Chapter 2
It had been weeks since Miguel had started watching you.
He couldn’t help it. To think someone was this interested in his face was a comfort. Miguel noticed when you would jolt, right when he pulled a feed on you. You knew you were being watched, but it seems like you couldn’t figure out how. He began to memorize your routine, eating habits, clothes you’d wear on specific days. Miguel knew it was wrong, so he didn’t tell anyone. He then opened your file to see what you were up to.
–
At the current moment, you were standing in your living area, painting another masterpiece. It had been awhile since you had those glimpses, so you focused on refining your favorite pose of his. The same one you've been recreating since the first time the ‘audience’ was watching. As a joke, you’d sometimes call out and ask for its opinion on things. It would never respond but it was fun nonetheless. After the first week of calling out, you started to think you were crazy. You were talking to a feeling of eyes watching and painting a man you’ve never seen.
You are painting a man you’ve never seen.
You suddenly stop the brush strokes and look at the man, his face half finished.
“Who are you?” You say, staring. “Who could you possibly be? Where are you? Are you real? Please be real.” You look longingly at the mysterious man. Why were you seeing him? Are you hallucinating? Are you sick? You had to be, to keep painting him. To be in love with him.
You felt alone in this great big city. No friends, no boyfriend, nothing. You had many failed dates from various apps. Many guys wanting flings or something not serious. But most of all, they were boring. You don’t know what qualified someone to be exciting, but none of them were. They were attractive, sure, but not breathtaking. Not like him. He’s ruined normal people for you.
You put down your brushes on a coffee table, the table scattered with other partially cleaned brushes, cups of water and towels. You were littered with paint stains, on your shirt and skin. You're more than sure that there was some red acrylic on your face. Around you were the paintings of him, many large and taking up considerable space. It's taking considerable restraint not to spend your whole paycheck on canvases and paints just for him. It's taken even more not to paint him on your walls.
As you look at the portrait of him, you are filled with an overwhelming ache. Something has always been missing in your life, and it was him. You long to be with him, stand near him, breathe the same air as him. But no. He’s not real. It never was, was he? This is your imagination, isn’t it? You begin to cry, softly.
You’ll never see him. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not.
This epiphany brings you to your knees. You’d give anything for him to be here. Somewhere. Even knowing he was across the world would give you comfort.
A glimpse of the man appeared. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone.
–
Miguel couldn’t take it anymore. To see you cry over him, silently beg the art to be real, it was too much to bear. He looks down at his watch and swipes a few times before an orange polygon vibrates to life.
“Whatcha doin?” A small hologram of a woman appears on his shoulder.
“Business.” Miguel states, matter-a-factly. “Don’t bother me for a while. Don’t tell anyone I’m gone. Keep everyone out of my office.” He has a gruff face on.
“Uh huh, mhm, why?” Lyla asks with a knowing smile.
“No reason. Just do it.”
“Just do it… what?”
“Just- Just do it… please.” Miguel looks like he winces at the last word, still looking stoic otherwise.
Lyla smiles wide. “Okay Mr. tough guy, Mr. ‘I’m too cool to admit I have a crush’, Mr-”
“Lyla.”
She giggles and then waves him off. “Be sure to take a sample of her though, it’ll help with the research on her.”
“That's what this mission is.”
“I thought it was for ‘no reason’?”
Miguel walks through the orange portal into an alleyway. He knew that in an hour was your next shift. Your bosses always stuck you with closing. How cruel. Miguel would wait for you to be free though, he’d wait any amount of time for you. Miguel willed his suit off to reveal his casual clothes.
Since he had an hour to spare, he thought that he would wander for a bit. He wants to go directly to your apartment but it’d be creepy. Just showing up as if you knew you were there and where you lived. He did but that's not the point.
After wasting the hour away, Miguel b-lines it to your coffee shop. He knew he couldn’t go in, at least not yet. You knew his face far too well. That thought made his heart swell. There's someone out there that loved his face, the one that, at times, he couldn’t stand. Miguel had done so much to regret, things he had to do but made him feel awful. Miguel paused outside of your quaint little café.
