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brbzonedout · 17 days

Text

-Late Night Walks

Pairing: E!42 Miles Morales x Reader

Warnings: None…

“So you couldn’t sleep? and you walked here by yourself at two in the morning…and your mom doesn’t know you’re gone?”

Miles sat on your window sill and removed his sneakers before he jumped off as quietly as possible.

“Yeah that’s about right-“

You shook your head and cracked a smile moving his shoes to sit in your closet. If you hadn’t known any better you’d think he had some kind of ulterior motive but no, that’s just Miles.

“You’re gonna get us both in trouble, then our parents are gonna work together to cover up the murder…”

“Damn, no hi? No, oh my god i’m so happy to see you?” he said at a whisper.

The boy shrugged off his jacket revealing his blue flannel pajamas pants and a regular plain grey tee shirt, after he tossed it into your closet he crawled into the bed and wrapped himself in your soft fluffy comforter.

“What if I didn’t want you in here?” you questioned sarcastically.

You crawled in with him and wrapped your arms around his torso burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“Oh yeah?” he sat up slowly wanting to see your reaction. “I can dip back out if you want me to-“

“No no no no..stay,” you pushed him back down with the weight you were holding back before.

“That’s what I thought”. Miles remarked.

A comfortable silence over took the room as the two of you got in the comfortable enough position to lay in. During the period of silence Miles somehow managed to maneuver himself onto of you wrapping his arms around your neck and laying his head next to yours. As you inhaled, the smell of hair grease and whatever brand of lotion he used before coming over caught your nose, he must have been planning on coming over instead of a spontaneous visit.

A few days before, Miles told you how his mom had been taking later shifts at the hospital. He didn’t tell you but knowing Miles you knew this worried him. He knows what goes on at night in the city so it scared him to think that his mom was outside alone.

“You ok?” You asked sliding your hand under the back of his shirt to draw random shapes.

The boy nodded slightly brushing your neck with his nose. “I’m good, tired though”.

Suddenly you got an idea.

“Oh so you just gonna come in here wake me up and fall asleep on me?!” You asked slowly sitting up.

Miles huffed and sat up along with you, rubbing at his dreary eyes. “I couldn’t sleep in my bed”. He shrugged with a shy smile.

You snort out a laugh and stand up, walking over to your closet to retrieve a small cardboard box in the back. “Well i can’t sleep period..let’s go patrol. It’s the weekend we can sleep in”.

He blinked up at you with a confused expression.

“Ain’t you the one who questioned me for coming over at 2:00 am now it’s…” Miles squinted trying to focus his vision on the alarm clock sat on your bed side table bit without his glasses it was no use.

“20 minutes to 3, Velma…”.

“Velma..” He repeated with a low giggle. “If we goin’ outside i need my suit”.

You shook your head no, hair shaking lightly from side to side. “We’ll just walk..if you’re as tired as you say you are i don’t need you falling from buildings”.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows, slightly worried about going out with you with nothing to defend yourselves. “But what if-“

“I’m bringing my web shooters..” Said as you gesture to them. “If anything pops off we’ll be fine. I promise…I do this all the time”, You assure.

After your finished getting ready to go you walk over and pull Miles up by his hands. “Now come on! Before the sun comes up”.

The boy stood up with your help lazily gathering his things to go outside. After he finished getting ready the two of you walked over to the window.

“Maybe we can go to the corner store? You know past the hospital”. You said carefully climbing out onto the fire escape trying you best not to hit the metal.

Miles reveals a small smile and nods. “Yeah that’s cool..” Said as he followed behind you. “….so are we gon talk about how you go outside at all hours of the night alone…frequently?”

“Last one down the stairs has to carry the bags back!” You said rushing down in order to avoid his questions.

Miles laughed a little louder than before given the freedom after leaving the quiet apartment. “Like it won’t be me regardless”.

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #spider verse #spider man #comics #prowler miles morales #e!42 miles morales x reader #miles g #miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #42 miles

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brbzonedout · 3 months

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I love them so much!!

if you believe in me - 04.2

summary: a very brief intermission. between aaron and his father, miles wonders who he takes after more. wc: 1.5k a/n: this chapter is me trying to get back into the swing of things before the next major plot point (!!!) so this might feel a little slower and more introspective. thanks for reading! (reblog with ur favorite comic or manga if u want idk) taglist: @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown @sillykirb @proudgojofucker @weirdducky17 @milesandcorysupermacy prev. next

BOOM!

