“Une minute, enlacés”
Viendras-tu te reposer sur mon épaule ?
Miguel had never loved anyone in his life. During his childhood, he had learned to respect his father and to have a certain appreciation for his mother. He never had any friends, and the people he talked to at university, he could barely tolerate. When he started working at Alchemax, his colleagues treated him with respect, and that was enough for him. He was never looking for someone to love him, less he was looking to love someone.
Well, that changed when he showed up.
For Miguel, everything had changed the moment he had this little being in his arms. Miguel's body was immense, his muscles stood out through his clothes and there was no garment to cover them, that's why when he held him in his arms, that little boy looked much smaller than he was.
And for Miguel, it was something that was not believable. It was impossible that this being could be so small and so fragile, and it was also impossible that this little piece of him had achieved the impossible; Miles was the first person Miguel had learned to love.
It was a change so great that the new feeling was almost unreal. He was still unsure of his thoughts, his emotions, and his heart. Every time he saw him, there was an inexplicable feeling that unsettled him and pushed him out of his comfort zone. And he didn't like that, and it made him angry.
He was used to being in control, in control of his emotions, in control of his thoughts, his life, his heart. But this new challenge wasn't going to turn his world upside down, he was going to face it, tame it and keep everything perfect.
Because the head of that little being that lay curled up on his shoulder was worth it.
The journey of single parenting with a child like Miles was not what he expected. Having accepted that this tick was going to be embedded in his heart for the rest of his life, he began researching how to give his little sunflower the best life possible. He watched a lot of series on how to keep your kids alive, films on parenting, documentaries on how not to be a jerk of a parent and the whole collection of books with the same name. He also read the books “How to be a good parent and not screw up your child, like they screwed you up, for dummies”. But that didn't stop him from making mistakes.
It was a quiet morning. The sun was timidly approaching behind the clouds to brighten and warm up the Sunday. The morning breeze was blowing calmly, making the leaves dance to the beat and dry from the residue of water that the rain forgot the night before.
And although the atmosphere in the city was calm, inside the residence where Miguel lived with Miles, everything was in chaos.
Miguel hadn't been able to sleep all night, as Miles hadn't stopped crying since the rain had started the night before.
Miguel had tried everything that night, changing his diaper, feeding him, entertaining him, rocking him to sleep. Nothing had worked.
But by the time he realised that his son was acting out because of the thunderous thunder, it was too late to go to sleep.
That's why he found himself with a bad cold while his son slept in his arms.
He cursed nature in his mind for making his son cry, and was already planning to invent a machine that could give mother nature a good punch.
His eyes felt swollen, every two seconds he had to sniffle his nose to keep the snot from falling on his baby's forehead. His throat hurt horribly every time he swallowed saliva or coughed, and his body felt heavy from being in the same position for four hours.
Miguel didn't think he could go on like this for another minute. He had been feeling like going to the bathroom for a while now, but he didn't want to move for fear of waking Miles up and having him start crying again.
The thought of that happening again was starting to give him a headache.
He frowned as he felt the typical sharp stab of discomfort. He was used to these headaches, he had had them all his life, and although he was used to the pain, it irritated him to have them.
So when he was able to settle very slowly on the couch so that he could rest his eyes for a while, he let out a quiet sigh and rested for a long time.
The time he rested was so long that when he woke up, it was eleven o'clock in the morning and Miles had not yet woken up.
When he woke up he was disoriented, his whole body felt numb and his vision was blurred.
He had a feeling that if he got up, his legs would not respond, and he would fall on his face. So he decided it was best to settle back on the couch and wait for his limbs to react to his brain's commands.
He was so confused and uncomfortable that he could barely feel the lump his numb arms were holding move.
His baby began to cry and Miguel, even with his body and mind numb, did nothing.
Miles was uncomfortable in this position, moving erratically to get out of his father's arms and trying to get away from the body that held him prisoner. Miles let out gigantic streams of tears and screams so that the older one would understand and comply with his needs.
Miguel, half conscious, reacted and rocked him to calm him down.
It did not work.
When he felt his feet react again without that horrible tingling, he stood up and walked around the room while continuing to rock his son to calm him down.
As the minutes passed and nothing changed, Miguel began to get irritated, as he was tired and with a huge headache, he couldn't stand his son's cries.
