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The first time Miles ever saw you was at his dad's funeral.
He remembers it well. Your chubby face, cheeks round with baby fat. Your eyes wide, full of confusion as you looked around at the unfamiliar faces. Your hair combed neatly, and your black clothes pressed and ironed. You stood out to him like a sunflower in the middle of the cemetery.
The conversations around him became blurry, and the scenes of the churchgoers suddenly felt so far away. He felt like he was a few inches from the ground, floating aimlessly and weightlessly. He wished he could just get out of that damn place, away from those who wouldn't stop crying in his face and asking him questions that he didn't know the answer to.
He looked back at the casket where his dad lay. His heart and chest felt so empty, like it had been since his mom came to him with tears running down her face that day.
He glanced at you once more. Elle girasol.
When your parents came over to speak to his mom, they had dragged you with them. He remembers the way you stared at him, while he avoided your gaze with all his might. There was a look in your eyes that he couldn't decipher. It was either confusion, or pity, or you just simply didn't care what kind of convention you were at.
"We'll always be here, should you need us," Your dad had said to his mom.
"Yes, Rio," Your mom agreed, before gesturing to you. "And so will this little one."
"Thank you, really," His mom said, and he could feel her looking down at him. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze. "I'm just... worried about how this is going to affect Miles. He's so young, and he hasn't spoken at all since..."
Her voice broke.
Miles doesn't remember how the rest of that day went.
-
The next time he saw you was on the first day of school, and he realized, while in a panicked state, that he was going to share the same class with you for the entire year. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He was terrified. And even more so when he saw the tear running on your face.
You cried and cried and wouldn't stop crying no matter how hard the teacher tried to calm you down. And you kept saying that you wanted your "mommy." You were one stubborn bitch back then as well, acting like the only vocabulary you knew was "No!"
Miles couldn't lie, he found you so utterly annoying then. He couldn't understand why you had to act that way. Sure, it was his first day at school, too, and he was anxious to be away from his mom, too, but he wasn't throwing fits to the point where his face was covered in snot and red as a tomato.
From that day on, he decided to never need you, contrary to what your parents said.
-
But at age twelve, Miles discovered that he was wrong.
So. Very. Wrong.
The majority of his life was spent training with Uncle Aaron to become the Prowler. Every day, every hour of his life that was not spent at school or at home helping his mom in the kitchen, was spent in his uncle's apartment, throwing jabs at his punching bag until his knuckles bruised and were cut open.
So when he began to have those fluttering sensations in his stomach whenever he saw you at school every morning, he was puzzled—What was this feeling in his body? Why does it tickle? Is it a heart attack? Does it pass as an excuse to go home?
You weren't the most beautiful person ever, nor were you the most popular. But there was something about you that made him unable to take his eyes off of you. There was this... certain energy that drew him to you.
You were kind to him, always. Even on days where he was significantly more agitated and snappy, you were always nice to him. You didn't look at him weirdly when he chose you as his partner for a group project, you didn't shun him away when he sat next to you in class, and you would scream at the mean bullies who made fun of him for not having a dad.
But you and him still weren't friends. You didn't sit together during lunch, didn't talk outside of the one class you shared with each other, and didn't even see each other after school despite living a block away from each other. The only reason you and Miles seemed to have a string attached between your bodies was because your parents were acquainted, and you had seen him at one of his most vulnerable moments.
How strange. Not knowing someone, yet having witnessed their lowest.
It wasn't until that year's Valentine's Day that Miles realized he had a crush on you. All this time, he dismissed the weird, tickly feeling in his stomach, and the way his heartbeats sounded a lot louder in his ears whenever you flashed a smile in his way, but when you came into class, standing in front of him with a pink letter and a pouch of homemade chocolates, he finally realized that he was in love with you.
Sure, he wasn't the only person to get your Valentine's chocolates, and it was only a friendly gift from you (which you had probably already forgotten about), he still fell head over heels for you.
And Uncle Aaron was the only person to know about it.
"Shii... that kid, huh? I remember 'em," His uncle had said while sipping on a Coke, lounging on his couch after a tiring after-school training session. "Parents are good people, helped us out a lot during rough times. You gotta be careful with the dad, though, Miles, he's a tough guy."
"Why, Unc?" Poor, innocent Miles.
