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Miles is slumped in the backseat of his dad's cop car, his cheek resting against the cool glass of the window and his hands idly tugging on the strings of his backpack. New York passed by in whisps and blurs and all Miles can do is wait until he can escape the vehicle and become apart of it again. Inside the car the air is stuffy and it settles on Miles’ shoulders. He needed a breath of his city.
“Hey dad, would you mind if I cracked the window?”
Jefferson remained stoic, giving no indication of being addressed at all.
“C'mon dad, please,” Miles said, “I’m gonna pass out or something.”
Still nothing.
Miles abandoned the string and pushed an unsteady hand forward. No matter how upset his dad was he’d never ignore him, not like this.
Miles’ voice wavered as he asked, “dad?”
Miles let his hand rest on the smooth fabric of his father’s uniform. Except it wasn’t smooth. Something rippled beneath Miles’ palm and he shrieked as he fell back against the cop car’s interior.
Miles could only watch in frozen horror as Jefferson’s shoulders expanded the length of the front seat. His form grew to the ceiling and his hair began to fall out and flutter to his lap. In the blink of an eye, the tone of his skin shifted to a phantasmal white and the blue of his police uniform bled black. Just before his bloated body blocked the mirror, Miles caught the black and beady eyes of Wilson Fisk. Lines deepened their corners and framed his eyes in a cruel mirth, one that was entirely too familiar to Miles.
Fisk’s form only continued to grow and it was the low groan of the vehicle that snapped Miles into action. He flung himself at the door, desperately tugging on the handle, only to have it snap back in his hand.
A low rumble emerged from Fisk, his own twisted take on laughter. It caused his humongous shoulders to slam against the roof of the car and shook Miles’ entire existence. Each new roll of laughter reverberated in Miles’ ears and echoed in his skull. It was like he no longer existed, he was just more space for Fisk to inhabit.
Miles needed to be somewhere other than here, anywhere other than here. In an attempt to find himself again, Miles tried to look through the window, out into his city. He could hardly believe what he saw. New York had been replaced with a queasy rendition of itself, buildings melded into each other in a mishmash of glass and fires sprung loose from fire hydrants. People knelt low in the streets covering their heads and clutching each other as plumes of smoke and ash emerged from every crack and corner of the pavement.
At the nightmarish sight, Miles ditched his previous plan and instead began throwing himself against the doors. With every slam of his shoulder, Fisk’s laughter rang louder and louder. Eventually, Miles had to abandon his efforts so he could press his palms to his ears in a desperate bid to keep his mind. Miles curled in on himself. Fisk’s laughter became his entire existence.
Then it all just stopped, Fisk’s laughter went dead and the car jerked to a heavy stop. Tentatively, Miles raised his head from the alcove of his arms. The front seat was blessedly empty.
Miles was only allowed a few sweet seconds of relief when a sharp sound reached his right ear. It was the unmistakable click of a weapon being cocked. He knew that sound, he had heard it too many times now for him not to.
Miles slowly turned his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Its handler was none other than Wilson Fisk, who was somehow squeezed into the space beside him.
Miles tried to hold his breath but found the task difficult for some reason. The gun edged closer until it was pressed deep into his chest. All he could look at was Fisk’s unblinking eyes, which crinkled as he cracked another cruel smile.
“Did you think you could actually have a chance at defeating me? I own this city it was never yours to protect. I only let you run around in it for a little while, but that time has passed.”
Fisk learned in close, so close that Miles could feel his hot breath as it puffed against his cheek.
“You’re finished Spider-Man.”
There was so much Miles wanted to say, so much about how the first Peter had trusted him up until his dying breath, about how his dad believed in him, and about how New York City needed him, but all of his words were snatched away along with his breath when the gun pressed against his chest let loose.
Then Miles was falling, falling, falling—falling for so long it was as if he’d never done anything else at all.
The strangled cry he gave as he opened his eyes was quickly swallowed by his struggles for air. His rapid breaths rang out clear across his dorm and Miles’ fingers twisted in his sheets and against his chest.