As this didn't seem to calm him down, Miguel had enough and, being a little rough with his son, put him in the cot he had set up in the living room because of yesterday's situation.
Upon being placed in the cot, Miles calmed down a bit, but within a few seconds his crying returned and this made Miguel's headache worse.
He had to quiet him down somehow, Miguel told himself as he massaged his temples to try to bring down the discomfort. He grabbed some toys that were lying on the floor and passed them to him, Miles threw them back to him.
Miguel could take it no more, everything was spinning, his throat was hurting more and more, his head was going to explode, and his body was demanding a break. So he exploded and screamed at him.
He felt a little better for having screamed, but that feeling vanished in a heartbeat when he realised that he had screamed at his baby.
The look on Mile's face when he yelled at him was horrible to see. His face had transformed to one of fear because Miguel, in the year and a half since he had become a father, had never reacted that way. Miguel immediately regretted after seeing that expression on his son's face.
Miles cried again, and Miguel immediately picked him up gently and rocked him.
He cradled him in his arms as he apologised. Miguel felt like a horrible father at that moment, how could he possibly have yelled at his precious son for something so insignificant? Even if Miguel felt like he had been run over by a tractor a thousand times, that was no justification for treating Miles that way.
God, he felt like a horrible father.
He put a hand on his son's cheek to caress and cuddle him, but was surprised when he felt how warm it was.
He frowned and put his palm on Miles' forehead. He was worried when he felt it warm.
He was panicking because he had a bad feeling. His son was going to die?! It wasn't normal for his baby to be so hot. He ran to the bathroom to get the thermometer to take his son's temperature. When he found it after making a big mess all over the bathroom, he stood still because he didn't know where to put the device. Should he put it on his butt? Because he'd seen vets put it there on animals. But Miles is no animal. He tried to put it in his mouth, but he wouldn't let him. Miles was moving erratically away from his father again.
Miguel wanted to help his son, but Miles wouldn't stop moving. Stressed, he called Lyla, his personal AI.
“Lyla!” Miguel shouted into the air, and within seconds, a flash of yellow and orange appeared in the shape of a woman.
“Miguel, old friend!” She spoke excitedly. “I thought you had replaced me with your new whim and forgotten me!” She put a hand on her chest in mock offence.
“Lyla, I need you to run a scan on Miles.” Miguel said frantically, not taking his eyes off little Miles. “I-I don't… I don't know what's wrong with him. If he has any damage or anything,” the concern was palpable in Miguel's eyes that it was strange for Lyla to see him like this. “But I want to fix it and I don't know how.” Miguel looked at Lyla, his eyes now had tears building up. “I-I need you to help me.”
Seeing the seriousness of the matter, Lyla without another word, did as she was asked and within a second they had the results.
Miguel waited for Lyla to tell him what Miles had so he could fix it. He felt tired, his discomfort had got worse, but he put it on the back burner as he watched his son suffer.
Lyla read the results and let out the metaphorical air she had been holding in. She walked over to Miguel, who was sitting on the toilet looking at his son, who was still crying.
"Miguel." She called out to him and he turned to look at her quickly. She gave him a small smile and spoke: "He just has a fever. Apparently he caught it a few hours ago. It must have been because of the rain in the early hours of the morning." She read a few things and looked at him again. "Although the fever is a bit high, there's no need to worry, with a warm bath, plenty of fluids and some medicine, he'll be as good as new tomorrow."
Miguel was reassured by the diagnosis, but that dissipated when he realised the problem. Miles was sick. Miles was sick and he didn't know how to treat it.
Yes, even though Lyla had just told him what to do, he didn't know how to do it. What kind of medicine should he give him? Was there one specifically for babies, or could he give him the one he had stashed away? How warm does the water have to be?, if it's too cold it's bad? what if it's too hot and burns Miles?, and what liquids should he drink? Is formula enough or should I give him water? Or should I give him those hydrating juices? No, but those have so much sugar, it could be fatal for Miles.
Seeing the mortified look on her creator's face, Lyla walked over and stood in front of him to try to reassure him.
"Calm down, Miguel." He didn't look at her and kept looking at Miles, thinking of all the mistakes he could make. "I already went ahead and bought the right medicine to bring Miles' fever down. If you want, I can help you so you don't feel overwhelmed. How about that?" Lyla smiled when he nodded, still not looking at her.