Uncle Aaron's raised in a quizzical way, "Why what?"
"Why do I gotta be careful?"
"Because, Miles, dads are protective of they kids."
"Oh."
Miles thought long and hard about it. Dads are protective of their kids. His dad was protective of him. He was sure. The same way your dad was with you. He probably wouldn't want somebody who was going to become the Prowler, someone who fights and kills in the name of protecting the weak and defenseless, to be with his kid. But what if Miles were to protect you? Take care of you in place of your dad in his place? Would that allow him to see Miles in a better light?
-
His questions were answered the day before your thirteenth birthday, when your dad pulled him aside during the preparation of your surprise birthday party to talk to him.
"How's that Prowler thing goin' for you?" He asked, to Miles's surprise.
"It's... alright," Miles said awkwardly, looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping.
Your dad had never looked at Miles with such gentleness and trust before. He remembered just last year, he was glaring at Miles in disgust, criticizing him for doing all the things that his dad would've wanted him not to do. It was shocking how different it was now.
"Miles, I know I wasn't the most accepting when I found out," Your dad said, placing a hand on his shoulder. His accent was thick, and Miles tried his best to listen and make out what he was saying. "But, I have been thinking about it... And I'm sorry."
The boy was silent.
"I'm sorry... for what I said," The man continued on. "For everything that I said to you. I thought you were going to turn out like one of those... delinquents. People who steal. Fight. People who put my kid in danger."
Miles immediately shook his head, "No, I'd never-"
"I know, I've seen you." For the first time ever, Miles saw your dad soften. "For the past year, crimes here in Brooklyn... no more. All thanks to you." He pointed a finger at Miles's chest, which drew a wide, toothy smile from the boy.
"That's why I wanna ask you to protect my kid. Be at my sunshine's side. Always."
-
Miles made a promise to your dad that he would be, practically, stalking you for a grand per month.
Now, in hindsight, was that the kind of deal a thirteen-year-old should be making with someone much, much older than him? No. And did he know where your dad was getting all that money? Also no. But your dad trusted him, and Miles loved you more than he loved the city itself.
The deal meant that Miles would be your personal bodyguard until either he or you died, and that he would stay with you, regardless of whether or not there are feelings involved. That meant that even if you went and dated another guy, married, or even had kids with him, Miles would still be there on the sidelines. And it meant, that if you ever found out and despised both him and your dad for it, Miles would still be there.
"Even if I get a restraining order against me?"
"Miles, nobody cares about a restraining order in this city."
And so, he watched over you.
When he wasn't in the Prowler suit, hiding in the dark, he was six feet behind you. He was always quiet, and so naturally, he blended right in and you never noticed. He watched you while you experienced life—Your happiness when you got the highest mark out of the entire class in Algebra, your sulking when you forgot to do an assignment once and got the most shit for it (he was close to beating the teacher up), or when you had your first kiss with someone else.
Oh.
His first heartbreak, it seemed.
Miles watched as you got into a relationship with this guy in freshman year. It wasn't a nice feeling, knowing that a white jock had better game than he did. But he couldn't do anything about it. So he simply continued to watch from the background while you sat at lunch with your boyfriend and his group of assholes, laughing your head off and sometimes sucking his face like there wasn't anyone else around.
Miles was disgusted, but you seemed so... happy, though he was sure he could make you even happier than that.
He tried hard to keep his feelings buried and wish you the best with your relationship, but how could he? Every day that he woke up, he dreaded going to school because it meant that he would see you—Your beautiful face, eyes, hair, and that showstopper of a smile on your face.
And everytime he told himself that he was going to keep this whole bodyguard thing professional, you would walk into the room and have him fall in love all over again.
That was why it threw Miles right off of his roller coaster of emotions when he caught your dear boyfriend cheating on you with a girl named Jessica.
It was on what felt like a normal Friday in October, sophomore year, during lunch, when Miles was trying to get back to school in time for his next class after being called on duty unexpectedly by Uncle Aaron. Most of the kids were in the lunchroom, so the hallways were quiet.
He only wanted to get his stuff from his locker, but instead, he ran into your boyfriend making out with one of the popular girls underneath a dark staircase.