He propped himself up and as stupid as it was, as silly as it was, he couldn’t resist the primal urge to lift the corner of his shirt and check, just to make sure that his skin was still intact and not ripped to shreds.
As soon as Miles confirmed that he remained (physically) unharmed, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
It was then that he came face-to-face with the wide-eyed gaze of his roommate, Ganke. He was half-turned around in that stupid spinny chair, that he insisted gave the room personality. The ghostly glow of his laptop was the only thing illuminating his face. It gave his skin a pale parlor, one that reminded Miles a little too much of…
All of a sudden, Miles couldn’t bear to look at Ganke anymore. He snapped his head forward only for him to get a full view of his bedsheets, wrapped and wound around his legs.
Man, he was a mess, of course, he couldn’t just sleep normally like Ganke and everyone else. He was Spider-Man, he had baggage. It seemed like, for every superhero, trauma came with the territory.
Miles could still feel Ganke’s eyes on him and he couldn’t stand it, he had to move. Making sure to avoid any eye contact with his roommate, Miles untangled himself from the sheets and tossed them to the floor. Then, still without looking at Ganke, he stumbled to their bathroom.
Miles shut the door behind him and wobbled to the sink. His legs felt weak and a dull throb had taken up residence in his temple. That combined with the grogginess of an abrupt of awakening left him feeling unsteady and uncertain. In an attempt to ground himself, Miles gripped the edges of the sink’s countertop. It was just beginning to work when he heard a sharp crack and looked down to find crumbled chunks of marble in his palm.
A sad and pathetic noise ripped though Miles’ throat as he shook his hands free of the debris. The sharp sounds of it raining down on the tiled floor, had Miles clutching his ears. The bathroom was beginning to seem just as inhospitable as the rest of the world. He didn’t want to be out there but he didn’t want to be in here either.
Miles stumbled back to the sink, intentionally keeping his gaze up and away from the gaping hole in the sink’s foundation. With shaking hands he twisted the knob for the cold water. Then those same unsteady hands came together until they were cupped under the faucet. He splashed the water on his face and although it did little to soothe him, it at least helped to combat the heaviness of the sweat that had dried on his brow.
As Miles shut off the faucet he realized that he was going to have to walk out that door and face Ganke. For a second, Miles entertained the possibility of opening the door to find Ganke with a blanket and a big hug. He swatted away the idea as quickly as it came. Maybe in some other alternate reality, but in this one, not likely. Sure Ganke cared but he didn’t exactly sign up to be Miles’ therapist.
Miles laid a hand on the doorknob, but before he twisted it, he couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder. Just above the shower sat a small window. If he wiggled hard enough, Miles was sure he could fit through. He took a step towards the window, but then the voice of his Mami surfaced from his memories.
‘Our family doesn’t run from things Miles.’
That’s all it took for Miles to know he couldn’t do it. With a sigh, he turned away from the window and twisted open the knob of the bathroom door.
Miles peeked around the archway, ready to meet Ganke’s judgemental gaze. However, the space that Ganke occupied just moments ago, was empty.
“Great Morales, you and your emotional baggage scared him away.”
Miles stepped past the bathroom’s threshold. At this point, he was ready to just throw on his suit and sling around until morning. That was his usual response to a nightmare. Was it healthy? Not exactly, but did it help him evade sleep’s clutches for the rest of the night? Yes, it did. His mind made up, Miles angled himself towards where his suit was hidden. He’d taken two steps across the room when he spotted something out the corner of his eye that shouldn’t be there.
Slowly, Miles turned his head, until he was, once again, face to face with Ganke. His roommate was sitting cross-legged on the floor and under the one window in the room. This time he at least had the decency to look embarrassed, with apologetic eyes and pink tinging the tips of his ears. He didn’t say anything, he just held Miles’ gaze as he scooted to the left, leaving plenty of room beside him.