Miles hits the ground shoulder-first with a dull thud, the storage building bursting into flames behind him.

I’m gonna feel that one later, he thinks as he rolls to his feet and back into a sprint. But Oscorp’s gonna feel it, too.

With a leap and a shot of his grappling hook, it’s not long before he’s back on the sidewalk, with Aaron waiting around the corner. The older man has completely retired the Prowler suit now.

“Not bad for your first solo run,” he nods. “Could still be a lil’ quicker, but you’ll pick it up.”

Miles twists the joints of his metal claws. The steel is still shiny and new, save for a bit of soot from the explosion. The purple glow disappears as they power down with a quiet whir and detach to reveal the human flesh underneath. They work like a charm so far.

It’s been two weeks, but he hasn’t gotten to use them - Aaron has yet to send him on a mission where he’d have to. He wants to ask his uncle about it, ask why he let him do all that welding and tinkering if the claws were just for show. But Miles knows that if he does, the man’s brows would furrow and he’d get a stern speech about not getting too eager about that sort of thing. And he’d be right.

So, like every other night, Miles says nothing but “thanks”.

“And what’s this one about?”

You pointed at a comic sitting on the far side of Miles’ bed. On the cover stood a man wearing what looked like some imagined version of an “African” headdress. He was shirtless and dressed in nothing but shorts and brightly-colored boots, like the costume of a wrestler. The upper half of his face was obscured by a mask with white eyes tied around his head. The flat colors and dark lines make it look old, likely from the 80s or early 90s. Above the man on the cover was the title in bold graphic font: Anansi.

“You don’t know ‘Anansi’?” Miles asked with wide eyes before shaking his head. “Nah, we gotta fix that.”

He threw what he was reading aside, hovering his hand over the pile of comics until he located the very first issue.

“So Anansi is like, this spider that gets turned into a human who has the abilities of a spider. Y’know, climbing up walls and shit.”

“Does he shoot webs out of his ass?”

“That’s not how that works, and no. Anyway, he’s got spider powers and he beats the bad guys by being a trickster instead of just brute force.”

You took the comic from him and began leafing through the worn pages, frankly more interested in the art than the plot. The sharp lines and crosshatching remind you of Miles’ sketches. You turned to Miles and held it up once you were finished looking at it.

“Can I borrow it?”

There’s a shadow of uncertainty that crosses his face for a moment as you await his answer.

“Mmm…I dunno. I’ve had that thing since I was ten. You gonna be careful with it?”

You place a hand over your heart.

“Promise.”

He snorts, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ll let you have it for a week, sound good?”

“Good.”

Miles remembers that he’s supposed to ask for his comic back on the way home, the two metal claws tucked safely into his backpack.

He sneaks a glance at his uncle, and tries to copy his stride when he walks. It looks easy, but there’s a rhythm to it. Miles keeps his gaze low, but his steps lively. The key is not to show the sweat, as they say. All of one’s effort goes into making it look like there’s no effort at all.

Aaron looks over at his nephew, and chuckles.

“Remind me of your old man when you walk like that,” he says.

Miles grins good-naturedly. Guess the sweat shows. But it’s fine, for now.

“What’s that mean?”

“When we was young, we used to watch the older kids walk out the corner store and try to copy ‘em. The way your pops did it…”

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter at the memory.

“He kinda looked like, like he was marching almost. Just stomping down that sidewalk!”

Aaron began to demonstrate, making his steps quicker and heavier.

“I look like that?”

Miles wrinkled his nose and began to tone down his swaying.

“Exactly like that. Shit’s kinda amazing, really. Genetics.”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work.”

“Oh yeah?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Then how come I got you stealing like my pops and me, and in my colors?”

Miles laughed, “But this is good stealing!”

“You got a point there.”

Aaron lifted his gaze upward towards the skyline. The moon was out in full tonight.

“Did y’all make good money, at least?”

“Sure did. Sometimes it was the only money that came in, that’s why we ain’t stop.”

There’s a beat of silence. Miles pats his left pocket to make sure the wad of cash is still there, and wonders if his uncle had to do the same thing, or if he kept it in a fanny pack or briefcase.

“So what made you finally give it up?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Jeff did it for your mom. Hard to keep secrets with a baby on the way.”

