Chapter 2
Miles was completely flustered. Hobie's words didn't relax him, and his tugging of Miles to his side only made him more nervous; half of Hobie's body was resting on him, making the air Miles breathed smell of alcohol, cigarettes and perfume; the mixture of strong and complex smells gave Miles a dizzying, drunken feeling.
The screams from the crowd on stage grew louder and louder.
"C'mon don't be shy-" "Hey man you gonna make some noise?" "What's the problem princess-can't open your mouth?"
Miles' breath began to catch, still not quite used to such occasions, and just then he felt a spray of hot breath on his ear: "Easy Bambi."
For a moment, Miles was strangely calm. He began to relax himself, as he most often did-
"Needless to say I keep it in check
She was all bad bad never the less--"
His voice overpowered all other noise at once through the mike, Miles closed his eyes and gradually sank into it, and when he realized that his voice was the only one in the room, Miles' momentum clearly began to wane; he realized that no one was around him.
That is, until the drums kicked in. Meanwhile the electric guitar began to follow his rhythm.
Once Miles realized that Hobie was right beside him, he finally closed his eyes with relief and started singing his favorite song out loud; this time nothing could stop him.
"You're the sunflower, you're the sunflower
........"
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He did it. And by did it, what Miles' saying was, he didn't embarrass himself on the stage or...ice the game, as his mom would say.
No, none of that happened.
The crowd seemed to be ignited like an explosion of enthusiasm, cheers and whistles like to overturn the roof, they kept throwing things at hand to the stage to express their enthusiasm, which made the two people performing on stage had to find ways to dodge while playing, wine glasses, cell phones, empty cans ...... and even a few pairs of underpants; the noise in the room seemed to be heard by the whole world. The noise in the room seemed like it could be heard by the whole world, but the most dominant sound was Hobie's electric guitar; under the influence of such an enthusiastic atmosphere Miles was also infected to join the party; for a while he was almost close to Hobie in the rhythm, the distance between them completely disappeared, his head resting on the nape of Hobie's neck, if he looked up slightly he could see the white tattoo pattern above his right eye; Miles leaned on Hobie's chest For a short while he could barely tell if the vibrating sound he heard in his ears was Hobie's heartbeat or the sound of his guitar.
Then, as if by agreement, Hobie suddenly lowered his head and met his gaze; they moved closer to each other as if fascinated, so close that their lips were just a centimeter away from touching - and then all this was interrupted by a small group of people who barged onto the stage.
The crowd was in a panic and the lights became muddled; Miles didn't understand what was happening at first until he asked "what--" and heard the man who had rushed on stage pointing in his direction, wearing a uniform similar to that of the police back in his world:"Hobart Brown--you're under arrest! Stay where you are, put your hands in the air!!"
Miles turned his head just in time to see Hobie shrugging his shoulders indifferently:"Well that's probably on me. I gather this illegal protest against the government this morning and, huh."
He lied. The Prowler knows exactly why he was list as wanted. But the boy doesn't know. Miles doesn't know, yet. He still naively believes that Hobie was wanted for organizing illegal protests, for his free will against capitalism, against the evil.
The boy doesn't know yet that, his companion was evil.
"Took'em a while to find me."Hobie clutched his guitar, his gear was still in the dressing room, and all he had with him now was -
Oh.
Hobie watched with some surprise as the boy shot spider webs from both wrists to glue the gun in the hands of his pursuer; Miles pulled off his mask at the first opportunity while revealing his uniform inside, a black suit with red web-like decoration, and he looks like he's bleeding from his armpits.
"So your first name's Hobart? Never see that coming--I thought it was just Hobie!" Miles briefly glued several of the men coming at them to the railing, and just as he was about to joke with Hobie with relief, Miles was shocked to find that the men had broken free of him and their entire bodies had begun to be covered in a black, sticky liquid-like substance; they had become taller, more agile and stronger. Miles began to realize what Lyla had meant by back up: as things stood they did need back up.