At first, he had thought it was you, and was going to painstakingly step aside and wait until you were done. But then he heard them talk, and he realized that neither voices belonged to you. And it was only when he took a peak at them that he realized.
It wasn't you.
Miles felt conflicted for days after that. Was he glad that now you had a reason to break up with your unfaithful piece of shit of a boyfriend? Was he mad that you got betrayed like that? Was he sad for you? He didn't know.
Maybe he should have told you about it, face-to-face. But what were the chances that you would believe him? You weren't close, at least not in the conventional way. In any case, it probably would've driven you away from him. His best option was to leave you a subtle note, or somehow help you catch your cheating boyfriend.
But before he could do that, Miles learned that his family was invited to a block gathering.
At...
Your family's place.
Miles wishes he could say that he didn't spend an entire hour picking an outfit that he thought was cool enough to impress you, but he did. He even sent pictures to Uncle Aaron to get his opnion. That was how down bad he was for you.
It was kind of embarrassing how Miles treated it like he was going on a date with you—Standing in front of the mirror, licking his teeth, making sure they were nice and clean, dusting off his shoes, wanting to refresh his braids even though he only had gotten them done two weeks ago, even going as far as to putting on chapstick.
"Miles Morales," He had said to himself in the mirror. "You're an idiot."
In the end, he got insecure and decided to just wear what he usually wore instead—Dark baggy jeans, his favorite graphic white tee, a large oversized lilac hoodie, and the black puffer jacket that he wore literally everywhere. All with his purple Jordans.
Now all that he needed to do was to not humiliate the shit out of himself.
-
"Miles! Oh my goodness, you've grown so much!"
"Miles, Rio! So good to see you here!"
"Miles!"
All these faces, all these people, all this greetings and all he could think of was where the fuck were you?
It wasn't that big of a gathering, but when you crammed at least five different families, his included, into an average laundromat, it was bound to get pretty cramped. Miles was busy muttering tiny excuse me's and brushing past some old ladies who couldn't stop pestering him about how well his mama had raised him, but he still didn't see you anywhere.
"Miles, hijo, try these cookies."
"Maybe not right now, mami."
The gathering was to celebrate your family's laundromat getting newly renovated, which looked... alright. It seemed like your dad had installed more washers, and invested in a proper cash register and some better funitures. Even the LED's were a little better, as in they weren't bothering Miles as much.
"Miles! My boy!"
His head whipped around, and there stood your dad.
"Oh my gosh, hiiii," Rio seemed happier than anyone else to get out of the house for once.
"What's good, tío," Miles cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, your dad didn't seem to mind, however.
"Everything's going well, I hope?"
Miles knew what that meant. How's it going with my kid?
"All good," He hoped his smile didn't come off as forced. "By any chance, is, uh, is...?"
"In the kitchen in the back," The older man cocked his head toward a door by the back wall. "My little sunshine is in a... stubborn phase. Wouldn't come out and say hello, so I told 'em to at least help out back there."
"Is it okay if I... go see 'em?"
Your dad barely nodded before Miles disappeared from the whole thing. He speed-walked toward the door, with a kiss to his confused mom's temple, and pushed the door open.
First thing he saw was a small, narrow hallway that led into a bigger room. The lighting wasn't the best, but he could make out your form, your back facing him, standing over at the counter. You were doing something that he couldn't see, and you didn't seem to hear him when he called out your name either.
In all honesty, Miles had no idea what he was doing or what his plan was. Sure, go see you alone at your family gathering and say hi, then what else? Does he stay with you in the kitchen, watching you do whatever? Does he try to strike up a conversation with you even though he sucked at it?
Just be cool 'bout it. Easier said than done.
Miles walked up until he was right beside you.
"Hey-"
"HJDKJSK!"
Miles narrowly ducked the swing of a wooden spoon, "Woah!"
"Miles? Miles!" Was the first thing you said when you finally looked at his cowering form on the floor. He stared up at you, mouth agape, while you plucked the earbuds out of your ears. You looked pretty, even if your brows were furrowed and your eyes wide. "Dude, you scared me!"
"Wasn't my intention, 'm sorry." Miles slowly stood back up, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt his face burn up. His eyes quickly scanned the counter in front of you, where there was a pile of dishes in the sink and next to it, all of them soapy and dripping wet. "What you doin' back here?"