Miguel stood up from the toilet and turned on the bathtub faucet to let the warm water run. While waiting for the water to be ready, Miguel stripped Miles out of his pajamas and left him naked.
Miles felt a little better as he felt the warm clothes being removed, but it didn't stop the tears completely.
The water was ready, Miguel used his hand to gauge the warmth of the water and it felt so good that he wanted to strip off his clothes and get in there to ease his discomfort. But that could wait, his priority now was Miles.
He carefully got Miles in without even letting go and began to pour water over his body. Miguel was pouring with the help of his hand and couldn't help but smile when he saw the look of relief on his son's face. It calmed his heart.
He finished pouring the appropriate products such as soap and chamomile-scented shampoo and took him to his room. With Lyla's guidance, Miguel put him in a lightweight onesie to make him comfortable.
With that done, Miguel put Miles in the cot and went to the kitchen to prepare a bottle to keep him hydrated.
When he checked the temperature, he took him in and gave it to him. Miguel sat down on the couch and put him in the position he had learned to feed babies and Miles began to suck on the bottle. Miguel looked worriedly at Miles. He hadn't noticed, but he looked pale and tired. And it was all his fault.
He had left the window open while it was raining that he hadn't noticed because he had been tending to Miles.
He felt like a bad father, it was his fault he had made his son sick and he had made himself sick too. If he couldn't take care of him himself, how could he take care of someone who was completely dependent on him.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the doorbell ring. He looked over at Miles, who had already finished the entire bottle. He put the bottle on the coffee table and opened the door to see a delivery man with a bag in his hands.
The delivery man appeared to be a teenager. He looked like a jerk and Miguel didn't like that. He looked at him very contemptuously.
"That'll be 30 bucks, dude." The delivery man slurred his words. Miguel made a face of disgust as he smelled the foul breath that hit his face. He grabbed some cash he had stashed in his coat and handed it to him.
"Dude, you're totally disgusting." The teenager said as Miguel snatched the bag from him. "Don't be bitter, compadre, with a few good hard ones you'll flow. If you want, I've got the magic ones here," Miguel, upon hearing those words, slammed the door in his face. He smiled when he heard how the delivery man cried from the pain of his nose being hit by the door.
He took out the two medicines in the bag and stood still, not knowing which one to give him.
"The one in the green box, you have to give him 50 ml every twelve hours." Lyla appeared at the side of the medicines. Miles was mesmerised by the floating woman and with his chubby hands he tried to catch her.
"What about the other one? What's it for?" He looked at Lyla and grimaced when he heard what his voice sounded like. It sounded really bad.
Lyla pretended to reach for Miles' hands, but pulled away when the boy was about to catch her. "The other one's for you, silly." Miguel looked at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes; she kept playing with Miles. "Don't think I didn't notice you're sick, Miguelito."
"That doesn't matter, what matters here is Miles." Miguel brushed the matter off. He walked back to the cot and put him back in. When he turned back, he grabbed the bottle and put it in the dishwasher to wash later.
He uncapped Miles' medicine and pulled out a syringe. He turned to Lyla in concern. "Do I have to inject him?!"
"What?" Lyla looked at him quizzically. "No, the medicine is given orally." Miguel relaxed, nodded and began to put the 50 ml into the syringe. "You see? You're sick, now you're even more of an idiot than usual." Lyla pointed at Miguel accusingly. " It's important that you take care of yourself too, Miguel."
He shook his head. "No, it's not."
"Of course it is. Because if you don't, who's going to take care of Miles?"
Miguel stood still. He hadn't thought of it that way. And Lyla was right. If he doesn't take care of himself and something happens to him, who's going to protect Miles?
"But it's my fault Miles is like this." Miguel stopped his actions. "It was my fault I left the windows open, now Miles is sick and it's all because I'm not a good father." Miguel looked at Lyla with pain. "Not to mention I yelled at him today, Lyla. I yelled at him because he wouldn't stop crying. I yelled at him because I'm a bad father."
Lyla looked at him with concern. This new side of Miguel was new to her as well. Since she was created, Miguel had been stoic and aloof with others, as if people were a disease that Miguel wanted to avoid at all costs.
But since Miles' arrival, Miguel had changed abruptly. Miguel became a different person. He was more patient, more understanding and less angry. And all because of Miles.