Did you like him, or the idea of him?
A chill ran down his spine. You loved his face, that much was evident. But would you like him? His personality, his habits, likes and dislikes. Was this a mistake? Should he just watch from afar? The last time he got involved with something he longed for, an entire universe collapsed. Would this be different? Before he knew what he was doing, he backed away from the shop and into an alleyway. Coward.
Instead of facing you, he hid in the dimming alley. Miguel knew that your shift was going to be 5 hours, it was always 5 hours on Thursdays. So, he waited. Occasionally, he’d sneak a peek through the large window of the café. There you’d be, taking orders and making drinks. You seemed off though. Melancholy. No doubt from your minor outburst just a few hours prior. No one asked about it though. How cruel.
Once the clock hit 9, you were gone. Miguel looked through the window one final time before started to look for you. He willed his suit on and began to web himself forward. You weren’t on your usual path home. That’s concerning, you always took the shortest way home. Small panic started to bubble in Miguel's stomach.
After 10 minutes or so, he found you. Unharmed, thankfully. You were walking down a long street that Miguel has never seen you on. Your stride was quick and unsure, turning into a rundown store. Was it a spirits shop? He didn’t take you for a drinker, but we all indulge from time to time. 5 minutes go by and you exit with a case then you walk on your normal path home. It was late, much later than you should be out. Miguel was never on board with you walking home at 9 at night, but it's nearing 10 now.
Miguel watched you from the rooftops, dipping in and out of streets, before you turned into another alley. As you walked the final stretch before making it onto your street, you were met with 4 men.
“Hey, baby. What were you doing out so late?” One of the men asked in a sleazy tone. He walked up to you slowly as the over 3 men circled around you. Your senses were suddenly heightened. Danger. You're in danger. You noticed movement above you, but you could barely register it as the lead of the men grabbed your wrist. You dropped the case of beer and it shattered upon impact.
“Why don’t you take a stroll with m-” The man wretched out in pain as a large gash appeared on his back. He stumbled back, letting you go. The other men looked like they were on alert before they too were on the flood, bloodied. There was a blur of dark blue and red that you just couldn’t follow. You looked around frantically but you just could track him down. The blur figure then shot out something orange and stuck them to the walls, immobilizing them. Orange.
You know that orange.
You spun around wildly, trying to find him again. Just then you found him, a man in a Spider-Man akin suit, dark blue and red. What wasn’t just a man. It was him. He’s real. He’s here! He looked at you before shooting another web, escaping. No, no, no! Come back, please come back!
You dashed after him, trailing the mysterious man on foot as he swung through the air. You were never athletic, but you were then graced with a stamina you’ve never felt before. You had to find him, to see him. You called out to him desperately, the man looked at you briefly before stopping atop a rooftop. You looked for a fire escape before climbing it with more force than you've ever exuded.
There he was. The mysterious man. The one you’ve been obsessed with for mouths. The one you’ve painted countless times. He stood there staring at you through his mask. He was larger than you had thought, towering over you. He looked like he could snap you with ease.
“It's you,” you said in amazement. You slowly walked up to him, examining him as if he was an undiscovered creature. He watched you as you circled him, taking in your everything. Your messy hair, work clothes that fit you just right, your sent. Miguel felt high.
The then stopped in front of him, hand outstretched to his mask. You pulled it off delicately, as if he was made of glass. There he was, handsome features looking down on you, a soft look in his eyes. You felt lost in his scarlet eyes as you touched him.
“You’re real” you squeaked out, a smile blooming on your face. “You’re gorgeous, much prettier than the glimpses.”
Miguel looked flustered, finding it hard to look into your eyes. “I’m real,” he says softly.
His voice was everything you had hoped. Deep and smooth. He was everything you had hoped.
You grabbed onto his arm lightly and tugged, “Come with me,” you said trying to walk back to your apartment.
“You don’t even know my name,” he responded with an amused look.
“Then what is it?”