Miles tried to picture a younger version of his father – less facial hair, no eye bags, better eyesight, probably – looking a pregnant Rio in the eye as she broke the news. He looks into her gentle face and…yes, there. Right there is when he decides it’s over.

Even without the whole parenting thing, it probably killed him inside to have to lie to her every night about where he’s been. Miles gets it.

“What about you?”

Aaron shrugged.

“Couldn’t leave my nephew hanging.”

He had knocked on Miles’ door after a few weeks of radio silence and found the kid lying in bed, surrounded by dirty clothes and snack wrappers. The room smelt of stale sweat, the clothes piled up on the floor impossible to get through, so Aaron elected to stand just outside.

Miles looked up, and suddenly the man understood what had Rio so frantic on the phone.

The boy’s gaze was…vacant. Like he was looking through him, at something far off in the distance. There were no words comforting enough to turn the lights back on behind those eyes. So Aaron had done the next best thing:

“Go wash up, we goin’ out.”

Miles doesn’t remember it that way. He hardly remembers anything from that period of time between the funeral and his uncle barging into his room. Just a long stretch of gray, and then the door cracks open, then he’s in the shower realizing how long his hair’s gotten, and soon he’s dodging the punching bag in Aaron’s apartment, carrying crates back and forth and maybe blowing some up on occasion.

He knows in his head that he’s doing this to hurt the pockets of invisible men hiding in their glass skyscrapers and high-rise offices, and he’s as angry at them for sucking the life out of his neighborhood as he’s always been.

But it had started with the door, cracked open just enough for his uncle’s face to poke through. Otherwise, Miles might’ve been content to lie there and become one with his mattress as he missed another week of school.

He wonders if his father went on those runs because he, too, looked into his future and hadn’t the slightest idea as to what he was looking at.

Miles’ thoughts are interrupted when his phone buzzes in his pocket. You have his Anansi issue.

“So this is all you do in your free time, then? Comics and robots?”

Miles has his nose in another shounen manga.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You remember the helmet, and the parts set in neat little rows. And the tarp in Uncle Aaron’s car.

“Not for the most part. More interesting than what I do.”

Miles finally looks up, and squints. “What do you do in your free time?”

“I braid hair,” you reply with a bit of pride. “Pretty good at it, too.”

“Mm-hm, that’s what they all say before they fuck yo’ shit up,” he jokes, earning an issue of Jujutsu Kaisen to the face.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, with them fuzzy ass braids.”

Miles gasped dramatically. “You said they looked nice!”

“Looked. Past-tense.”

“Chill on me, my mom didn’t have time to re-do ‘em this week.”

Seeing an opportunity, your eyes lit up.

“Ooh, let me–”

“No.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you.

“Aw, come on! You have so much hair, it could be fun! And you said you’d let me.”

You reached out to touch one of Miles’ overgrown braids but ended up swiping the air as he dodged your hand.

“I said ‘maybe’, and now the answer is no. You’re gonna ‘have fun’ in my hair? Like you ‘had fun’ with my t-shirt? I know you stole it, by the way.”

“I up-cycled it.”

“Cutting a shirt in half is not up-cycling, and you’re not touching my head.”

“You're so mean.”

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brbzonedout · 5 months

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#that little hug move was diabolical

if you believe in me - 04.1

summary: Miles shows you what he's been working on. wc: ~2000 a/n: splitting this chapter up into two parts because it was getting long songs for vibes <3: Sweet - Teezo Touchdown That's What You Get - Paramore Lost My Mind (In Yours) - Senseless Optimism prev next

You yawned as the sky brightened and the sun began to finally peak through the curtains. The digital clock sitting in front of you on the small desk read ‘5:58’ in neon-green letters.

You'd been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes. Miles hadn't answered any of his texts after you got home last night, leaving you to lie awake in bed worrying about what on earth was in that bag.

Might as well wake him up now, you thought.

You rose from Miles’ swivel chair and stretched before making your way over to his bed. The boy was sprawled out over the mattress with his blanket twisted in every direction, suggesting a fitful night of tossing and turning.

As you stood over him, you noticed a dark purple bruise that had bloomed on his forearm. His elbow on the same side had been patched up with a large square band-aid, the center of it brown with dried blood.

Whatever he had been doing last night, it certainly didn't look related to robotics.

