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You don’t belong here.
Miles woke up with a startle. He saw a well-known, familiar ceiling of his room. Not Miguel. Not the-other-Miles. It wasn’t the first time Miles had a nightmare. After Uncle Aaron’s death, when guilt was burning inside of him, he sometimes found himself in his room in the middle of the night, laying on his side and listening to the cars outside. Eventually, it would lull him to sleep.
Nightmares were never that intense before Miles messed with the multiverse again.
He would wake up and not realize where he was at first. He would wake up still feeling the wind in his hair, Miguel’s hands on his shoulders and Peter B’s voice, begging O’Hara to go easy on him. He would wake up feeling broken and scared, he would feel pain in his body and he would feel the urge to run, swing away from hundreds of spider-people chasing after him. He would wake up, feeling the fear cradling in his chest as he felt like he was tied to the punching bag and the-other-Miles’s hand was right next to his cheek. He would wake up with a horrible thought that his father is dead or on the verge of dying. He would wake up feeling so alone it would physically hurt. So helpless he wanted to scream. And sometimes he woke up feeling all of the above.
I will take everything from you like you took everything from me.
Miles got out of his bed. Sometimes, when he felt like he could move, he would go to the kitchen and make himself some tea. Today was one of those nights. Miles carefully, to not wake his parents up, walked to the kitchen. He looked at the clock. It was 3 am in the morning. He already knew how to open the drawers without any noise and the sound of the kettle never seemed to bother his sleeping parents. So he turned it on, took a cup and a packet of chamomile tea.
Miles breathed in and out. Nightmares were difficult to shake off. Miles felt childish and stupid, but sometimes he was scared of the dark of the apartment. He felt like if he stood there long enough, someone would eventually appear from the dark. Miguel. Or any of the spider-people that were chasing him. Or Miles and Uncle Aaron from Earth 42. Or Spot.
His spider-senses suddenly spiked and Miles’s body reacted quicker than his mind did. He clenched his fist and turned around. His fist was stopped by someone’s hand. Miles felt fearful and a bit helpless. His spider-senses went through the roof and he tried to get out from someone’s hold.
“-les, Miles, Miles, mate.” Miles heard a familiar voice and he stopped squirming. Only one person in his life called him mate. “Chill. It’s me, it’s Hobie.”
Miles opened his eyes. He didn’t even realize he had closed them. In front of him was Hobie. He let go of Miles’s fist, looking at him with an expression Miles could explain as worried.
“Sorry.” he said, looking down.
“My bad I approached you from behind.” Hobie shrugged.
They were silent for a little bit. Miles looked at the kettle that turned off.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking on my guy.” Hobie answered as if it was obvious.
“It’s three in the morning.”
They went silent again. Miles made himself tea and took a sip, calming the bits of anxiety that still lingered to him from Hobie’s unexpected visit. Hobie didn’t seem to be interested in tea, looking at Miles instead, as if he was trying to read Miles’s mind.
“How’d you get here?” Miles asked, not facing Hobie and looking inside his tea cup instead.
“Bedroom window.” Hobie said in a manner that let Miles know that Hobie is not interested in talking about this. “Pav was upset that you haven’t showed up for a while.”
“Oh.” Miles hasn't realized how long ago he actually saw Pavitr. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll go check on him as soon as I–”
“Margo also said you guys haven’t talked in a while. Last time Gwendy saw ya, you crashed into a building full speed while swingin’.” Miles was quiet. He didn’t know how he could explain himself on that. He felt like an awful friend. “Listen mate, I know existence sucks sometimes, but ya know, when it gets hard you can rely on us. Come and talk, man. Don’t just disappear without a note.”
It was awkwardly silent. Miles stares in his cup of tea.
“I’m sorry. I will–”
“I didn’t come here to get an apology, I came here to make sure you’re alright.”
You don’t belong here.
“I’m fine. Sorry for not informing anyone.”
Hobie didn’t move. He raised his eyebrows, still looking at Miles.
“I respect it if ya started protesting against the sleep schedule, but it wasn’t the reason you were awake at 3 in the morning, eh?”
You’re never going to belong.
Miles must’ve stayed silent for a little too long, because Hobie moved closer to him.
“What’s going on with ya, mate?”
“I’m fine, I just wanted something to drink.” Miles felt that it was harder for him to hold it all together while Hobie was here.
“You only ever drink tea when you’re with Pav.” Miles imagined how Pavitr would’ve thrown a monologue about the difference between chai and tea if he was here, but Hobie didn’t seem to care about it right now. Miles felt that Hobie was looking straight at him. “I’m not buying that. Talk.”
I will take everything from you like you took everything from me.
And in that very moment, Miles realized how desperately he doesn’t want Hobie to leave. But he couldn’t talk. He couldn’t bother Hobie with that.
“Miles?” Hobie’s hand was now supporting the cup in Miles’s hands, ready to take it.
“I’m okay.”
Hobie huffed, but there was no anger in that. “You’re shaking, mate.”
Miles distantly realized he was.
You don’t belong here. You’re the anomaly. You’re never going to belong. You’re a kid who has no idea what you’re doing. I will take–
Suddenly, Miles wasn’t holding a cup anymore. Hobie wrapped his hands around Miles, holding him tight. And despite Hobie holding him together, he broke. Tears started to fall and Hobie hugged Miles tighter. Miles wrapped his shaky arms around Hobie.
Neither of them said anything as Miles quietly sobbed, clenching his arms on Hobie’s jacket. His cheek was touching Hobie’s suit, not the cold hand of the-other-Miles. The hands on his back weren’t about to rip Miles apart, quite the opposite, they seemed to be something that isn’t letting Miles to crumble. Hobie stood firmly in his place, he was something stable while everything around Miles seemed to fall apart.
Miles didn’t know how long they stood there, but even when Miles’s sobs trailed off, Hobie hadn't moved from his place nor did he pull away from the hug.
“You try to hold it together for long, eh?” he finally said.
“I didn’t want to bother anybody.” Miles tried to explain himself. “Didn’t want to seem weak.”
“You’re everything but weak, my man.” Hobie said firmly. “Next time come to us sooner. We’ve been worried sick, mate. Considered the possibility that you ran into another conflict with Miguel and you’re distancing yourself from us.”
“What? No, it’s all go-”
“Mhm.” Hobie pulled away from the hug and looked Miles in the eyes. “Next time come to us. Anyone. We care, ya know. Just come and talk.”
“Yeah, okay.” Miles breathed in and out. He really did feel better, even though there was still an uneasy feeling.
“What’s up?” Hobie seemed to notice the same thing Miles did.
“I just…I don’t wanna come back to sleep.” Distantly, Miles thought how childish this sounds. Hobie didn’t seem to think the same.
“Then don’t.” he said simply. “C'mon, let’s go somewhere where we don’t have to stand all the time.”
They ended up in his room, sitting on Miles’s bed. This place had different vibes when Hobie was here, because Miles felt safe around him.
They were quiet for a little bit, before Hobie looked at Miles.
“Talk.” he said.
Miles took a deep breath in and started talking.