“...Miguel”
You said it back to him, loving the feeling on your tongue as you did. You smiled brightly as you said, “Please Miguel, come home with me. I’m not letting you leave, not after all the time I spent thinking about you”
Miguel acquiesced, allowing you to drag him down the steps of the fire escape and to your apartment. Normally he’d put up a fight if someone dragged him somewhere, but not with you. Never with you.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of you the whole walk home, while you couldn't stop smiling.
Once you turned into your building, you ran up the steps then whirled around to look at him at the bottom of the steps. “You wear that suit, but you’re so slow,” you teased before you ran down the hall, giggling. Miguel looked surprised, the entire time he has observed you, you were calm and polite. He wasn’t expecting this playfulness, not that he was complaining. Those weeks were devoid of your laugh, something he’ll treasure now.
Miguel lunged up the steps, scaling them far quicker than you thought was possible. You squealed when you saw him at the top of the steps. He was smiling, an expression you hadn’t seen him have in the weeks you had glimpse of him.
It felt so easy to be with him. You barely knew him, and yet Miguel is your everything.
He caught up to you easily, grabbing you softly. You look up at him with big eyes, full of amazement before you suddenly stop and straighten out. Your paintings are still scattered around. He can’t know. He’ll think you're crazy and leave. Anything but that.
“Uh, let me clean up a bit! It's a mess,” you laugh awkwardly as you turn to face the door.
Miguel looked more than amused, he knew exactly what you were referring to and debated on letting you know. “Oh sure, it's not like you have pictures of me in there,” he laughs, “That would be crazy”
You were frozen. He knew. He had to.
You nervously laugh, all the confidence you had on the rooftop: gone. You instantly became shy. Stuttering over your words on explaining why it was not that and actually something that made your apartment messy. After a minute of fumbling, Miguel laughs.
“It's okay mi amor, I know what's in that living room” he smiles softly.
It was not possible to become more bashful than you are now, but after hearing his Spanish, you felt your cheeks flush. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know Spanish, but you knew those words: my love. You opened the door to reveal just what he had said, many portraits of him.
Wait, how did he know?
You turned to Miguel with a puzzled face. “How? How could you have known? This is the first time you’ve seen me…” you trailed off. This really was the first time he had met you. Why did he seem like he knew you? Why did he come with a complete stranger to him? Why, why, why?
It was Miguel’s turn to become flushed. “It’s not…I, uh, I've been watching you for a while…” he winces. That sounded much more creepy than intended.
“You're the audience, aren’t you?” you laugh, “You creep, you've been watching me paint you?!” you giggle.
“If you didn’t like the feeling, why did you call to me? Ask me questions?” Miguel chuckled.
You didn’t have an answer, you simply invited him to your home. He stood in the living area studying the paintings. Miguel already knew all of these from having watched you create each one. You seemed to have a fascination with his teeth. His fangs more specifically.
While Miguel was distracted, you gingerly wrapped your arm around his lower waist. You hugged him like he was fragile, as if he could break under the slightest force. He teased before relaxing into your touch. You let go hesitantly and motion for him to sit on your beat up couch.
“So… what’s with the whole watching me thing? And the suit, are one of Spider-Man's friends?” you sat next to him.
Miguel took a long pause before explaining himself, the Society, the multiverse and your connection to it. You looked starstruck hearing the information. He wasn’t able to explain your glimpses, but you weren’t too worried about them anymore. As he talked, Miguel seemed to be very keen on explaining the idea of multiverses and how he and others traveled between them. Most of the science-y talk goes over your head, but you listen as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He was passionate about the protection of all multiverses. You tried to understand what you could, but in the end, you just wanted to touch him.
You took his large palm into your hand, as the other began to trace the lines of his palm. You moved your fingertips as if you were painting him, and soon Miguel cut himself off to allow you to draw invisible lines on him. He had never felt so at peace, neither had you.
Miguel spent the night with you, and apologized profusely for having to leave. You accepted his apologies with a laugh. And with that, Miguel left, with promises to come back and to show you his universe.
You quickly went to your easel, eager to paint the moment you shared on your couch.