"Miguel," Lyla began to speak. "You're new to this whole parenting thing. You educated yourself as much as you could when you found out about the baby, you changed for Miles. That makes you a good father.
"But-"
"Yeah, you made mistakes, that's normal for a human being." Miguel didn't seem convinced, so Lyla continued. "You're going to make a lot more, Miguel, it's part of being human and is part of being a parent as well. But, what's going to make you a good parent is knowing how to make amends."
Miguel still had his doubts. But he felt better when he heard those words.
"Now, give that medicine to your son and then you're going to take care of yourself." Lyla disappeared.
Miguel took a deep breath to calm himself and finish his task. Once he was ready, Miguel went to Miles. Miles looked a little uncomfortable, but he was no longer crying. His giant Bambi eyes were looking at him with curiosity, and it warmed the adult's heart.
It was easy to give him the medicine. A few little aeroplane sounds were enough to make Miles open his mouth and swallow the medicine. He rocked him until, half an hour later, Miles passed out. Miguel put him in the cot and went to take a cold shower.
As he stepped into the shower, he thought about everything that had happened today. His and Miles' discomfort, the screaming, the anguish, and Lyla's words.
Being a father was a lot harder than he thought it would be. He wanted to turn back and go back to his old life. But when he remembered those big, innocent eyes looking at him with such love, it was totally worth it.
On his way out, he changed into another pair of pyjamas and went to take his medicine. Once he was ready. Miguel watched Miles sleep and carried him back to his room. He wanted to sleep with him today.
He settled into bed and lay down on the bed. He cuddled Miles to his chest and smiled as he settled in and laid his head on the older one's shoulder.
Watching his son sleep peacefully in his arms made him realise that it was all worth it if he was going to have more moments like this.
Malgré tout le mal que j'ai fait, je te propose...
Watching Miles grow up was one of his favourite things to do. Ever since he learned to use a pencil all he did was draw and draw. Until he was 5 years old Miles only communicated through drawing, to express his emotions, Miles would draw, to ask for something, he would draw, even when he got angry with Miguel, he would draw. It wasn't until a year later that he began to talk.
Miguel was initially concerned when Miles didn't speak or even write. He had talked to a child psychologist about this, but he was assured that it was nothing wrong, that some children just don't develop at the same rate as others.
That passion for drawing never went away. Every day Miles improved his drawing and Miguel was proud.
The two lived in peace in their little home. They were both happy, especially Miguel, who had his little sunshine that brightened his heart.
At the age of 10, Miles received his first kit of graffiti cans. Miguel didn't like the kind of people who did those obscenities on the walls, but he let it go for Miles.
With his father's help, Miles was able to debut his gift by decorating his room. The two of them had fun that day and had a beautiful father-son time.
Miles continued to polish that gift of his and Miguel was right behind him at his side.
Miles was a very intelligent child (he got that from his father. Miguel said it every time someone talked about his son's intelligence). He was always diligent in all subjects, but unsurprisingly, he was the most diligent in art.
At the age of eleven, his first year of high school, Miles was scolded by his physics teacher for spending the whole class drawing in his notebook. Miguel was called in for a meeting with the teacher. He told him that his son was wasting his potential by doodling and hanging out with people who encourage such acts. Miguel was furious with the teacher, punched him in the face and stormed out. The next day Miles had to change schools to avoid a lawsuit.
At the age of 12, Miles saw less and less of his father. Miles didn't understand why all of a sudden, his dad was spending more time going on business trips and not being at home like he should. He didn't even know what kind of work Miguel was doing to try to justify his lack of presence at home.
Miles was lonely for weeks at a time in the department. While the eldest was away, Miles would go off with his friends to paint the walls of various buildings and get chased by the police for it.
Miles knew that his father was an engineer and that he used to work for a very corrupt company, but it was strange for him that he had to go away for weeks at a time to change the batteries in some robot or something.
Miles started to get used to it and began to do everything himself. Making his own food, buying what he needed, so he wouldn't starve, going to school by himself and keeping himself company.
But he didn't resent his father. Miles knew how hard it was to provide for two people. He knew that his father did a lot of things so that Miles could have the life he had now, and so he didn't complain when he was left alone in the house, waiting for his father to come home, so he could give him a big, tight hug.
Days after his 13th birthday, Miles' life changed forever.