At first, you tried gently shaking him. Miles stirred a bit, but remained asleep. Calling out his name yielded the same result. Finally, you grabbed one end of his blanket with a huff and pulled as hard as you could. Miles–still fully asleep–held onto it with equal force, roping you into a tug-of-war at six in the morning.

“Miles, let go…!” You grunted, as if he could hear you.

With one final yank, his grip on the blanket loosened, and you nearly fell backwards into his desk with it in your hands.

He rubbed his arms with the sudden chill, eventually cracking one eye open.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned.

“Not today, Kilo,” you folded the blanket beneath your arm. “I think your mom said breakfast was ready downstairs.”

Both eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. Miles shot up, his head snapping towards you. He blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

You grinned triumphantly. “G’morning, big hea–”

“Yo, did you break into my house?!?”

“No, dummy, I just said your mom spoke to me. She let me in so that I could wake your ass up and she could get to work early.”

“And you said yes?” He narrowed his eyes at you, adjusting the sleeve of his tank top.

You had conveniently left out that you'd called Rio to ask first. That was besides the point.

“Of course,” you shrugged and sat on the edge of the mattress. “You left me on ‘read’ after last night, so now we can talk!”

“At ass o'clock in the morning?”

“M-hm. And you're gonna tell me the whole truth,” you gently tapped his nose with your index finger. “Right?”

Miles slowly wiped his face with his palm with a deep sigh. “You don't quit, do you?”

“I haven't stopped bothering you since I met you. What do you think?”

He rolled his eyes. Point taken.

“Fine. It ain't no robotics club, but we were building something.”

“Building what?”

You leaned in, face tense with concern. His expression softened.

“Relax, it's not a weapon, or nothing,” Miles reassured.

Well, not yet.

He kicked his long legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He opened the drawer beneath his desk, removing what looked like a comic book and showing it to you.

A large robot stood in the middle of the cover. Its design resembled a ‘Transformers’ action figure, but all of the text was in Japanese.

“It's something kinda like this. Cool, right?”

You examined the comic book closely and hummed in consideration. The robot had sharp eyes like what you'd seen in Miles’ sketchbook. Was that what it was for? But then, why would they be so adamant on hiding it?

You looked up at Miles. A bashful smile graced his features, like it was embarrassing for him to even be showing you his comic book collection right now. But a piece of the puzzle was missing, and he wasn't giving it to you.

“Hm,” you got up and began to put your sneakers back on, “Alright. If that's what you say it is.”

His smile faded.

“What, you don't believe me?” He asked, setting the comic book back onto his desk.

You picked up your book bag and slung it over your shoulder without sparing him a glance. Just as you were about to leave, you felt him grab your wrist.

“What?” you sighed.

“Turn around.”

“You're awake already, I don't need to–ack!”

Suddenly, Miles wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I promise I'm not lying to you. I'll show it to you after school, even.”

After a beat of silence, you gave in.

“I'll hold you to it,” you said, gently pushing him off of you. “Now go brush your teeth, that morning breath is deadly.”

Miles stuck his tongue out at you as he strolled past, and made his way downstairs.

Miles ran a finger over his bandaged knuckles. Despite his mood being brighter than usual, no one in Ms. Jones’ class dared to speak to him. The band-aid on his elbow and across the bridge of his nose gave the impression that the other day was simply a fluke, and that he’d gotten into a fight.

Miles would’ve enjoyed being avoided, if it meant some peace and quiet. But he heard whispers coming from every direction.

“Who’d he get into it with?”

“I heard he got jumped.”

“Looks like it.”

“Didn’t think he fought like that.”

“Are you kidding? Look at him!”

He rolled his shoulders, muscles still aching from having to leap off of a balcony to escape an explosion he caused. Several balconies.

“Aye, Y/N! That’s your man, what happened?”

He perked up at the mention of your name, listening for your response.

You tapped your pencil to your chin, wondering the exact same thing. But that was your business.

“Somebody said sumn about his uncle,” you shrugged. “He don’t play about that shit.”

You didn’t see Miles shrug as well in the back of the classroom. Sounds like something he’d sock a nigga in the jaw for.

This seemed to satisfy the boy sitting in the next row from you, so you went back to working through the worksheet in front of you. The steps Miles had run through last night evaded you, drowned out by music blasting from an old car radio and the clanging of metal.

The sounds followed you even after the final bell rang to your room, where you were currently re-braiding a section of Tianna’s hair.

