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Miles swung around the largely ruined city that one of his fondest friends resided in. Well, friend wasnt quite the word for him, but Miles didn't have time to think about that.
Tears rolled in fat globs down his face under his mask. At the edge of his mask's eye portion, warm tears seeped through the fabric. Miles could hear himself hiccuping and sniffling, but he could also hear the entirety of this city. He closed his eyes, feeling more tears run down his face, but trying to remember the way back to Hobie's sad excuse of an apartment. He had burned it into his mind, remembering all the twists and turns. When he reopened his eyes, it was just in time to prevent slamming into a brick wall and begin crawling up to Hobie's window. Miles scaled the wall, adrenaline pumping through his veins in twitching, icy shocks.
When he reached Hobie's balcony and climbed atop it, he seemed to remember where he was and why and how it was embarrassing. He immedietly froze and began backing up to get off the balcony, eyes scanning the balcony until he came across the one and only Hobart Brown. So much for leaving. Maybe he could still back away? Not while Hobie was looking at him though.
Hobie was staring at him with the same smooth expression he always had. When Mikes saw him, he froze like a deer in headlights. Hobie's eyes raked over Miles' body, before taking a long drag of the blunt inbetween his fingertips. Before breathing it out, he opened his mouth to do a ghost. Whisps of smoke poured out of his mouth in a way that hypnotized Miles, like clouds flying and swirling, until Hobie sucked them back into his lungs and looked back at Miles.
“Ya aig’ there Miles? You ain’ lookin’ too fit.”
Miles remembered very suddenly why he was here. Why he was actually here, that is. Because he trusted Hobie. He trusted Hobie and he needed to talk to him. About his canon events, about how he felt, about who he was. Because last time he had smoked with Hobie, he had offered. Hobie had told Miles, if he needed someone to talk to, that he would listen. “No mat’uh what.” He had said. “I kno’ all’uv our stories ar’da same, but i wan’uh kno’ yours.” He had said. And now, Miles needed someone to listen. He hadn’t really told anyone his actual feelings. The whole story. Now he felt like he needed to tell someone, because he had been too late and frozen up again.
“Yeah man I, uh, have to talk to you. About a couple things.” Miles muttered, voice uncharacteristically quiet and blank. His voice waivered slightly, indicating to Hobie this was more emotional than anything Miles had said to him directly before.
Hobie watched silently as Miles pulled his mask off, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes at Miles’ tear stained cheeks. Hobie knew Miles was being vunerable- possibly more vunerable than he had ever been. That made Hobie a bit weary- he wasn’t always the best with emotions, but he would try for Miles. Miles had always had his heart more on his sleeve then Hobie did. Hobie took a breath, eyes staying on Miles’ face.
“Com’n sit mate.” Hobie finally said, patting the empty spot of bare concrete next to him twice before peeling his eyes away from Miles.
Miles stood still. Then he took a few steps forward and crumpled down next to Hobie. He fished around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a silver baggie that cost him way more than the numerous cans of spray paint in his bag back at his dorm in his universe. He tossed it Hobie’s way, knowing his spider sense would help him catch it.
“What’s ‘is for mate?”
“I thought we could chill for a bit man.” Miles replied. Nothing more, nothing less.
That wasn’t like him. Hobie noticed that almost immedietly, but took some paper out of his pocket and stubbed out the now roach he had been previously using in his ashtray. He grinded and portioned the weed carefully with a cracked fake id, rolling it up on the concrete and putting the rest in the baggie for later. He lit the blunt, taking a drag out of it before handing it to Miles, who mirrored his movements. They repeated these movements multiple times, until Hobie broke the silence.
“Yu had sum’thin to talk ‘bout with me?”
Miles looked at him, then at the ground, then back at him.
“Yeah. It’s.. not a huge deal.”
“Innit? Ya seem’d pretty shak’n’d up.”
Miles looked at his hands, open palms sitting in his lap. He felt his face heating up, he saw the tears come back on his eyelashes. He felt them fall onto his hands. He saw Hobie’s hand creep into his vision. He watched as his hand, rough and callused, reached over his lap and up to his face. He felt Hobie cup his chin, he felt him wipe his tears with his thumb, and he felt him turn his chin up and around. He was now looking straight at Hobie. And Hobie was looking straight at him. Time seemed to slow down.
The first thing that Miles thought about when this happened was the fact that what Hobie was doing was not very platonic. In fact, it was pretty far from platonic- according to Miles, at least. He was looking into Hobie’s eyes. His eyes were hooded, his eyes were soft, his irises seemed to blend into his pupil. His eyes were round, his eyes were pretty. Since when had Hobie’s eyes been so pretty? Miles wasn’t sure. Miles wasn’t sure when the jealousy about Gwen turned to the jealousy about not being Gwen. Miles wasn’t sure when the admiration turned to attraction. He wasnt sure when his hair, his personality, his eyes, his everything, went from cool to captivating. He wasnt sure when it had changed, But now that he was looking into Hobie’s dark brown eyes, he noticed how much it changed. How much he prayed to feel Hobie’s touch more, prayed to hear Hobie’s voice more, prayed for more of Hobie. He felt himself pop out of his trance at Hobie’s voice.