This is more complicated than Miles' thought.
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The Prowler laid a greedy eye on Miles.
Look at him, his boy, his Bambi, haven't got the slightest thought that he had found him the wrong man. Yet Miles trusts him. Trust him for no reason. He even relies on him--and all of Miles' intimate acts to Hobie ever since they met, all that just satisfied the Prowler's desire to be in control, to dominate.
Now the boy is protecting him. The Prowler Hobie started to wonder how Miles' gonna react when he finds out that this Hobie's not who he was looking for.
Will he trembling in anger, for being deceived? Or he's just gonna argue with him--
"Hey man--Look out!!"
Miles stopped one of the venom-possessed cops shooting tentacles toward Hobie; the electric current from his palm sent the other back a dozen meters, and Miles noticed that the black creature had a tendency to detach after being electrocuted.
That was good. At least he knew what to do - but there was no way he could take on, seven or eight of these opponents.
"Seriously man where's your uniform and web shooters--we really need'em now!!" Miles shouted towards Hobie in between firing currents; he didn't know why the other man seemed unconcerned, or if he already had a countermeasure. Miles hoped it was the latter; he was about to run out of both spider silk and electrical current.
Then he heard the sound of a guitar strumming, right behind him.
"Get behind me, sweetheart."
Miles felt someone tugging on his waist, and then a force pulled him back; Hobie was in front of him, and he was tall enough to cover Miles' entire body tightly. Miles watched Hobie tweak the guitar strings with the plectrum and the wires to which the guitar was attached, and suddenly he knew what the other man was going to do -
A huge wave of sound accompanied by the sound of electricity erupted in the room, and Miles had to plug his ears; the seven or eight black creatures in front of him began to emit sharp and creepy screams; several clouds of black liquid wriggled and gradually separated from the human body.
When they finally separated completely, the policemen fell to their knees and clutched their heads in pain; Miles was briefly robbed of his vision by the dazzling electric light, so he did not notice the scene: blood began to flow from the men's bodies, their eyes, noses and mouths. Their faint pleas for mercy were completely drowned out by the sound of the guitar until they gradually lost their breath.
Hobie admired the scene before him, pulling out a carefree smile; chaos and death were the most moving music to him; the guitar's sound slowly stopped after he finally confirmed that only two of the men present were still breathing. Miles opened his eyes, and all he could notice was that the men had fallen. And he naively thought they had only been knocked unconscious by Hobie, not killed.
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Hobie looked back at Miles, who was protected behind him, after everything was over: "Thanks for saving my life there Bambi. You really have something in you."
Miles' eyes still fell on the few people on the floor, he wanted to ask Hobie what was going on, but the other man interrupted before he could speak: "So you wanna finish what we about to do on the stage?"
Miles was a bit overwhelmed by the response: "W-what?"
He didn't understand what was happening now: Hobie clutched both his wrists and pushed him all the way down to the drums behind him; Miles' body hit the drums and made a loud noise, loud enough to embarrass him, and then Hobie kissed him.
Hobie kissed him with an aggressive gesture. His assertive attitude made it impossible for Miles to resist, as a matter of fact he could barely think straight. miles could taste alcohol, smoke a-and blood.
"Ouch--wait--stop! Listen can you just... . . stop for a second?"
Hobie bit him painfully. His lip studs slashed hard across Miles' lips with the kiss, and Miles could be sure the other man had cut him; scratched, bited, maybe both, otherwise there was no explanation for the stinging in Miles' lower lip and the salty taste of blood in his mouth.
This is ridiculous.
Miles almost choked; Hobie kissed him too hard, and the force of his wrist press made it impossible for Miles to break free; his waist was pinned to the drum, and now Miles was 100 percent sure it had left its mark on him. Maybe it was starting to fill with blood and turn blue.
"H-Hobie wait--stop!!!"