“Ouch!” she complained when you accidentally yanked her hair with your comb. “You’re mad heavy-handed, can you relax?”

You snapped back to reality. “My bad, got distracted.”

“You finna give a damn bald spot. What’s distracting you?”

She groaned audibly when you didn’t answer.

“That boy stressin’ you again? I heard he got into a fight.”

“Ti, it’s fine,” you reassured, scooping a bit of gel with the end of the comb and smoothing it over the back of your hand. “He’s not going around beating people up, if that’s what you’re thinking. And anyways, he’s picking me up soon to hang out.”

Tianna raised an amused eyebrow. “You better braid faster, then.”

Miles cracked his neck as he stood on the roof. Your house was technically only a couple blocks away, but he needed the wind rushing through his ears again. He’d spent hours sitting down, leg bouncing beneath his desk with no music to distract him (Professor Callahan had confiscated his airpods, and Miles didn’t know how to explain that they kept him from getting jittery).

Pulling his hood down, he stepped toward the ledge of the building and activated a small device on his belt before letting himself fall.

Shink!

The grappling hook shot out, catching on the next ledge and allowing Miles to swing before landing on it with a flourish. He did the same with the next building, his sneakers suctioning themselves to one of its walls. He rotated in a full three-sixty tic tac to get to another.

Shink! Swing. Shink! Swing.

Miles was grinning to himself and hopping from one foot to the other by the time he reached your window. The door would’ve been much easier, but he figured that you’d like an unconventional entrance. Points for showmanship, right?

You sat on your bed unsuspectingly, staring at your phone. Miles was five minutes late. Should I text him first?

Tianna words echoed in your head, and you decided against it.

Tap tap tap!

Your head snapped up towards the window, the sight before you making your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

A figure in a dark hoodie waved excitedly at you. When you started to back away towards your bedroom door, however, the figure held out a hand in frantic surrender. They pulled back the hoodie, revealing those familiar mismatched eyes and hesitant smile.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you padded over to the window to unlock it.

“You scared me, fuck is wrong with you?” You said through clenched teeth as Miles lifted it open the rest of the way.

He took one look at your pouty attempt to look angry and laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me.”

“The window, though? You coulda rang the doorbell, I thought you was about to rob me!”

Miles looked around your bedroom, overwhelmingly pink and covered with soft fairy lights. Bright yellow ‘Nancy Drew’ books sat stacked on your nightstand, collecting dust.

He snorted,“What would I steal? Your Monster High Diary?”

You gave him a good shove. “You’re an asshole. And it’s Ever After High, show some respect.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, Monster High is about–”

Miles held a hand up. “Tell me later. You ready to see my ‘robotics project’?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I still can’t believe you thought I would believe that.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, removing his outer jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Put your shoes on, and I’ll make it up to you.”

The cool darkness of Miles’ room welcomed you as you stepped inside.

“I been working on somethin’,” he whispered, as if telling a secret at a sleepover. “There.”

He pointed towards his desk, which had been cleared of his laptop and books and now resembled an operation table more than a workspace. The desk lamp illuminated an array of tiny metal pieces–arranged in size order–next to what looked like a small helmet. Right next to it was a blueprint that had been rolled up halfway and set to the side.

You stood there in awe. Awe, and something else brewing beneath the surface, making your chest tighten.

You knew Miles to be neat, but not like this. To have arranged every single piece in perfect little rows, for pencil lines to be that precise - it required more than just book smarts and a little organization. It required obsession. But with what?

“It’s…cool,” you nodded. “How long did it take you to build?”

Miles hummed thoughtfully before answering, “About a year, give or take.” Then his eyes lit up like you’d never seen them, like a child in the toy section of a Target.

“Do you wanna see the gloves–”

“No!” you interrupted a bit too loudly.

You winced internally at the way Miles’ face fell. Some of the light left his eyes before he schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I mean…not right now,” you amended, taking his hand. “You said we were gonna hang out, right?”

He nodded. “Right, right. That’s fine. Where you wanna go?”

Miles’ voice returned to its muted quality, and you felt a wave of guilt. What if he was just really into robots?

An idea popped into your head. “Can I see those comics again?”

A grin slowly snuck its way back onto his face.

“Which volume?”