He found himself under the underground in a deserted part of the underground, alone. With the music on his mobile phone blaring, he was trying to finish painting a part of his artwork on the concrete wall.
It had taken him 3 hours to complete this work. Just a few more strokes, and he could go home, order something to eat and relax for the weekend.
Something began to walk on his arm, he felt it tickle all over his arm which made Miles drop the can of paint from the sensation. It was too late for Miles because by the time he realised there was a spider on the back of his left hand, it had already bitten him.
He only felt a slight pain in the affected area, but he played it down and crushed it with his other hand. The spider fell and Miles had already finished gathering his things and went home to rest.
When he got home, Miles felt very tired. His body was heavy and he was very thirsty. He left the bag of paint cans on the doorstep and hurried to fill a glass with water.
When he drank it, he felt a little better. He went straight to his room, no longer wanting to eat, and collapsed on the mattress, falling fast asleep.
The next day, Miles realised that he had powers.
(…)
A year had passed since that spider had bitten him. Now Miles was the only Spider-Man and his father knew nothing about it.
At first, it was easy to keep the secret from him, but now it was more complicated.
He wondered why, all of a sudden, his dad had stopped attending his mysterious trips. Miles wasn't complaining (well, just a little), he liked that his dad was already spending time with him. But now was not the time, not when Miles now had an obligation to protect the city.
Miles let everything take its course again. His father worked at home, Miles went to school, hung out with his new friend Ganke and patrolled the streets until the annoying curfew his father had put on him since discovering his escapades of wall-crime.
It was a quiet afternoon for Miles as Spider-Man captured the latest villain of the week and handed him over to the police. Now, the teenager was in some building near Central Park, watching the view. It was almost Miguel's birthday, and he had almost finished preparing his present. It wasn't much, he had just made up an old black suit and given it his touch. He had painted several sunflowers on the jacket and trousers. It wasn't much, but he hoped his dad would like it.
As it was getting dark, Miles decided it was time to go home and have a film marathon with his dad. It was his turn to choose, and he would make him watch all the Disney classics.
Just as he was ready to launch himself off the building, his spidey sense kicked in, and by inertia he activated his invisibility. He turned around to see the cause of his discontent and was surprised to see another person in a spider suit. The opposing person's suit was blue with red. The chest of the suit was in the shape of a skull with fangs on it. It was a very cool design.
"Stop hiding, I know where you are." The man spoke and Miles recognised the voice, but he couldn't remember where he had heard it.
Miles, out of excitement and the fact that he had already been discovered, deactivated his power and began to speak excitedly.
"I can't believe it, you're Spider-Man, too!" Miles got very close to the guy, and he didn't move. "Did the same spider bite you too? Because I was bitten by a strange spider, it was strange and made weird movements. "Miles walked around the guy again and again." What powers do you have? I can make myself invisible, and I can create electricity. It's pretty cool, right?"
Miles was leaving his “serious man” side to be excited to have found another person who looked like him. Being Spider-Man was a lonely job. There was no one to share your adventures with, let alone your concerns. But seeing someone who understood him, for the first time, he didn't feel so alone in this world.
"I don't have time for this, I need you to come with me." The man turned and with a watch that Miles hadn't noticed before, he opened a portal.
Miles was stunned, his mouth was wide open and his mind wasn't processing what he was seeing, but after analysing the words that strange Spider-man said, he took a few steps back.
"What?" Miles asked in confusion.
The man sighed and looked at Miles. He had a tired look on his face, he didn't have time to deal with a brat who thought he was a hero. -I need you to come with me. Go through the portal and I'll explain everything.
Miles stepped back further when the strange man wanted to grab his arm. "No. I won't do that."
The adult gave him an irritated look and said again. "Yes, you are. Let's go."
"Look, sir, with all due respect. Fuck you. I'm not going to an unknown place with you. So leave me alone and don't come looking for me again." Miles jumped off the building and started swinging in the opposite direction of his house, in case the man came after him.
Miguel sighed wearily when that young Spider-Man was gone. Jessica had warned him that was going to happen if he just showed up like that. But Miguel didn't care, he needed to control this new Spider-Man. Even though he hadn't done anything, Miguel wanted to keep him under control.
With nothing else to do and too tired to start a hunt with the inexperienced kid with spider-powers, he entered the portal to go home and spend time with his son.
