I don’t care if it hurts.
I wanna have control.
I want a perfect body.
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice-
When I’m not around.
You’re so very special.
I wish I was special.
— Creep, Radiohead.
***
Miles Morales— Spider-Man really lucked out. He knows he’s definitely lucked out.
He knew the Uncle Aaron he hugged and held close while he cried wasn’t his Uncle Aaron.
It didn’t stop him from hoping any less.
He knows he has no way to get home, currently chained up to a punching bag in some warehouse with him— another version of him— the version that was supposed to be him.
This version. He knows it deep down. This version was supposed to be Spider-Man. This cold, skilled version, was supposed to have what he has.
And yet he doesn’t.
”Are you even paying attention anymore?” The Prowler snaps at him. He still has that blank expression, but seems to be staring him down even more now. The metal glove resting next to his head makes him all to aware of everything that has lead up to this situation.
He forces himself to look at the other version. He forces himself to accept it all and try to explain. He forces himself to realize he probably won’t be getting home in two days time to stop the Spot.
Because no one else is. So he forces himself to take in a ragged breath and meet those stone cold eyes.
”I’m sorry.”
***
Miles Morales— The Prowler got real lucky. Like really lucky.
He knows his dad is alive in some far off universe and this kid has everything he wants.
It doesn’t stop him from hoping his own dad will return.
He knows that this weak version has no idea where he’s ended up, and all he can do is plead his case and try to argue that he needed to get back to his own universe to save his dad.
Like he hadn’t wanted to do that.
Like he hadn’t grieved for far to long and had to force himself to move on.
He doesn’t like this version of himself. Down to the desperation in his eyes and the hairstyle that he finds oddly detesting.
”I’m sorry.” The other version croaked out. It sounded… genuine. Like he genuinely was apologizing for something.
And the apology caught him off guard. An apology was the last thing he expected. He didn’t know why the other him was apologizing, or why the other him even thought it necessary to do so.
”Why… why are you apologizing?” He finally allowed for that cold mask to crack slightly with confusion. His brows furrowing and he tilted his head to one side some.
The other Miles laughed some. It was bitter. “I’m not supposed to be Spider-Man… Miguel was right…” Other Miles goes quiet for a moment, then meets his gaze. “You definitely make a better candidate.”
He froze. What else was he supposed to do? What did any of that even mean? There was no… Spider-Man or whatever here, and this version only muddled his mind with more confusion than he needed.
”…what…?”
The Other Miles continued, seemingly trying to be positive suddenly. ”A universal joke. That’s what we are, mainly me. See the spider- that was supposed to bite you and lead to your uncles death—“
“Wait—“
”Yeah, it’s one of those things that happens to every Spider-Man.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Anyway… the spider that was supposed to bite you, ended up in my universe and bit me.”
He wants to interrupt, ask a million questions to this version of him. He wants to ask how it happens. How the death goes. How he can stop it. Because he can’t lose him. He can’t lose his Uncle Aaron. He lost his dad and he can’t—
“Also… don’t watch the mouth, watch the hands.”
He blinks, staring at the Other Miles with some confusion. “Wh—“
Then the world is a sudden factory white and with dark dots as he’s sent flying back.
***
He manages to knock the chains loose with his electricity, sending the Other Miles flying back into a table.
”I— am so sorry.” He cringes and leaps up, webbing himself up to stick on the ceiling of the warehouse as the Other Miles recovers.
He looks angry. No- scratch angry. This guys aiming for full Miguel smack down.
”I really need to get back to my world— I need to find a way back—“
The Other Miles let’s out a groan as he tries to sit up, but he doesn’t say anything else.
He readies his webs, planning to go right through the window. But he pauses, turning to the Other Miles.
”I… hope one day we meet again on slightly better terms.” He says softly, then swings out of the warehouse, not caring about anything behind him as he goes off into the unfamiliar night.
***
He watches him leave. He watches the other version leave.
He lays there for a moment more before forcing himself to sit up and stare at the now shattered window.
There isn’t anything he can do but sit there, watching the glass pieces shine with city lights and the moon in the far off distance.
At some point the broken chains catch his eye, pieces of slightly rusty metal all over in every direction on the floor like shards of a broken mirror.