Chapter Text
Miles Morales woke abruptly from what he whimsically dubbed a “nap,” though it had barely lasted five minutes. The weight of two daunting stacks of paper loomed over him, alongside the shadow of impending training with Wilson. Anxiety clawed at him; his life hung in the balance, and that of his parents, too. Grounded for three months—a sentence that seemed interminable—he felt the harsh reality of his circumstances bearing down on him.
His room glowed with an otherworldly light as a portal opened, illuminating his otherwise mundane space with a blinding brightness.
“Miles! Miles! You got a minute?” Gwen Stacy’s voice cut through the air as she tumbled into his bed, her shoes unceremoniously landing atop his blankets.
“M-How did you...?” Miles stuttered, pulling off his headphones, shock reverberating through him. Before he could fully grasp the situation, Gwen enveloped him in a hug, her warmth both comforting and confusing.
“Uh, I’ve been, yeah, just great,” she replied, her voice betraying a nervousness that did not go unnoticed.
His eyes darted to the open action figure on his desk, the one he had cherished, now unceremoniously opened and propped awkwardly against a stack of papers. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what was happening. The name Hobie echoed in his thoughts, strangely familiar yet laden with an uncomfortable tension.
Gwen was acting out of character—this was not the Gwen he knew. She was awash in a strange excitement, her gaze sweeping across his room as if she were seeing it for the first time. Miles felt a jolt of suspicion at the back of his mind. What was she not telling him?
As if sensing his turmoil, Gwen turned to him. “Did you follow me?”
“No, I just—saw where you went,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of her accusation. “And went there without you knowing.”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Figures,” he thought bitterly, frustration welling up inside him. The truth stung; she wasn’t supposed to be here either. “I’m helping,” he insisted, but the ground felt unstable beneath him.
Suddenly, the moment fractured into chaos. A figure emerged—a villain named Spot—with a smirk plastered across his face. Before Miles could react, he kicked Gwen in the face.
Panic surged through him as he lunged forward. “Gwen!”
She fell.
Miles swung faster than he ever had, webbing out just in time to catch her, but the relief was short-lived. “Did you follow me?” Gwen shouted, her voice filled with anger and confusion.
“No, I just—”
“Then what are you doing here?”
The words cut deep, and the lump in his throat grew larger. As he glitched, her falling was not just an accident; it felt like a consequence of his existence, a burden he was forced to carry.
“Catch her!” he urged himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “I got you!” he stammered as he secured her with a web. But as they landed, his heart raced not just with the thrill of saving her, but with the realization of his reckless decision.
“I shouldn’t have ever come to see you,” Gwen’s words were a punch to the gut.
That hit like a freight train. “Dang,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, attempting to mask the pain.
As she swung away, he spotted another figure—Pav, hanging casually from a pole.
“Hey, who’s the new guy?” Pav asked, a playful grin on his face.
“Hey Pav. He’s Miles, and he wasn’t invited,” Gwen shot back, a hint of tension lacing her tone.
Miles’ chest tightened as Pav laughed. “You weren’t invited, and you came anyway? Right?”
“I’m not,” Miles interjected, hanging on the pole, but the words fell flat.
“Okay, whoa, Pav,” they both replied in unison, an awkward silence hanging in the air.
As the chatter continued, Miles felt the weight of his unending visions of Spot, swirling in a haze of confusion and dread. He had been thrust into this chaos without warning, the dizzying sensations causing his movements to falter. He felt the shadow of Miguel looming over him, a harbinger of the chaos that was to come.
“This is unbelievable!” he exclaimed as they entered the lobby of the Spider-Society. “It’s a bit much, innit?”
Hobie brushed past him, purposefully making contact. A rush of memories flooded Miles—where had he seen Hobie before?
“What happened to that small, elite strike team?” he grumbled, but the question felt hollow.
“A lot of these are part-time,” Gwen replied, her nervous smile failing to reassure him.
“Gwendy, how much ‘ave you told ‘im? Hmm?” Hobie’s tone was protective.
“About ‘is place in all this?”
“A little,” Gwen mumbled, and Miles’ fists clenched in frustration.
“Maybe not enough,” Hobie shot back, and Jess threw a wristband at Miles, interrupting the tension.