(...)
Since that incident, Miles now had to deal with thugs and a new Spider-Man who wanted to kidnap him.
It had only been 3 months, Miles started living on campus at his new high school, along with his friend and roommate, Ganke. School wasn't hard, he aced every subject and was able to live a somewhat normal life, with normal teenage problems 5 days a week. But, after spending the day as Miles, at night he transformed into Spider-Man to protect Brooklyn and find out who the person behind the mask was who wanted to kidnap him.
He didn't have a clue. He didn't know who this guy was, and every time they fought, Miles would come out a bit hurt and in dread of this man. That man was trying to knock him out to take him away, but Miles wouldn't let him, which caused the occasional bruise on his face, ribs, and the occasional scratch on his ribs.
Today was his day off. His school had closed for reasons that didn't interest him, and he had decided to spend the day at home with his father to spend more time between father and son. But to his misfortune, his father just decided it was a good idea to work late and not spend time with his beloved son.
In a week it was his father's birthday, he had already finished painting and only needed the finishing touches. He would have finished it much sooner if it hadn't been for the fact that the normal paint had ruined the fabric. He had to buy another suit just like it and start from scratch, but now with fabric paint.
After finishing the series he was watching, he went to the kitchen to grab a few newspapers so as not to stain the floor. When he opened the drawer where all the magazines were stacked in the recycling section, next to the rubbish were some crumpled reports.
Curious, Miles pulled them out to find out what they were about. Maybe it was something to do with his father's work. He began to read them and found nothing interesting. The only thing he could make out were a few details of some machine that had failed because of one of the employees, and a very detailed description of how incompetent the employees were.
Miles laughed as he imagined his father writing that in anger.
He glanced at the other papers and read them. Nothing intriguing until he came across one word in particular. "Spider-Man."
Why would his father have the word Spider-Man written on his report?
Could it be because of the damage done? Miles was ashamed of the damage he caused every time he fought villains.
He kept reading what it said about Spider-Man, and each time he read more and more, Miles started to panic.
His dad wanted to capture Spider-Man to eradicate him. His dad wanted to capture him to kill him.
No, that was wrong. His dad wasn't evil, was he? He was just a boring engineer who set up the Wi-Fi when it went bad, he wasn't a psychopath who wanted to kill a kid. It wasn't possible.
He couldn't breathe properly. His breathing was erratic, he was starting to get dizzy. He put the papers down, he didn't care about that now. He had to see 5 things and say them out loud.
OK, Miles could do it.
"F-fridge..." Miles stared at the fridge. His eyes fell on the oven. "O-oven..." His eyes scanned the place. "dish-dishwasher..." Easy, just two more things. His eyes fell directly on the papers on the floor. Miles began to hyperventilate.
His father had hurt him, several times, and this one wanted to hurt him permanently. His father was a bad person. He hurt people and he wanted to hurt his son.
Miles wanted to cry. He didn't know what to do. Tell his father what Spider-Man was? And then what? Maybe if he told him he could change his dad's mind, maybe if he made him see that he wasn't a bad kid, he could stop his dad from hurting him.
How much he wanted a hug from his daddy right now.
Everything was a blur, he wanted to get out of these walls that were leaving him breathless, he needed to get some fresh air. He tried to walk towards the door, but Miles was close to collapse. He managed to trip over those papers before he could reach the kitchen exit.
He had to get out, his father was going to kill him. Everything was going black. His eyesight was no longer focusing, and he wasn't breathing properly. Miles was going to pass out.
Some arms prevented him from ending up unconscious. Those arms were firm but delicate. They treated him with such inhuman gentleness that Miles knew whose limbs they were.
His mind told him to stay away. He wasn't sure. He was going to hurt him.
Danger.
Danger.
Danger.
"-iles! Miles! Miles!" He was calling out to him, but Miles ignored him and tried to wiggle out of his grip. He wasn't sure. He had to run.
"Don't do anything to me! Please, I'll stop being a naughty boy, but please don't hurt me!" Miles implored him while he was still trying to get loose.
"Miles, please calm down, amor. I won't hurt you. You're safe." Miguel assured him. But to no avail, Miles was still crying as he screamed for him to let go.
