"Hey, you queer?"
"I hate labels, and I like me a snog with anyone. I also hate fucking homophobes." Hobie leaped towards the Ketosis (I know, New York is a weird place, okay), who put his hands up comically.
"Wait! I can’t fight you during Pride Month, I’m going to get cancelled and lose my followers."
Hobie looked over his shoulder at Miles, who was already doubled over and hysterically laughing. We don’t talk about the baby powder incident.
"This place is bonkers." Followed by the jingling of pins and chains, in a move so quick it was blurry, and the Keto man was unconscious on the ground.
And that’s how Miles found out he had a chance with Hobie.
Not that he was interested. It was just good to know.
***
Miles admired the punk from the day they met. At first, he thought it was jealousy. After all Hobie was everything Miles wasn’t, a confident rebel who didn’t give a fuck what others thought of him. During their time fighting the Spot, he found out how caring and loyal Hobie could be, despite his tuff attitude, and a warm feeling settled itself into his chest whenever he thought about the older boy.
In the following months the betrayal of the spider gang was still raw and although on friendly terms with them, he was the one and only Spiderman in his New York once more. With one exception. Hobie Brown would occasionally use his DIY goober to swing by, and Miles didn’t mind at all, they would patrol the city together or just hang out and it was a nice break from the routine.
Hobie hadn’t come by in weeks.
Bouncing his leg, Miles scribbled in his sketchbook, periodically looking at the night sky through his dorm window. They never made plans, but it surely had been a long time. Or was it? After all he was not entitled to the other spider’s time. However, he couldn’t help but feel restless, as not being part of the spider society, meant he had no means to contact other unierses.
With a sigh, Miles flipped through the pages, where countless versions of Hobie smiled deviously at him, as if they knew something he didn’t. Yes, he drew the punk to the point he had his features memorized and what about it? Miles kept telling himself he was just a good reference. The details of his outfits, his sharp features, the colorful aura he radiated, were all imprinted on the backs of Miles’ eyelids. In a friendly way of course. Trying to scrub the image of Hobie’s lips from his mind, he threw the sketchbook across the room, hitting Ganke as a result.
“Dude, watch it! It’s not my problem your crush ditched you.” A balled up sock flew at Miles’ head, who caught it in the air with a frown.
“I’m just worried about my friend!”
“Whatever definition of friend you want my boy.” Upping the volume of his videogame, his roommate drowned out any complaint.
On a whim, Miles snatched his jordans from where Ganke had left them and headed out of the window and onto the building’s wall, careful not to be spotted. It was the dead of night and the sticky day air had given way to a cool breeze. Walking between the windows, Miles headed up to the roof. The area was restricted, providing him with the solitude that severely lacked in college dorms.
The city beneath him glimmered in neon colors as Miles sat onto the edge taking it all in.
“Pretty, innit.”
A strong hand caught the back of his hoodie, preventing him from toppling over the edge.
“What the- Hobie!” Turning his head, Miles came face to face with the punk. Hobie winked, his eyebrow piercing shining with the movement, followed by a flash of pain in his eyes and his face twisting in a wince.
“Hobie?” Miles gave himself a moment to look at the other boy. Something was wrong. The familiar lanky frame was hunched over, the hand that wasn’t on Miles’ back clutching the side of the leather vest.
“How ya doing, love.”
Hobie’s knees buckled, and he slumped on the ground, sending Miles into panic mode. He knelt next to the punk, hovering his hands over the dark and sticky fabric of his clothes.
“What did you do?”
A raspy chuckle was all he got in response.
Miles needed to gain access to the wound and Hobie’s elaborate outfit was in the way. Trying not to think too much about it, he started unbuckling and untangling the pieces, making his way to soft skin.
“I would have taken it off myself if you asked nicely.” Their eyes met and Miles had to forcefully look down, because now was not the moment to get flustered.
Tearing off the final layer, a wound the size of his palm was revealed. The cut looked clean which was good. As far as any of this could be good.
Waves of relief and fear washed over Miles. Relief that Hobie was alive, that he came, and fear that he could be gone if they didn’t do something.
“Sorry I was gone.” The seriousness in Hobie’s voice pulled him out of the trance.
A gloved hand found its way to his, the rough leather contrasted the softness of the touch.
“I’m just glad you came.” And he was.
Slipping his hand out of the others, Miles put pressure on the wound, apologetically smiling at Hobie, when he winced.
“No Miles, you deserve an explanation.” Sucking a breath through his teeth, Hobie locked his dark eyes on Miles’.
“I’m not much of a romantic, not much of anything nice actually. And you… You are a ray of sunshine and I want to be selfish and have you for myself.”
Miles’ head was spinning from the adrenaline, his hands were covered in blood, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. Allowing yourself to be loved was a leap of faith and right now he felt like the first time he dared to jump off the edge, in the beginning of all this. Being Spiderman was never going to be easy, it was erratic, bloody, it was a huge responsibility.
And he finally found someone to share it with, someone to share the real Miles with.
“Fuck it.”
He leaned and the distance between them was gone, like it never was supposed to be there. Dry lips, a piercing catching between their teeth, a sigh of relief. The moment felt like an eternity of exploding colors, a singularity of understanding.
“You also make me want to be selfish. And I like it.”
In this Us there was a place for I. They were not just spidermen, they were Hobie and Miles.
This time Hobie was the one to pull Miles in. It was a soft, chaste kiss, filled with unsaid words. They would have all the time to talk later, Miles realized, as reality started to seep back into existence.
“We need to go to a hospital.”
“With that shit healthcare system you have? I ain’t giving a quid to the government.”
Ganke was going to kill him.
“My room it is then.”