"Doing my chore 'cause I haven't done it in a week," You said, turning away as you went back to drying the clean plates with a towel.
"And miss out on the fun out there?"
"I doubt it's any more fun than being a misogynistic stereotype here."
Miles pursed his lips at that and simply nodded. You didn't seem like you were in your best mood. He looked at you closely, taking note of the fact that you were still in your PJ's—Fuzzy pants with a teddy bear print and a faded AC/DC tee shirt that was honestly way too big for you. Your hair was unkempt, unlike how it looked at school on most days. You weren't wearing any makeup either, you really must have not intended to come out at all.
The last time he saw you like this was probably when you both were ten years old. He hadn't realized how different you had grown since.
When he saw the way your movements were sluggish, and the prominent bags under your eyes that weren't there before, he slipped off his jacket and scooted in next to you, grabbing the towel and plates from you without another word.
"What are you doing?"
"Helpin'."
"I didn't ask."
"I know, but I wanna," Miles mumbled as he dried off the plates and bowls, before handing them to you so you could put them back in the cabinets. "You look like you haven't slept in days. You okay?"
You glanced at him through tired, half-lidded eyes. "Why do you care?"
Your nonchalant words made him wince. He had almost forgotten, you didn't know. You didn't know he had been watching you at school, behind you when you walk home, and at night through your window on his way home from nightly patrols.
"'cause..." His voice trailed off. He kept glancing at you, while you were spaced out and staring at the sloshing water in the sink. "We haven't talked in a while. Just wanted to... check on you."
"Did my dad tell you to do that?"
"W-What?"
You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. Unbeknownst to you, Miles was freaking out. "My dad is literally so paranoid. He thinks I'm doing drugs whenever I'm not at home, said that's why I look like this." You vaguely gestured to yourself. "He's making you pry it out of me, isn't he?"
"No, no, no..." Miles shook his head. "I was just worried, that's all."
When you looked at him, it was like your eyes were impaling through his soul. You didn't look so kind anymore, you look like you despised him. "Look, I'd wanna talk about what's been bothering me, but I just don't wanna... Not here, alright?"
Miles passed you the last set of utensils and began to drain the water, "Wanna get outta here?"
He was sure you were going to reject him, but then you sighed and crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter.
"Sure."
He bit back the smile that was going to etch onto his face.
"For real you wanna go with me?"
"Yeah, just—Let me fix myself up first."
-
Miles had no idea what went into "doing makeup" and "fixing up," but he sure was surprised to see how different you looked, but not in the bad way. He was more... amazed by how your dark eye bags had disappeared, and your skin looked smoother than suddenly you were so much livelier. You were the version that he saw at school once more.
The two of you had snuck out of your house through another door that didn't go through the laundromat, saving yourselves from having to stay for a good thirty minutes greeting all of your relatives and neighbors.
You hadn't really talked about where you wanted to go, all Miles knew was that you needed to get away for a moment and get some fresh air.
On the way, you and Miles stopped at a small bakery (You were staring at their pastries through the display window and kept lingering despite saying that you didn't want any, so Miles dragged you inside and bought you that espresso chocolatine that you were practically drooling over.)
"Oh my god, goddamn," You said after the first bite, your eyes wide and nodding at Miles approvingly. "Oh my freaking god, mhm, this is amazing."
Miles was aware of the dorky grin on his face, but made no efforts to hide it, "I'm glad."
"I've been wanting to try that place for so long," You took another bite. Miles thought you looked adorable with the way your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel. "Want some?"
"Nah, I'm good."
He looked up, and suddenly, he had a brilliant idea.
"Hey, you wanna stay out and watch the sunset?"
Miles wished he could tattoo the sight of your face lighting up into his brain.
And so, he took you back to his apartment building, where the two of you climbed the stairs, stopping every minute for you to take another bite out of your big ass chocolatine while Miles stood in front of you with his palms under your chin to catch the crumbs and flakes.
Then, lo and behold, the two of you stood on the rooftop, and before you, was the vast sky painted orange and pink and purple hues. To say it was gorgeous was an understatement, it was... unbelievable. It was the kind of view that you had to see in person to truly be able to appreciate it.
"Wow..." You said.
"Wow," Miles agreed, but he was looking at you.