“My own watch!” he exclaimed, the novelty temporarily distracting him from the storm brewing in his mind.
“It’s a day pass,” Jess replied, rolling her eyes, but the urgency in her voice didn’t go unnoticed as Miles glitched again.
In that moment, he froze upon seeing Miguel—his heart sank, a pit of dread opening in his stomach.
“Tio,” Miles called out, and the collective gasp from the other spider-people stung.
“Miguel scoffed, an air of disdain around him. “If it isn’t my lovely sobrino.”
“Lovely seeing you,” Miles replied sarcastically, but the façade cracked.
Here stood the ghost of his past—his dead uncle now alive, a living reminder of the familial bonds and betrayals that had twisted his heart.
And then there was Aaron. The sharp pang of grief mixed with bitterness left him hollow, knowing he had come here to face what he had tried to escape.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to his uncle, to the warmth that came from familial connection.
Mylo stood by him, embodying the bond Miles craved but could never fully grasp. “You got an Tio Miguel here?” Mylo asked, casual curiosity masking the weight of their shared history.
“Mami’s brother, yeah. He’s cool,” Mylo shrugged, but Miles could hear the underlying doubt.
“Mine just tried to kill me,” Miles sighed, the heaviness of his words hanging in the air.
“Fuck? Is that why you’ve got a broken rib and scars on your back? What happened before you came here?” Mylo’s concern was palpable.
“Broken ribs from one of his partners hitting me with her motorbike,” Miles admitted, tensing at the memories of pain that clawed at him. “But a lot happened before I came here. All ‘cause I was in love—all ‘cause I wanted to see her again.”
Mylo’s expression softened, and for a moment, they shared an unspoken understanding of pain and loss.
“I’m gonna make sure I save our dad, Uncle Aaron’s brother, and I swear to God I’ll find a way for y’all to see him,” Miles declared, determination fueling his words. “Even if it costs my life.”
“Don’t risk your life doing something for us,” Aaron warned, the weight of his past decisions pressing down on him.
“You both tried to kill me. I’m so close with you guys—well, Mylo at least. I may not know y’all well, but I can assure you’re my only hope.” Miles inhaled sharply, words spilling from his heart. “I’m gonna let you see Jefferson Morales, or I’m gonna die trying. Because I care about my family, and y’all are part of it.”
His voice trembled as he made the vow, glancing at Mylo and Aaron, the bond strengthening in that moment.
Gwen stood on the rooftop, her heart heavy with the weight of their shared history, a storm brewing inside her. She watched Hobie protectively as he prepared to save Miles. “We save our spider and get the fuck outta there. And once we do, save him. Neither of y’all say anything to him. Already put him through enough. Say hi and get the fuck away from him.”
“Hobie—” Gwen protested, desperation evident in her voice.
“No. Don’t ‘Obie me, mate. I already said what I said. Get in, get out, say hi, bye then don’t fuckin’ even mention his name until you beg on your knees for his forgiveness.”
With a portal open, Hobie led the charge, determination in every movement.
Miles stepped into his room, the mess reflecting his chaotic thoughts. The familiar space felt foreign, memories swirling around him like ghosts. He couldn’t shake the anger and resentment towards the people who had hurt him. He ripped out pages from his sketchbook, tearing away the remnants of a past that now felt tainted.
“Ya good in ‘ere, mate? Surprised you’re not out there with the missus and mister,” Hobie said, stepping into the room, breaking the heavy silence.
“I don’t trust any of them out there, except for six people—Mylo, Aaron, Margo, Pav, and
Gwendy,” Miles replied, arms crossed defiantly.
“They got your back, right?”
“Then why do I feel so alone?”
As he asked, the vulnerability echoed in the silence, the weight of isolation pressing down upon him.
“Sometimes we feel alone even when we’re surrounded by people who care,” Hobie said softly, understanding threading through his voice.
“I know it shouldn’t, but it still hurts to know the bonds we form can break so easily.”
And as the portal shimmered and flickered, Miles knew that their destinies were intertwined—his past would haunt him, but with each passing moment, he felt a glimmer of hope emerging amidst the chaos, propelling him forward.