Hobie wasn't going to pay attention; he wanted to ignore Miles' resistance, wanted to push harder to make Miles lose his strength to resist completely; or he could use some "little trick" to make Miles pass out - but he stopped for a brief second. It was a rare mercy from the dictator: "Why."
Miles couldn't wait to get the air into his lungs so he could finally breathe: "What...?"
"Why you want me to stop?" Hobie inquired, staring at him patiently, and Miles felt uncomfortable with such a stare; he chose to distract himself by staring at the white tattoo above Hobie's right eye:"I-I...it's just, just--look don't you think this is kind of a hurry? Like we don't even --there's no sign shows that we have this--there's no sign says that we'll be doing THIS !! Why would you kissed me at the first place?"
"Coz I wanted to. Plus you need to be more honest when you're with me."Slowly, Hobie stuck his knee between Miles' legs and lifted it little by little; a movement that made Miles blush. He felt a stinging sensation in his neck: Hobie bit him hard: "Your erection implies something else, Bambi."
"Need any help with that?" Hobie mocked at the boy. He pressed himself against Miles' exposed skin: Miles' uniform had been partially torn at the shoulder in the fight just now - and that made it easier for Hobie. He rubbed against that skin if anything, deliberately letting his braid hang down and sweep across Miles' face.
"I know you like me. And if you don't say it, I'll just keep kissing you until you do."
"Alright alright--! I'll admit okay? I-I um... I heh heh, heh...man this is--"
"Say it Bambi, or I'll continue--"
"Okay okay fine! I-I kind of..kind of have this thing for you like... I wouldn't say love at first sight but... I-I kind of like you since we met you know...you're cool with your guitar, your mask, and helping me break the barrier...not to mention you were always standing by my side, even when--Are those enough? Can you like, let me go..?"
That's enough. For now. The Prowler got more than he had expected. He now knows that the other guy Miles' looking for had known him for a while; he has always been supportive, and probably helped Miles on some...crisis, when no one was by his side.
That was stupid. If the Prowler were Miles' guy, he would never have done so. He's gonna push things further, leaving Miles alone and helpless--secretly of course. Then he'll try to break the bond between Miles and anyone he's close to. He'll sneak up on his lonely Bambi, and lure Miles into joining him.
"You wanna join me? Bet we can make our own team."Hobie carefully rubbed his thumb across the wound on Miles' mouth; he deliberately increased the intensity, making sure the process was painful enough for Miles to remember, while making sure his finger was stained with blood.
"Ouch--" Miles gasped, "I thought you said part of the meaning of being Spider-Man is your own independence, and you don't need a team?"
"Spider-Man, huh." Hobie repeated the title thoughtfully, and he continued to speak drily :"Well, I changed my mind after seeing you. I like you, can you blame me for that?"
Hobie stopped before he pushed Miles too hard; he was always a patient hunter: "You did good, though. You were tender, gentle, letting me control everything, the rhythm..."
Miles' face continued to redden; just as he made a sound of protest Hobie suddenly released him: "I mean your song."
Hobie watched as his prey began to grow impatient and flustered, to which he pulled out a satisfied smile, his lip studs reflecting the twinkle in the light: "And your kisses' not bad, too.
"Wow, haha.... . ha, umm. . so-" Miles seized the moment to escape Hobie's grasp; he reached for the backpack he'd brought with him from the 1610 universe, as he'd just remembered the note HQ had given him before he'd arrived-
"You know I've been noticing something about you--"
Hobie came up the moment Miles' hand touched the backpack; he looked into the open pocket and was caught off guard by what he pulled out of it:"What is this, huh?"
"Nothing!! It's nothing--look can you give that back--"
Hobie got his sketchbook. And it looks like he's not gonna give it back.
That's...strange. Hobie's like, he's the most respectful person of freedom and privacy, and he's the last guy who would do things like stealing someone else's property and go through it without permission.
Miles' spider sense went off again. But as usual, he ignored it.
—————————TBC—————————