Thanks for reading! :) Taglist (comment 2 be added!): @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales x black!reader #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales

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brbzonedout · 6 months

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if you believe in me - 02

summary: word gets around fast. wc: 2256 a/n: got too impatient soooo here we are lmao. I'll still be writing ahead I just wanted to post this one lil thing. warning for like one vague sex joke prev next

Your hands swung between the two of you until you reached the bottom steps of Visions Academy. The moment you began your ascent, little gasps and whispers followed not far behind. Miles’ hand began to squirm, as if trying to weasel his way out of the vice grip you had on it as you tugged him along. The reason why dawned on you when you entered the main hall:

Everyone was staring.

Scanning the clusters of students gathered in front of the escalators, you noticed that some of their mouths had fallen open in shock. You turned to glance at Miles, who was staring straight ahead with his brows knit together with worry.

“Miles, what’s wrong–”

“Y/N?”

Tianna’s voice interrupted before you could finish the question. The short, dark-skinned girl ran up to you for a quick hug, the smell of her vanilla body mist wafting off of her uniform.

She pulled away to give Miles a once-over, narrowing her eyes at him. He nervously avoided making eye contact.“I see you didn’t take my advice, as always.”

“Well, we met up this morning,” you shrugged. “It worked out.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Miles remarked quietly.

“I know,” your friend shot back as she tugged your arm to pull you away. “A moment, please?”

He raised his hands in surrender, and you gave him an apologetic smile as you let go of his hand. You followed Tianna until you reached a spot where he’d be out of earshot, where she stopped abruptly. She spun around to face you with her arms folded.

“Y/N…girl.”

“What? He said we were a thing when I asked him–”

“You had to ask him?” Tianna sighed, massaging her temples. “At least I know you weren't lying about the kiss.”

Your mouth fell open in offense, making her burst into laughter.

“Girl, fuck you! You thought I was lying?” you yelled as you gave her a playful shove.

“It’s Miles Morales! I don’t think he’s even had a full conversation with anybody since ninth grade. How you got him to kiss you is beyond me.”

“What does that mean?” you laughed. “You’re mad disrespectful.”

“That’s not the point, though. He didn’t even text you first.”

“Maybe he just forgot my number.”

“You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know a lot about him!”

Tianna raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Name three things you know about him that he told you himself.”

“Easy,” you began counting on your fingers, “He doesn’t like wearing his glasses, he likes rock music, and, um…”

You paused, racking your brain for something that you didn’t have to find out from asking around. Tianna’s lips were pressed into a thin line, wholly unimpressed. She sighed again.

“Yeah, okay, sis–”

“Wait!” you interrupted in a last-ditch effort to defend yourself. “He told me he’s actually not a gang member like people say, so that’s a plus, right?”

She saw the desperate look on your face and shook her head.

“Look, just…be careful, alright? If you not gonna listen to me, at least do that much,” Tianna pushed you gently back in Miles’ direction just as the morning bell rang. “Now go to class.”

You looked back at her one last time and smiled. “Thanks.”

Miles looked up expectantly as you jogged over to him. “So? What was that about?”

“Girl stuff,” you lied, sticking out your hand. “Walk me to class?”

As soon as you made it up the escalator, Miles mentally prepared himself to make his way through the crowded hallway. He wasn’t used to being at school this early, and it seemed that–judging by the sudden rise in conversation and exaggerated ‘oooh!’s as you passed by–neither were his fellow students.

Your homeroom wasn’t too many doors down from his, so he gently let go of your hand just outside Ms. Keene’s classroom.

“Aight, see you in calc–”

“Um, sir,” you stopped him before he could turn around, with a hand on your hip. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Miles’ eyes narrowed, then widened in understanding when you placed a finger on your cheek. He glanced towards the clusters of kids gathered around their lockers. Many were still watching out of curiosity, looking for something to talk about come lunchtime. He turned to you and smiled apologetically.

"Later."

"Imma hold you to that, Morales!" you called out behind you as you finally entered the classroom.

“Good morning, miss L/N,” Keene greeted with her eyes still glued to her laptop.

Every morning, she’d project the list of morning announcements onto the whiteboard then spend the rest of homeroom checking emails. The class was allowed to chat idly until the bell rang, just as long as it didn’t get loud enough to catch the attention of any administrators.

“G’morning!” you replied.

You had just sat down when a nasally voice asked suddenly, “Did you get Callahan’s homework done on time?”

Startled, your head snapped towards the girl sitting next to you, Caitlyn. As always.