Miles considered crossing the room, sitting next to Ganke, and spending the night talking everything out. It sounded so simple in his mind, but there was just something else in him that was screaming to get out. The dorm room was too small and every time Miles looked at his bed fragments of his nightmare would flare up, in his mind. All of it was still too fresh. Miles couldn’t help the growl that escaped him as he pressed his balled up fists to his eyes.
“Miles, what is it?”
Still, with his hands pressed into his face, Miles said, “I can’t stay here Ganke, I just can’t, I have to go, but--”
“But what, Miles?”
Ganke’s voice sounded closer this time.
“I just, I can’t--” his voice broke, the strain from the pain and from his emotions was just too much.
Miles couldn’t help but flinch as he felt warm skin come in contact with his own. Ganke’s arms gently wrapped around Miles’ back, enclosing him in an embrace. Not tight enough so that Miles couldn’t break away, but firm enough for Miles to know Ganke was there.
Ganke waited and waited and waited until Miles could gather himself enough to say, “I wanna go but I don’t wanna be alone.”
And then Miles, too ashamed of himself, stepped back out of Ganke’s reach. If Ganke didn’t think he was a freak before, Miles was sure he did now.
No matter how lonely Miles felt, there was no way he could stay in the dorm. Not after all that he’d said, after all, that he’d done. He turned away from his friend and began the tedious task of unburying his suit from its hiding place.
Miles could hear Ganke moving around in the room too, probably getting ready for bed. Miles couldn’t blame him, it was 2:39 now, any self-respecting person would be asleep.
Miles snapped on his spandex and bent to grab his shoes from under the bed. When he straightened, he stumbled back, shocked to find Ganke standing right in front of him.
“My bad,” Miles said at the same time Ganke stuttered out a, “sorry.”
Both boys looked at each other for a moment and then Miles snorted which made Ganke follow up with a laugh of which Miles returned. Miles still felt somewhat uneasy and his stomach was still rolling, but this felt good.
“Are you ready?” Ganke asked.
“Ready?” Miles repeated.
It was then he finally noticed Ganke’s outfit. He had changed from his running shorts into a pair of Adidas pants and swapped his old white t-shirt for a bright blue one bearing the emblem of Visions Academy and of course he was wearing one of his signature beanies.
“Yeah ready,” Ganke said, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “you didn’t think I’d let you go out alone, did you?”
Miles shook his head with a chuckle. He placed a hand on Ganke’s shoulder.
“I ever tell you I love you, man?”
Ganke eyes crinkled as he smiled and said, “nah, you didn’t need to.”
Again, Miles could only shake his head. Ganke Lee was without a doubt the best bro in the world.
Miles released his grip and crouched low to the ground, breaking the moment. After tonight’s nightmare, the last thing he needed was to get even more emotional (although he supposed it was already kind of too late for that).
“Hop on,” Miles said.
“Are you sure you can carry me?” Ganke asked, “like I know you're Spider-Man and all, but you’re also kind of a twig and I gotta lot of me to go around--”
“Ganke,” Miles said.
“Hhmmm?”
“Get on my back.”
“Geez,” Ganke grumbled, “you sure know how to put a guy at ease.”
Nevertheless, Ganke carefully climbed onto Miles’ back and secured his arms around his neck. When Miles rose, he did so with ease. To him, carrying Ganke was as easy as carrying his backpack.
Ganke had obviously not had full faith in the endeavor and squawked as Miles rose to his full height. Miles shifted a bit to make sure he had a firm grip on Ganke and then walked over to their window with light footfalls.
“Dude,” Ganke whispered, “you need to like join the circus or do a street show or something.”
“No thanks,” Miles said, “the Spider-Man gig is plenty enough showmanship for me.”
“Oh right,” Ganke said.
“Would you mind getting the window?”
Ganke snorted.
“Sorry,” he said stretching over Miles’ head to undo the latches, “that sentence is just kind of hard not to laugh at.”
Ganke somehow managed to tug open the window without toppling.
Miles slowly climbed out of their dorm, careful to maneuver himself so that Ganke never got shoved off. Soon Miles was standing straight off the side of the building, with Ganke huddled above him.
“So where are we going?” Miles asked.
