Work Text:
He draws her in his sketchbook four days after she's gone. She occupies his thoughts in a way that is pleasant at first, he recalls their bus drive and all the conversations they had. She was easy to talk to, way less intimidating than he expected. She laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories about people she never met and would never have the chance to.
When he starts drawing her, he draws what he remembers. Her looking at him apologetically when they had to leave him behind. Her floating on air, with a grace he couldn't reproduce in his own movements. Her leaving through the portal, in a way that seemed final.
He would never see Gwen Stacy again if he didn't find a way to travel through dimensions. The thought made him sick, stomach freezing and goosebumps growing on his skin.
He knew her for a week and it seemed like they were destined for more time together. His uncle would tell him to move on, there were other girls in the picture. His own common sense used to warn him it was nonsensical to get so attached. She probably doesn't think of you half as much as you think of her.
He started drawing her in contexts he never saw her in. Poses she never posed in front of him, clothes she never wore. Smiles she never offered.
When Ganke looked over to him drawing her one day, he frowned, pausing his game for a second.
"This is that girl who was glued to the wall. The night I passed out." He pointed it out while Miles kept his eyes on his drawing. "What is she to you?"
He considered the question but couldn't quite answer. He wanted to call her his friend but he didn't know why he couldn't. They didn't spend much time together but it felt meaningful. At the same time, she wasn't a friend in the way Ganke was. He didn't know what that meant at the time.
"She's my muse." Was what he answer while Ganke rolled his eyes and went back to his game. He cringed at himself, wondering what she would think of his admission. But that was what it was, as embarrassing as it could be for him.
She inspired him to draw, he would run home every time he saw an outfit that reminded him of her or a place he thought she would enjoy. He drew her in different hairstyles, different clothes, different artstyles and colors.
He desperately wanted to keep her in his world in any way he could. He loved drawing and through that he could always reach her.
[...]
The first time he draws her after all that went down with Spot, it's a gift for her birthday.
Months went by where his sketchbook was forgotten in the drawer. Months were thinking of her was bittersweet, confusing and upsetting. The girl he could recreate with a pencil with his eyes closed wasn't the girl he knew better now.
She dressed in clothes he never picked for her, her hair was messy most of the times and she never picked more piercings. Ballet wasn't what she enjoyed anymore, instead she played drums. She wasn't the only one out there who could understand him and she would not save him from his feelings of self-doubt and insecurity.
Through everything that went wrong between them, he got to know her through her.
At first, he was scared of what the change meant. Of what they would think of each other and be to each other when she wasn't a drawing in his head and he wasn't a set of lyrics in her mind.
But they were those same kids sitting on the classroom, sitting on the bus, holding hands before they parted for the first time. Once she wasn't scared of honesty and he was sure of who he was, they were just as genuine. It just wasn't as easy.
"You know when fear is paralyzing? When something happens and it's like you withdraw from yourself? You can't move and can barely breathe." She told him once, avoiding his gaze. "That's how I felt about my life and my death. Back then, when I got to know about canon events it was like...There's nothing I can do, everything bad that happened before already happened even though I tried so hard to avoid them. So yeah, my father would die and I would be alone in my universe until I would have to die. You asked me why was I going to let it happen and it's just...There's more graves to visit than homes. Mom, Peter, Ben, May, Harry."
He flinched, realizing for the first time what her life was. When he met her, she was the most well adjusted version of what a teenager could be in his head. Always cool, smart remarks on the tip of her tongue, moving like life was all figured out.
And, through her shaking hands and the words that spilled out of her mouth, he saw her in a way that broke his heart. In a way that was honest. For the terrified, lonely girl she was.
"So what could I do? And was it even worth it?" Her voice was heavy. She sounded like she was about to break down and he held her hand instinctively. "I thought your whole universe was going to collapse and everyone would die anyway if your dad was saved. And it terrified me too. It wasn't fair or right to keep it from you and I know it, I regret it every day. I just...Selfishly, wanted you to live. I should've given you the choice to choose what risk to take, what to believe him. I'm sorry, again."
They kept holding hands in silence and it was a distorted mirror to their journey on that bus, talking about everything they could in the time they had together because it was running out. They had all the time in the world now.
She spend months apolozing in different ways, with words or actions, and he didn't know what to do or say because he forgave her as soon as she asked for it. Probably before, when she threw herself at Spot to save his mother. Or even before, when she arrived at earth 42 to help.
He was always willing to forgive and believe in her. He wanted so bad to pull away and be angry, because pride said he should, because she promised he was allowed that - because he knew he was.
