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“There’s no denying it. This is the best view of the city,” Gwen declared as she settled next to Miles. The sun had begun to set, a neon fist of fiery light, turning the soft blue sky vivid with clustered pink clouds. The nighttime buzz of New York slowly arose as lights flipped on, headlights shining over dark roads, the glowing signs of a million buildings flickering to life. Gwen couldn’t decide if she should consider the streets above or below them. When you were upside-down, such terminology was skewed.
“Absolutely the best view,” Miles agreed, though he seemed almost disappointed to say it. Gwen raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. “I wish more people could see the things we see,” he admitted. “I want to share this sight with the world.”
Gwen was amazed how her admiration of him only grew. She honestly thought she’d run out of praise for him by now, but the well never seemed to run dry. “You and your noble ways.” She nudged him with her shoulder, then laughed. “Better than me. I’m more than happy to keep this view to myself. We already give up so much for the world, we at least deserve this.”
Miles gave her his best scandalized expression. “Now, that’s not very heroic, is it, Gwen? Where’s your sense of self-sacrifice? ‘Great responsibility’ and all that?”
“Ugh.” Gwen rolled her eyes so hard she could feel herself putting every angsty teenager within fifty miles to shame. “I’m responsible for an entire city with a police force that wants me on trial for murder. I’d consider that self-sacrificing enough. You know I love the job, but still.” Her voice had gotten softer, more emotion emerging than she’d initially intended. “I wish I could be a normal kid. Just for a day.”
There was a pause, and Gwen felt guilty for bringing down the mood. It wasn’t often she could visit Miles, and their time together was precious, time she’d tried to keep as enjoyable as possible. Still, there was something about him, his universe, that brought all the emotion inside her bubbling up like a spring. She wondered if it was the color. The color in her dimension shifted to match her emotion, but in this world it was stubborn, unchanging. It forced her to vocalize her feelings, because they weren’t displayed in the environment around her.
“I get it.” Miles’ voice cut through her thoughts, his words just as soft. Gwen let herself smile. “Of course you do.” Like he got everything else. They understood each other.
“If you were a normal kid…” Miles seemed to choose his words thoughtfully, like he was picking them out of the air. “How different do you think your life would be? What would you be doing now?”
“Now?” Gwen paused to think, but she hadn’t needed to—she spent an unreasonable, probably destructive, amount of time considering the possibility. “I’d be in band rehearsal, most likely. I’m not sure which band, though—probably The Mary Janes, they were always my favorite.” She paused again. “After rehearsal I’d go to ballet class. I dropped out because of the whole Ghost-Spider thing, you know.”
Miles’ eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was too stressful to do both. I never had time to practice, and pointe really tires you out.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t hold it for long. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a ballerina more than anything in the world. Now, I’m not really sure what I want to be. I guess being Ghost-Spider has become my job.”
She glanced away, worried she’d made herself seem like she was fishing for sympathy, but Miles didn’t offer any apologies. Instead he said, “You’d be a pretty badass ballerina.”
Gwen laughed. “Rock drummer, ballerina—my hobbies don’t make much sense. What do you want to be? When you’re older?”
“An artist.”
“See, that makes sense. Murals? Portraits?”
“Comics.” Miles looked down, shyly. “Mostly comics, at least. Maybe write my own graphic novel.”
His downturned gaze meant he didn’t see Gwen smiling at him. She would have asked for more details, prodded further into his fantasy future, but something stopped her. She could tell he’d thought about it too, maybe not as much as she did, but it definitely crossed his mind how difficult it’d be to hold a steady job and be Spiderman at the same time. Especially a job like an artist—Miles was incredibly talented, but it was hard for someone to support themselves in such an industry even if they weren’t saving New York every week.
She turned her head toward the burning sunset. “Of course, if we were normal kids, we wouldn’t get this view.”
“Hm. Very true.” Miles looked up, and they watched the sun sink.
“I wouldn’t get this view, at least. I’d never even see your dimension. I wouldn’t know you at all.” Gwen clutched her chest exaggeratedly, like the idea was too much to bear, but she was only half-kidding.
Miles grinned. “You don’t know that. Maybe there’s a Miles Morales in your dimension who’s just a normal guy from Brooklyn.”
“No spider powers?”
“Nope.”
“No electricity? No invisibility on-command?”
“Nothing but good hair and peak music taste.”
“Seems like a dupe. I prefer my Miles,” Gwen said, then realized what she said and backtracked quickly. “You, I mean. I guess if there was a Miles in my dimension, he would be ‘my’ Miles—but when I said that, I meant—I meant you.” Oh, my God. She was going to throw herself off this skyscraper in embarrassment. Miles, who seemed equally caught off-guard, was looking down again. They were both such idiots.
There was a silence between them, and Gwen couldn’t tell what Miles was thinking, likely because she had no idea what to think herself. The quiet stretched on so long Gwen had opened her mouth to say something, anything to break it when Mikes asked, “Do you think there’s a dimension where we know each other, but neither of us have powers?”
Gwen leaned back, relieved for the question. “I don’t see why not. There’s an infinite number of dimensions, right?”
“What do you think that dimension is like?”
Gwen smiled. “Well, obviously, in that dimension you’re a famous artist. And I’m your biggest fan, of course. I buy all your graphic novels, and I get you to sign all my copies.”
Miles grinned. “And you, of course, are a famous rockstar—the best-known drummer in the world. I go to all of your performances. Every single one of them. Front seat, every time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d get you backstage.”
Miles’ smile grew. “You think we’d be able to collaborate sometime? I could design your stage. Maybe help with the setlist.”
“I’ve never met someone so confident about their music taste.”
“Well, it’s the only thing I’m really confident about.”
Gwen laughed loudly, raising a hand to cover her mouth, and her smiling eyes met Miles’ and didn’t look away. The sun had almost finished sinking behind the city, and its last bits of light cast the world around them in a brilliant orange glow. Orange. The color of creativity, youth, warmth. It was like being in Gwen’s dimension after all.
“I can’t imagine,” Gwen said quietly, eyes not straying from Miles’ face, “a dimension where I don’t know you.”
Miles looked back at her, expression thoughtful, then shook his head determinedly. “You know what? I don’t think there is one.”
Her tone became amused. “Oh, really?”
“Well, think about it. I don’t know a Gwen Stacy here, and you don’t know a Miles Morales in your universe. So our versions could’ve never known each other, but because of Kingpin and his collider, we met. Despite being from different dimensions, we met. Seems like we’re meant to find each other.”
Meant to find each other. The idea filled Gwen with something bright and weightless. And as silly as his logic was, she loved it. She really didn’t know if there was a Miles in her own universe, but he was right—because of the collider, because of that portal, she knew this Miles, her Miles. And he knew her. “Meant to find each other.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and felt him lean against her. She smiled. “I like the way you think.”
Together they watched the sun slip and vanish, its colorful streaks leaving with it. The last bits of orange light faded, but the warmth seemed to come from inside Gwen now, a luminous kind of hope she hadn’t even noticed had been set alight.