“Anywhere but here, man. Staring down at the street like this is making me nauseous.”
“For your sake, I’ll try to take it easy,” Miles said as he was extended an arm.
He heard Ganke take a sharp inhale before the webbing made contact. Miles didn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’d already relinquished his hold on the building and seconds later they were falling forward, into the nighttime air.
Despite Ganke’s earlier apprehension, he loved being a passenger to Spider-Man. He whooped as they turned every corner and Miles had to keep reminding Ganke to hold onto him before he dropped off for goodness sake. Their swing was fairly short and Miles could swear that he heard Ganke sigh as they touched down to the ground.
Miles shoved his hands in the pockets of the shorts he wore atop his suit and started walking. Like clockwork, Ganke fell in step with him.
Miles led them a couple of blocks until they reached Mitty Mart’s Market, Miles’ favorite late night corner store. As he and Ganke entered the shop, the man at the cashier stand, Adam, gave them a tired nod then went back to thumbing through his magazine.
“He knows you’re Spider-Man, right?” Ganke whispered.
“Yeah,” Miles said, “that’s why I like Adam, he’s refreshing.”
Ganke paused, then he asked, “do we still have to pay?”
Miles laughed and said, “most definitely, but I got you covered, and don’t argue with me on this Ganke.”
Ganke’s mouth closed with a bashful grin.
The boys advanced further into the store. Expired bulbs, lazily flickered overhead and the air conditioning unit had a funny habit of kicking out old coughing sounds every few seconds. Miles loved this place. Ganke not so much, his eyes seemed to be scanning every corner of the store as if expecting an alley cat to be lurking among the candy bars.
Ganke paused, then turned his back on Miles to obtain a can of Pringles on the top shelf. Miles kept wandering a little further until he hit the sweets. He was tucking a packet of pecan swirls under his arm when he heard Ganke ask, “Miles?”
“Wassup?” he asked, reaching for another packet of the swirls.
“You have a lot of bad dreams.”
Miles startled and lost his grip on the four packets of pecan swirls tucked under his armpit.
Ganke continued, “a lot of times you don’t even wake up, I don’t even know if you remember--.”
“I remember them,” Miles said, crouching to collect his lost merchandise. He bit out the words and they rang harshly in even his own ears. He rushed to add, “I’m sorry if I keep you up.”
Ganke drifted closer and bent to hand Miles one of the packets.
As their hands made contact, Ganke stooped even further, so that his eyes met Miles’ and said, “dude, I’m always up.”
He nudged Miles with his foot “you know that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Miles said, “but still you shouldn’t have to—”
“If I accept your apology, will you shut up about it?” Ganke asked.
“Maybe,” Miles said
Ganke shoots him a raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” Miles shoots back, but he’s smiling when he says it.
With all their snacks acquired, the two of them moved on to the freezers on the back wall.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Miles said, as he flung open one of the freezer doors.
“Uh yeah I do, you’re Spider-Man, everyone in New York City worries about you, plus you’re my friend, so that’s double for me.”
Miles reached for a can of Sunkist and emerged from the freezer the same time that Ganke did with an AriZona Iced Tea.
“I’m just saying dude like I’m always up and I care so like if you ever want to talk or get out or anything, I’m here. No judgment, no explanations necessary.”
“Thanks, Ganke,” Miles said, his voice wavering in a dangerous way, “means a lot.”
“Least I could do,” Ganke said raising his can in an almost salute.
Ganke and Miles approached the counter and Adam glanced up long enough to snag their snacks, bag ‘em and shove them back into their hands. From up close, Miles could see that the front page of his magazine was plastered with various plants and gardening tools. Go figure.
Just as they were pushing open the door, without looking up, Adam said, “goodnight Spider-Man…and friend.”
“G’night,” they both called.
As soon as they cleared the store’s exit, Ganke said, “that guy was wild.”
“And that’s why I love Mitty Mart’s Market,” Miles said.
They started down the street again and the grocery bag swung loose in Miles’ hand.