But he missed her for so long, longed for her for so long, it made no sense to keep a distance now. He wanted to be around her. He wouldn't listen to people telling him he was allowed to hold grudges. He'd do things his own way.
So he was at her universe, standing in the room her band practiced. It was her birthday and they were throwing a suprise party because she herself had no plans to celebrate anything. Her father said she never even wanted a cake, ever since Peter died with May following a year later. May was always the one baking for her.
But now, it was Gayatri who baked her cake. It was Betty who suggested and bought the blue, pink and white balloons. Hobie made a playlist which was hurting Miles ears a little.
When she arrived, after her father gave her a ride to what she thought would be another band practice, there was confetti thrown at her face and Hobie picked her up from the ground making her yelp.
Miles stayed back, his present behind his back, feeling nervous all of a sudden. The gift felt silly, his hesitance even more so. He wanted to get closer and hug her and for all to be easy like it was between her and Hobie. For all to be comfortable banter like it was with Em Jay slightly punching her arm.
She went through the small crowd of people, greeting them with her face burning red, collecting gifs and hugs. He laughed a little perceiving how shy she was. She held her gifts against her chest like a shield, her smiles a calculated movement so she wouldn't let the tears fall.
When she reached him, she stopped. She looked up to him with wide eyes, waiting. Not moving an inch. He realized him himself didn't move to greet her, just stayed watching her making her way to him.
"Happy birthday." He finally said.
"Thanks, Miles." She hid behind her hair and he was enamored by how she acted around him lately. Like there was more in between the lines. Like she was chasing him around for once, and it was good to feel wanted. Especially by her.
"I have something for you." Her face lightened up and he couldn't help but smile at her eagerness. He liked her so much. "It's a little different, tho."
"I will love it." She promised, and all his doubts were put down by her certainty.
She put all her others gifts on one of the tables, careful for them not to fall and stood closer to him. He handed her the art piece, enveloped in a pink wrap that she tore through quickly. He glanced at the others, seeing most of them were talking and eating away, except for Hobie who had a knowing smirk on his face. He quickly averted his eyes, knowing he would hear a lot of teasing after.
She was holding up the drawing, blinking at it in a trance that made him a little apprehensive. There was nothing wrong with it and the rational part of him knew she would probably like it just for the thought behind it but it was hard to be reasonable when the girl you like is standing in front of you looking so gorgeous you think it's one of your daydreams again-
"Miles, I love it so much." Her voice was quivering. She lowered the drawing with shaking hands. She was pouting at him and he felt himself panic a little.
"Please, don't cry." He reached to hold her by the elbows, steadying her. He didn't know what to do. He never saw her cry, only tear up. "I don't want to make you cry."
"It's really beautiful. Thank you, thank you so much." She threw her arms around his neck, holding him with such strength, he had to bend over and hold her waist so they would be comfortable.
He felt her tears staining his shirt. He thought of what his uncle would say if he knew he made the girl he liked cry on her surprise party.
Ignoring all the eyes on them, he gave her the time she needed to let it all out, which apparently was a lot.
"Gwen?" He asked gently.
She moved away from him, mascara running down her face. He reached out to wide her cheeks, getting his hands dirty. He didn't care. She honestly looked so beautiful then, even with her puffy eyes and ruined makeup.
"I don't know what got into me, I'm sorry." She patted her face, moving away from him in embarrassment. "I really like it. It means a lot, especially coming from you."
She held the drawing life it was a vital part of her, something she needed close. Her knuckles were white, her gaze kept going over the image.
Miles stared at it again, feeling a little self conscious. It was a composition of different scenarios, differents portals opening up to different homes, all of which had Gwen. Her father's house, May's house, the houses of all their friends, the room they were currently on, his house.
More homes than graves.
He stared at the Peter he drew, thought of how he had to ask her father for pictures of him and saw so many albums of those two growing up together. Drawing him made him feel connected to her Peter, made him grieve someone he never met.
Through art, he could always connect with Gwen. He always loved art, but he thinks she made h8m realize powers he never knew he had. By the way she was so moved with this piece, he thought he should open his sketchbook again. He thought of art school and it made something in him blossom.
"Well, don't act shocked. I have a sketchbook full of you." He joked, wanting to break the tension. She let out a wet chuckle, tears still falling.
"Stalker." She teased, and he couldn't stop smiling even though his cheeks were hurting. "Wait until you see all the lyrics I wrote about you."
He beamed. "I can't wait."
He thinks, he has draw his sorrows and longing and loving time and time again. Now he knows she did the same with her music, because time was never enough between them. They've always loved each other through art.