"If I knew how much fun it'd be to hang out with you," You leaned over the railing with a soft exhale. "I would've done it for often."
"Hm," The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. He stood next to you, studying your features closely—Your eyes, your lashes, the slope of your nose, and the shape of your lips as they illuminated in the golden sunset. "So, you wanna talk about what's been bothering you now?"
You tensed for a moment, but then quickly relaxed. You didn't look at him, but instead stared off at the city skyline in front of you.
"I'm thinking about breaking up with Jax."
"Oh?"
What Miles wanted to say was, final-fucking-ly!
But he had to keep his cool. He was there to comfort you and support you, not swoop in and steal you away from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend as soon as he got the chance to.
"Why? Did he do sum'?"
Your shoulders dropped, and you violently chewed on the last corner bit of your chocolatine. "Don't even get me started. He's been acting distant for no reason. He takes hours to reply to my texts, won't answer my calls, and always says he's too busy to go on dates with me. He's like... a different person."
Miles bit down on his lower lip.
I know why he's acting like that.
But he didn't say it. He put on the best empathetic face he could, and forced a sigh, "I never thought he was good for you."
He's cheating on you!
You glanced at him, and for the first time ever, he felt like he could truly see how broken and tired you were. "You're not the first person to say that."
"Certainly won't be the last," Miles mumbled. His eyes flickered toward you lips for a second, before he reached out to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Are you happy with him? Does Jax make you happy?"
You thought about it for a moment, "Well, he used to. I used to love being with him. He was super attentive and everything. But recently... it's like he doesn't even care anymore."
"When are you planning to break up with him?"
You were avoiding eye contact, he could tell.
"I was gonna text him later but... I don't know if I could do it."
"Why not?" Miles's furrowed his brows. Nothing could compare to his urge to kiss you, to show you exactly how much he loved you in that moment.
"I just..." You sighed and licked your teeth. "I love him, Miles."
He winced. Visibly. But you didn't notice.
"He's my first everything..." You continued, picking at the skin around your cuticles. "We've been dating for a year! He made me feel like I was the most special person on the planet, he made me feel like I... meant something. And now I don't even know anymore."
"You always mean something. To your parents, your friends..." Miles leaned closer to you. "To me..." He ignored the way your eyes widened. "Like, I get it, first love is always a big deal, but don't let it overshadow everything else that's in your life. You are special. And you deserve someone who makes you feel that way, not some... white jock who literally has cornrows in his head and probably doesn't even clean his ass crack."
And for the first time in the entire evening, you laughed.
Miles Morales managed to make you laugh. Genuinely, too.
"I'm being serious! You're dating a white boy who thinks he's black!"
"I know, I know, I really should end it," Your laughter calmed into a smile.
"You promise?"
Another breathtaking smile. "I promise."
-
A week later, and your relationship with Jax Evans came to a screeching halt.
Miles didn't know the exact details of how you decided to bring it up and end it. All he knew was that Jax came to school pissed as hell and was snapping at anybody and everybody who dared talk to him, including the teachers.
The audacity to act like that when he had been cheating on you for who-knows-how-long.
He couldn't bring himself to single you out from the crowd to ask you about it, thinking that you probably needed some space. But he was still looking after you, just to make sure trouble didn't follow you after what he could only assume was a nasty breakup.
The two of you didn't talk after your evening together on that rooftop. It wasn't anything new, so he decided not to question it, even though he was hoping that something would happen. Anything. Anything that would allow him to be closer to you.
But, when he said anything, he really didn't think of... this.
It was supposed to be his day-off.
He was supposed to be home with his mom.
Instead, he found himself at Marco's birthday party, on the verge of losing his shits.
The scene in front of him made his blood boil. It was you, the love of his life, in a skimpy outfit, drunk out of your mind, and passed out on a stranger's couch. And on either ends of your body, grabbing your ankle and behind your shoulders, looking like they were going to take you else where, were two boys who he recognized from school.
He didn't remember their names, but he remembered beating the crap out of both boys.
He remembered knocking them off their feet and kicking them in their faces until their noses broke and they damn near choked on their own blood. He remembered being so furious that some puny bitches dared to lay hands on you while you were knocked out cold. He remembered not stopping until Marco's friends pulled him away from those boys.
