(Hobie doesn’t push- never does. Always letting Miles create his own path, and waiting at the end of the line to see the final result.)
They talk for a bit, about their universes and their friends, until Hobie finally gets up, checking his phone (leaving his vest, right on top of Gwen’s.) and starts climbing through his window.
“You know I have a door right? My parents aren’t home, you can go through it.”
Hobie chuckles but simply salutes him
“See ya, hero.”
Miles raises an eyebrow, a small smirk creeping onto his face.
“Thought you didn’t like labels?”
Hobie doesn’t look back at him. Simply leaving the small smile on his face and wiping a web out at the nearest building.
“Maybe, you’re the only one deserving of it.”
_____________________
“Don’t call me that.”
“There you go.”
“You’re not helping Hobie.”
And he couldn’t care less. Because Hobie Brown– although being spider-man– wasn’t built to help. He destroys everything. He tears apart machines in the spider-society, he wrecks his guitar all the time, he killed the president, and cops.
This time isn’t any different. He hates taking orders, but Miles is different, nothing he does is for his own benefit. It’s always for someone else. So he’ll watch and he’ll stand by his side while he destroys and exposes the society for the monstrosity that it actually is.
(Miles shocks the barrier, Hobie smirks. The first line is drawn. No matter who tries to stop it, the drawing will be completed, and Miles– a beautiful mix of colors, and all their hopes and fears– will shine with it.)
_____________________
Porker sits on his bed, somehow wetting the sheets even though his hands are dry. (Miles does not understand these cartoons.)
He lowers his head and slowly pulls out an empty canvas, the back signed with the names of all his friends, and paint brushes, markers, and a new sketchbook.
“I’m sorry, Miles.”
Miles hums, flipping through the new sketchbook as he feels Porker’s hands wrap around his ankle.
(Miles doesn’t adjust him, nor does he tell him to move. He’ll be the last to tell anyone what to do.)
_____________________
Miles climbs through Milo’s window, as he always does and slips into the kitchen.
“Other-Miles… Hi.”
He turns around to find Uncle Aaron.
(He wants to run. He can’t face him yet, he’s not ready. Not yet.)
Miles doesn’t look him in the eyes, instead, looks around. “Is Milo here?”
Aaron shakes his head, and Miles immediately grabs his mask and jumps onto the ceiling, ready to leave.
“Kid. I know I’m not.. your, uh, Aaron.” He starts, and Miles drops down from the ceiling. He doesn’t know why. He should leave.
You’re the best of all of us, Miles. You’re on your way. Keep going.
“But I’m here for you.”
Miles can tell by the way he says it that he’s not used to saying things like this. He hates that he’s decided to say it to him. But he nods anyway.
(Miles hugs Aaron and looks him in the eyes for the first time, wiping the blood of his Uncle that has stained his hands for so long onto the other version of him.
He looks into his mirror that night, once again peeling his suit off. “I forgive you.” he says to the 13 year old boy staring back at him. The boy smiles.)
_____________________
Miles walks into the HQ meeting room to find everyone hunched over an old sketchbook of his. Miguel spots him first and tries to act like he wasn’t just evading his privacy.
Miles clears his throat and raises an eyebrow, hands on his hip.
“Ah!” Gwen screams and almost fumbles onto Hobie who moves out of the way, leaving her to fall on the floor. “Seriously?” He shrugs.
“Oh.. Miles!” Pav chirps up and starts skipping towards him, sneakily passing the notebook behind his back to Peter– who doesn’t take it.
“Look kid, you never show us your art! We’re spider-mans- uh, womans? Spiders. We have to do our own research.” Everyone face-palms at Peter’s bad attempt at a save.
(He breathes in and out, taking in the wonder that are his friends. He could never hate them, no matter what they did.)
“I’d like to see more as well.” Noir says nonchalantly, wind blowing through his cape. Where is that even coming from?
The room fills with agreements from all his friends and Miles thinks for a second.
“Okay.” he says, and starts putting a coat on. “Let’s go.”
Their eyes all widen before they all go to run to get their coats as well. Miguel smiles slightly and turns to go back to his office. When a web shoots the door shut. He whips his head to look at Miles, who’s cocking his head at him.
“Ay, tio. you coming?”
Miguel chuckles, and puts a coat on. This kid.
—--
When they’re at the gate, Miles climbs over it and hears a groan from Margo.
“Where are we going?” He doesn’t answer, instead, turns on his phone flashlight and heads into his place.
Hobie shoots him an impressed look, and turns his attention back to the wall.
Pav giggles and quickly runs to get a closer look.
It’s filled with everyone. People they’ve met, people they might meet in the future, and people they never got to meet.
They all go to carefully trace their hands over their own faces, bright smiles and beaming eyes and Miles can finally breathe.
“I forgive you.” he says in one breath.
Peter lets out a small choked out laugh. Gwen wastes no time and dives at him, pulling him into a tight hug. Hobie nods at him, his infamous smirk returning and Miguel doesn’t turn away from the wall, but Miles can spot a small crinkle at the corner of his eyes so he knows he’s smiling.
He gives into the bubbling feeling in his chest and he laughs, harder than he has in a while.
His friend's chatter fills up the room, a mixture of “woah”s, laughter and jokes.
The last line is drawn, and the picture is completed.
Maybe the stains on his hands never fully left, and maybe his heart is still full of scars that will never heal. Maybe he hasn’t fully made it up to Milo yet and he’s still got a long way to go.
But for now Miles is happy.
(And that is enough.)