!Let me go!, let me go!, LET ME GO!" He abruptly let go when he heard how desperate his son was. It hurt him to see him like this and he didn't know why. He remembered again what happened seven years ago. When Miles was so terrified of his father that he had to stay at his friend Ganke's house for 3 months.
When Miles no longer felt the hands holding him, he crawled backwards to get as far away as he could from the man he no longer recognised as his father. All he could see was the monster that tormented him on a daily basis.
Miles hugged himself as he hiccuped. With his eyes still dripping with tears, Miles couldn't take his eyes off his father. He was alert for every move he could make. Miles still felt trapped, even though he was no longer in his grip. He had to get out of that place to get to safety.
"Miles, cariño," Miguel tried to get closer, and immediately Miles stepped back further. "You're safe. You're with me."
Miles denied. No, he wasn't.
"Why do you think you're not, pulga?" Miles let out a small sound of pain at the nickname his dad had given him. He still couldn't reconcile that the same man he saw as his safe place was the same man who hurt him every time he saw him on the streets. He wanted to feel protected, to run into his daddy's arms and ask him to watch out for monsters, but now his daddy was the monster he had to hide from. Miles just shrugged as he kept looking at him. Miguel was getting frustrated because he didn't know what to do.
"N-no," he hiccupped, "I-I don't want you... to hurt me..."
Miguel was hurt, why did Miles assume that he wanted to hurt him? "I would never do anything to hurt you, mi amor. Never."
"BULLSHIT." Miles cried harder. "You've been hurting me for a long time. You hit me, you try to take me somewhere I don't know to finish me off! Do you hate me so much that you want to get rid of me?!"
"Miles, what are you saying?" Miguel combed his hand through his tousled hair.
"I found out everything. You want me dead, Dad. Am I such a bad son? I-I'm-I'm sorry if you didn't like that I ate all the Halloween candy... But I won't do it again so you won't hurt me again. I'll be a better son, I promise." Miles hugged himself tighter, seeking comfort.
Miguel didn't understand. He was now crying too, seeing his son in this state. His heart was close to collapse from the pain of seeing his baby like that. He wanted to go and hold him, cradle him like he did when he was feeling sick and tell him that everything would be okay. But he knew that if he did, everything would get worse.
"You want to kill Spider-Man." Miles yelled at him. "You want to kill me."
"Miles-what?" Miguel was crying now.
"For months, you've been after me to kill me. F-For months you've wanted to kill Spider-Man, you've wanted to kill me... I am Spider-Man, Dad." He said the last in a low voice. So low that if it weren't for Miguel's super-hearing he wouldn't have picked it up.
He looked down to find the papers he'd thrown away this morning. Now it all made sense.
"Miles-I... God, I didn't-" Miguel was stunned. He didn't know what to say. All the memories of a few months ago came flooding back. How he tried to force the boy into the barracks. How when he wouldn't give in, he would forcefully go and beat him. Now all those memories replaced the mask with his son's face. It made him want to vomit. "Miles, mi niño". Miguel moved a little closer. "I didn't know it was you. I-if I had known... I wouldn't have hurt you." Miles didn't seem convinced. "Really, mi amor. I would never do that."
"But you did..." Miles looked at him in pain. "I want my daddy... but I'm afraid of you." He had said it in such a small voice. And Miguel, hearing that, was transported back to the moment when his son, at the age of seven, was crying heartbreakingly for his daddy and walking away from him because he was afraid of him.
"Miles, I-I... I-I just wanted to be in control. I had to control you so you wouldn't mess things up. I had an obligation to have everything in order. It was for your own good, son."
Miles was already calming down. Now with a little control over himself. He struggled to his feet and began to walk to his room, but without taking his eyes off the monster that had replaced his dad. Those red eyes that he used to see with curiosity and love, were now monstrous, full of rage, eager to witness suffering. Miles wanted to forget those eyes forever.
"I-I want to be alone..." Miles moved further away from him. "I-I don't know who you are any more, all I see is a monster. Don't ever come near me again. Don't hurt me any more, daddy." And he disappeared into his room.
Miguel had stayed there, slumped on the kitchen floor, heartbroken. He had done what he had promised himself not to do. He had hurt the only person who loved him and whom he loved.
But at that moment, he hated the fact that his little boy had grown up.
He just wanted to go back to the moment where he and his son were entangled in an embrace.
… Une minute, enlacés, dans le noir ou la lumière allumée. Tu décideras.