As he and Ganke made their way down the street, Miles found he couldn’t stop staring at his friend. He didn’t know what it was, but something about him looked different. They’d stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the little white figure to appear on the walkway sign, when Ganke had finally had enough.
“Miles,” he groaned, “what is it? Please don’t tell me the swinging gave me a nosebleed of something ‘cause-”
“You look different man, something’s off.”
Miles leaned in for a closer look, and Ganke scoffed and gave Miles’ shoulder a light push.
“Ha ha,” Ganke said, voice flat, “we’re on a 2 AM excursion to the corner store, didn’t realize the attire was dress to impress.”
“It’s not,” Miles said with a shrug, “something just looks different is all.”
“Thanks, Miles,” Ganke said with a sarcastic grin, to rival Peter B.’s, “that sounded even better the second time you said it.”
The crosswalk sign flickered from the red hand to the white figure and Ganke announced, “I’d rather be in my own company than that of someone who insults me.”
Then Ganke turned on his heel, tilted his nose to the sky and briskly began to cross the street. As he did a sharp wind kicked up that sent his hair flying in all directions, it looked like a painter had just dipped his brush in black paint and went wild around Ganke’s head.
As Miles followed on Ganke’s heels he tried to think if he’d ever seen roommate with his hair so crazy, the guy was so polished he’d thought it impossible, but then Miles realized he barely saw Ganke’s hair at all because it was usually tucked under a beanie.
“Uhh Ganke,” Miles said, as he caught up to his friend across the street.
“Hmmm?”
“Where’s your uh--where’s your beanie?”
Ganke froze, midway through his next step. The guy who was walking behind him bumped into Ganke and grumbled something about “idiot kids” and “past their bedtime.”
Ganke, who Miles knew would have normally uttered a much better insult in return, barely even budged.
With an agonizing slowness, Ganke raised his hands to his head and lay them atop his uncovered hair. He pat the space a couple times, before letting his hands fall back to his side.
“It’s gone,” he said simply.
“Mmmhmm, it is,” Miles said.
Ganke barely responded.
“You okay?” Miles asked, putting a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Ganke lived for his beanies and had a lot of stories attached to most of them. Miles was honestly ready for any reaction his friend might have.
Ganke raised his head and then stared at Miles, his eyes narrowed and forehead creased. Miles knew that look, it either meant Ganke was scheming or on the brink of his next big idea.
“Well Spider-Man,” he said, the words leaving his lips in a sly manner, “I guess as your civic duty, you’ll have to give me another lift so that we can get a proper aerial search for it.”
Scheming it was.
“Ganke,” Miles groaned, “your beanie is black and it’s night, it’ll blend right in. Plus we were like crazy high!”
Ganke’s eyes went wide and somehow even more furrows appeared in his forehead. He shoved his hand in his pocket and dug around until he was able to whip out his phone.
“Well, then you leave me no other choice than to give you a bad review on Yelp.”
“A bad what now?”
“That’s right, you and your services are ranked, and you may have a pretty high rating now, but you won’t once me and my multiple accounts get through with you.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Miles said. He shoved the grocery bag into Ganke’s arms and crouched low. In the end, it took two loops over the course of 20 minutes for Miles and Ganke to find the beanie, hanging off a lamppost.
Back at their dorm, Miles and Ganke feasted themselves silly on snacks and slurped down their drinks. Ganke still had his term paper to finish so he snagged his laptop and clambered into his bunk. Miles, who would have normally pulled an all-nighter after a nightmare, actually crawled back into his bed.
“Hey Ganke,” Miles said as his eyes finally began to drift close.
“Yeah?” came the disembodied voice of his friend, floating from the bunk above him.
“I have a feeling I’m gonna sleep real easy these next couple nights.”
The gentle clacking of Ganke’s fingers against his keyboard paused.
“That’s good man; that’s real good.”
Miles yawned and rolled over on his side.
Nightmares sucked, but at least Miles knew if he had one, there’d be someone waiting to guide him back into the waking world; they would come complete with a gentle hold and an even gentler heart.