“Ya’ sure it’s not’a big deal luv?” Hobie muttered, voice quieter, softer, sweeter. He was talking like he was going to scare Miles, like he needed to protect him. His face was a blank slate, but his eyes and voice revealed his care. Tears poured down Miles’ cheeks, and as they did, Hobie wiped them off. Miles looked at him, getting lost in his eyes, his eyes that reminded him of his father, of his uncle, of his spiderman, and everything he had been through. The eyes that pulled him back to earth from his worst episodes. The eyes that grounded him in his worst panic attacks. Miles felt his lungs close up, felt his eyes close, felt a sob claw it’s way out of his throat. He hid his face in Hobie’s hand.
Hobie watched Miles as he dissolved into sobs. He remembered what he had said to him, about how he wanted to hear his story. He rubbed his thumb against Miles’ cheek, shushing him quietly and waiting for him to calm. He lifted his other hand, placing the blunt gently on the concrete before doing so, and wraped his arm around his back. He pulled Miles closer, half hugging him, and rubbed his back. He felt the sobs wracking his friend’s body, and he felt him curl into his touch, like it was foreign to him. Hobie waited patiently for him to stop crying. When he eventually did, Miles peeked back at Hobie from his hand, eyes catching onto Hobie’s gaze once more.
“Gonna tell me wha’s wrong mate?” Hobie asked Miles, with that same nonchalant tone he always had, with that same look in his eyes he always had, with that same aura that Miles had been crushing over.
“Man i just, i-“ Miles cut himself off with another sob.
“Hey, it’s okay mate, it’s okay. Take your time.”
“Uh, okay, remember when you said you wanted to hear my story?” Miles said, stuttering on a few words.
“Sure do.” Hobie replied, beginning to rub his back again.
“Well, I, uh, want to tell you it.”
“Alrigh’ luv, i got plenty’a time.” Hobie was talking carefully, patiently even, gently touching Miles like he was going to fall apart under his fingers.
It felt like they were the only people in Hobie’s city as Miles tucked into his backstory, the occasional sobs breaking up his calm. He told Hobie about his universe’s Peter Parker’s death. He told him the story of finding Peter, of finding Gwen, of finding all the other spider-people in his universe. He told him about how they didnt believe in him. He tole Hobie about how he felt like he didnt deserve his spot as spiderman. He told him about the final fight. He told him about his uncle. He told him about his dad. He told him, through many tears, that he had failed his attempt to stop him canon event. He told him about how long he sat crumpled over his father’s body, how the first thing he did was go back to his room and grab that baggie, then go to Hobie’s universe. He told him how he swang through the city, and he told him how he almost left. And then he paused, took a breath, and broke his rant.
“Thanks for listening, Hobes. It feels nice to get all that out.” Hobie responded with a shake of his head and a hum. Their position had since changed, Miles curled up under Hobies arm, and at some point the blunt had come back to ease Miles’ nerves. It apparently did so a little too well, as Miles prepared to tell Hobie what he was about to.
“But I actually have one more thing to tell you about.” Miles muttered, looking back up at Hobie.
“Yeah luv, wha’ssup?” Hobie broke his own silence, looking at Miles expectantly.
Miles looked at the ground, then back at Hobie.
“I like you. I have for a while now. I know it’s weird, I’ll leave if you want me to.”
Hobie paused. Miles watched his eyes widen, he watched his eyebrows quirk. He watched him reach his hand back up to his chin. And he watched him lean forward and kiss him. Miles’ own eyes widened, but he closed then and melted into the kiss.
The June air made them warm, a comfortable temperature next to eachother. They sat close together, on a concrete balcony, overlooking a fallen-apart town, absorbed in eachother. The blunt was long forgotten when they began the kiss. When they pulled apart, Hobie placed the weed to the side.
“You ‘ave no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that luv.” Hobie confessed, normally smooth expression gracing Miles with a smile. “I’ve ‘ad a massive embarrassin’ crush on ya since foreva.”
Before Miled could react, Hobie pulled him onto his back and layed next to him. They looked at the sky for a moment, at the stars, before Miles turned to Hobie. Hobie was looking at him already, expectantly as always.
“So, boyfriends?” Miles asked, nervousness clear on his face. Hobie chuckled audibly.
“Boyfriends.”
And then they laid back, looking at the stars.