What happened after that was a blur, all he knew was that he spent a good half an hour looking for your friends at the party with you on his back. The way everybody looked at him was mortifying, but he soon forgot it.
When he wasn't able to, he decided to carry you all the way back to another one of your friends's house, where he dropped you off and instructed your friend on how to care for you.
"Wait, are you guys, like, dating?"
Your friend caught him off guard.
He wished he could say yes, but he knew that was a lie.
"No, just... Nevermind. Text me if anything comes up."
That night, he was interrogated by your dad and his uncle, who threatened to take away his monthly payment if he didn't tell them what had really happened. A grand. It was the money that he used to get upgrades for his Prowler gears, claws and mask and all, and also the money that he used to get them fixed whenever he needed. Which was often.
And so, despite feeling terrible about it, he told the truth.
You were grounded starting the day after that.
-
A month later, Jax Evans made his relationship with Jessica public.
It broke you.
Miles saw you crying to your friends about it when you found out. It hurt him so much, knowing that he couldn't do anything but let you experience your emotions in the fullest before moving on. You were crying about it for days, and you began to show up with heavier makeup to conceal your puffy eyes and with a permanent scowl on your face.
It hurt Miles so much, knowing that he was an utter coward. He should've ran to you the moment he saw you tear up, he should've comforted you the same way he did on that rooftop, he should've just made you his.
But it seemed like it wasn't the best time for that.
So Miles settled for the next best option—Fucking your ex's shit up.
He had found Jax smoking in an alleyway on a Tuesday night at two. It wasn't intentional, he was simply walking home after a long night, but he felt like there wasn't a better time to do what he was about to do.
"Hey, man," Miles feigned friendliness, "Mind if I join?"
That was also a lie. Miles doesn't smoke.
"Morales," Jax was the kind of person that could infuriate anybody by simply looking at them. Tall, lanky, cornrows pulling on his red and irritated scalp, wearing a bandanna while probably not knowing jack shit about what it meant, and fake gold chains on.
The living definition of white trash.
Miles couldn't understand what you saw in that motherfucker.
Jax clearly had no idea what was about to happen, and was completely oblivious to the way Miles's face darkened as he drew closer toward him in the alley.
There was a smirk on Jax's face, as he went to pass his joint. There was a split second where it disappeared, before Miles's fist came into contact with his nose.
The boy stumbled back onto the ground, and blood immediately started spurting from his nostrils, running down his chin in thick, crimson streams. Miles didn't wait for him to get back up or even react, before he perched himself on top of the boy and began throwing punch after punch.
It felt good. To the point where Miles felt sick in his stomach.
It was as if his arm was being powered by a motor. It didn't matter how hard he was hitting him, he didn't get tired. It only urged him to go further as he watched Jax's face gradually become more and more bloodied up, his tooth coming out in the process.
"Wait, wait! Wh-What the fuck, man!"
"You fucking hurt 'er again and I'll fucking kill you."
"Wha... Is this about Jessica??!"
"Dumb fuck," was all Miles said before he knocked out another tooth.
How did he know he had taken yet another tooth? Jax spat in his face, something that was a mix of blood and saliva. It was fucking gross.
It went on for, I don't know, twenty minutes? At some point, Jax had managed to throw Miles off of him and get in a punch or two, the fake gold rings on his fingers left a few scratches on Miles's forehead.
But Miles had way more experience, and in the end, it was Jax who was left unconscious in the dark alley in a pile of his own blood. He wasn't dead, just passed out.
Now it was three in the morning, and Miles was covered in blood.
He stood there, staring at Jax's beat up figure on the ground, before pulling out his phone. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and began walking away, fingers hovering over the screen as he quickly typed out some messages.
omw home, unc.
Then another to your dad.
i need to do some laundry, is now a good time?
He didn't wait for your dad to answer him, he simply assumed that your dad was still going to be up like all the other times he decided to go on a random side quest at some random hour, only to turn up bloodied afterward.
Panic and the realization of what had just happened only started setting in when he stood in front of your family's laundromat, banging on the door with no one answering him.
Fuck. He was starting to actually panic.
He kept banging on the door for what felt like ten minutes, before it finally swung open.
His heart dropped.
He was expecting your dad.
It wasn't your dad who greeted him at the door.
It was you.
You whose ex he had just beaten to a pulp.