create
Miles was no stranger to machinery.
Not after four years of meddling in computer parts alone in his room, tinkering and fumbling with custom keyboards and ultimately giving in, asking Ganke for help with assembling them. For a guy that loves computers, he hates building any and every part of them. As such, he let Ganke geek out over picking between the sound of Cherry MX and Gateron switches while he unstuck the tiniest pieces from his fingers, eagerly snatched up by Ganke the moment they hit the desk in their dorm.
Ganke returned the favor with tasking Miles to use his spidey sense and find whatever lego pieces were needed hidden deep in piles, missing flat pieces that always fell off his bed into the crevice between the mattress and bed frame--always struggled with getting the right angle to stick it to his finger no matter how many times he- okay, maybe Ganke asked more of Miles than Miles of Ganke sometimes. However, Miles was always happy to help, even when he swung back in tattered to fuck and clearly ready to sleep off his last fight.
Miles- whenever he didn't feel too bad after fighting, let Ganke ramble on about how to build computers. He gives him a weak smile, silently enjoying the way he drones on and on- always has and always will. He won't admit that he's probably got enough knowledge to do it himself now, that's just cruel to Ganke.
But when he's ready to close his eyes, he looks at Ganke with a softness from across the room. He lightly rubs the back of his hand if he's close enough to the bed, and he knows to shut it down. Silently, they'll watch the sunset envelop their shared dorm. The desk turns sunflower yellow, pencils and pens in that purple cup holder have the slightest tinge of magenta, their metal accents purple.
Purple were Miles' bruises, bordering violet some nights. Raised and sore to the touch, Miles wouldn't take the suit off out of fear the air would burn them farther. That's why- when he's banged up beyond what's comfortable for them both, he'll wait just a bit longer behind the chimneys on the rooftop- slink in when he hears his friend snoring.
Miles takes off his glasses, picks up the legos--sometimes he finishes the sets. He scribbles a message on a sticky note before dozing off.
"Please stop staying up for me."
Ganke washes his suit off around five in a separate basket. Miles picks up the next one off it, folded and ironed, emblem a little less blotchy than last night.
"Fat chance :D"
The pinks of the sky land on Ganke's cheeks whenever Miles was out cold and didn't move his head to the pillow beforehand. His strong jaw may dig into Ganke's shoulder, but he fiddles with Miles' curls (Miles allows it when he's awake- not asleep, but Ganke can't help himself), aware of the consequences that'd come if he were to arise.
Miles does wake when fingers prod too close to his scalp- he's too tired to care.
And when morning comes at eight they set off to class like nothing happened last night. They cover each other's asses when Miles hops to the bathroom for two out of three hours during lectures- Ganke following a few minutes after to livestream the fight on school TVs- purposely cutting it off whenever Miles is losing.
This was their routine. Albeit a bit impractical, highly irregular at times, and just a tad concerning to their teachers and neighboring students- they wouldn't have it any other way.
Which is why Ganke, no stranger to their newfound routine, algorithms, or technology- confused the hell out of Miles at lunch when he suggested he should make a TikTok account.
Miles mumbles through his pulled pork sandwich, "Ganmkhe no".
"Why not? You're seventeen now, It'll be fun!"
"Not like that, I mean like a main or spiderman one?"
A devious glint appears in his eyes, permeating his lenses as they shine. "Spiderman."
"No-"
Miles said that a little too quick, Ganke reasons farther. "Yes! Give me one good reason why you shouldn't."
"I have enough cameras on me already, Ganke. I don't wanna record myself in public when other people do it for me. That's just weird."
"Okay, that's understandable. But let me say this: think of the money we'd get for fight clips."
Miles was short on cash. Not that he'd need to make any right now, his parents assured him he wouldn't need a job right now and the school provided cards- but it would be nice to have some.
"...I'm listening."
"So here's the plan-"
When Ganke took out a little blue notebook, sticky notes flailing wildly and color coordinated pages- Miles knew he was in for a treat.
"We start on Tiktok and Youtube first, Youtube for the full fight videos I have- since most of what's online is pretty shaky or is purposely cut. Then we go to TikTok to market those clips from the videos, and post memes or funnier clips there."
"Wait...what memes of me do you have saved?"
"-Speaking of funny, we should branch out Twitter and Instagram afterwards. Insta more for your pictures of skylines, sponsorships, and post fight pics. Twitter for looking at yourself, personal and public interaction, and easy memes."
Miles puts his arms out, feigning exasperation, "Looking at myself? Gee, I don't search Spiderman on Twitter if I am Spiderman - That's like asking Einstein if he made E equals mc squared."
Ganke moves his hands in retaliation, "Yeah…but it's funny!"
"Besides, Twitter's toxic as hell man-"
"But it's funny. Plus, you could argue that for any social media platform."
Ganke sipped his drink in silence, Miles could only muster an agreeable mutter.
"Mmm- Good point."
Honestly, the whole scheme sounded like Ganke just wanted to geek out over his best friend in the most and least discreet way he knew how.
And Miles would let him, because why the hell wouldn't he?
With all that said, the two came up with a plan on top of a plan that night- loosely following what Ganke said earlier. In their dorm, Miles was plotting while perpendicular and stuck to the wall. Ganke schemed and swirled in his chair.
The problem they faced was good social media handles.
Partly because everyone had gotten their grimey little hands on every variation of "spiderman" and "Spiderman".
"Gee we is not naming the official account 'RealSpiderman' on Tiktok." Miles complained.
"Why not? It gets the point across."
"What about…'SpiderMinis'?"
Ganke looked at him and huffed.
"Really Miles?"
"Can you come up with something more creative?"
"...RealSpiderman it is then."
"Wait, no- SpiderMenace!"
Ganke hits create at that. "JJJ inspo, I like it!"
"Next platform, Twitter."
"Bro I got this. Spidermano."
"...Spidermano? Bro I'm never letting you name shit after this-"
"Gee hear me out! That one's for spanish tweets."
"Mhmmm, getting all audiences- I like it I like it. We can use Spidermenace for Twitter as well, it's appropriate."
"Next! Insta?”
"Now that's where we use 'RealSpiderman'."
"You're right,” Ganke admits, “-but what about youtube?"
"Hold on, what about your account name?"
Ganke gestures to the seventeen tabs open. "Miles, I'm your manager, I don't need an account."
"Mmm you sure? Timeline banter's pretty funny."
"Shiiiii maybe I do…"
"...Spidermanager!" Miles points at him, "Now you gotta give me credit for that one. And the website you wanted to make could just be Spiderweb!"
Ganke giggles maniacally as he presses enter. The deed is done. All six accounts-- plus one website, have been created.
It doesn't take long for Miles to get used to the apps- so long as he doesn't give away too many defining factors about himself underneath the mask.