She leaned forward with her palm cradling her chin, pale and freckled face beaming with anticipation as if gossiping with a friend. The girl hardly knew you.

“Um, yeah, it…wasn’t too bad,” you replied tentatively. “You?”

“Girl, I was struggling,” she answered with a wave of her hand. The phrase came out oddly, like she was reciting lines off of a script, and it made you cringe internally. “Spent nearly the whole night on it.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and nodded. Just before you could fully turn away, though, Caitlyn jumped to another topic.

“So you and Miles are like, together, right?”

“...Yup.”

Her eyes widened in anticipation.

“So what’s he like? Outside of school, I mean.”

Grinning to yourself, you almost spilled every detail: the glasses, his dimples when he smiled–like, really smiled–and jazz music. But she didn’t need all that.

“He’s…cute. Real smart-ass, though.” you answered while fiddling with the lead in your mechanical pencil.

Caitlyn snorted, “No shit. I heard he used to give Ms. Jones hell in AP Calc once he got back from his, um…break.”

Your expression soured at that last bit.

“You got anything specific you wanna ask me?”

“Have you two…? Y’know.”

She made her eyebrows jump up and down, making it uncomfortably clear what she was implying.

“No,” you replied coarsely. “And if we did, I wouldn’t be tellin’ you.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to respond, but was swiftly cut off by the bell.

You rose from your seat and swung your book bag over your shoulder as quickly as possible before making your escape into the hallway.

Three more periods of that to go. Lovely.

A chorus of boys whooped and hollered when Miles passed by them on the way back to his locker.

“Yo, is that my son Miles? On time?”

The voice calling out to him belonged to Jeremiah, a shorter boy with dark skin and newly-cut hair after spending the entirety of ninth grade with a short, unstyled afro. A tiny grin played on Miles’ lips. They used to hoop with some of the Brooklyn Middle kids after school, before everything happened.

It wouldn’t kill him to say ‘hi’.

“I’m always on time, y’all just early!” he called out over his shoulder, even doing the little salute his dad would always do when he dropped Miles off.

This lift in his mood would be killed swiftly by third period, when Hakim ripped out one of his airpods. Right at the bridge of one of his favorite songs, too.

“What you listenin’ to, Morales?”

Miles glared daggers into him, but the boy was never really one to take a hint.

Hakim went on, “Huh. Didn’t pin you as a seventies guy.”

He returned the earbud, ruffling dark ringlets that nearly covered his eyes. It used to be much shorter, until he grew it out in eighth grade and soon realized that girls preferred it that way.

“I’m full of surprises,” Miles muttered darkly, examining the airpod between his fingers. He made a face at it, and decided they were unfit to stick back into his ears before storing them in their case. “Sumn you need?”

Hakim opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Mr. Callahan’s booming voice:

“Hold the side conversations, please.”

“My fault, sir,” Miles replied. He didn’t need to rack up behavioral infractions at ten in the morning.

The middle-aged man paused his scribbling on the whiteboard and turned around. He stared directly at Miles like a child about to pull a prank.

“Actually, Morales, since you’re so talkative today and–well–actually here,” he pointed with the dry-erase marker in his hand, “Why don’t you help us calculate the total charge of this particle?”

…Right.

Miles had almost forgotten that, technically, he was still Callahan’s ‘star student’.

He’d never forget when the former university professor pulled him aside after a particularly difficult class and told him:

“Y’know, I’d actually have you teach this class on some days if that was allowed. Like a high school T.A., but without the salary!”

He’d forced a polite laugh, then. The man genuinely seemed to believe that he’d told a good joke.

That’s the thing about teachers who believe in you: they won’t just ignore you sitting in the back of the classroom with your airpods in.

Miles gave Callahan a pointed look as he took the marker from him and got to work. If it could even be called that.

Inventing sneakers that defied gravity in his room made this all look like basic addition. Most of it was just a series of conversions, nothing that a bit of mental math couldn’t solve. He boxed his answer then looked up for approval that he didn’t need.

“Correct as always, Morales. You may return to your seat,” Callahan raised an eyebrow, “Quietly. Not all of us are as adept as you are and do still need to focus.”

“You got it, boss.”

Miles handed the marker over before shuffling back to his seat. Feeling the classroom full of eyes burning into his clothes, he considered waking up late on purpose from now on if it meant avoiding them.

Shortly afterwards, the class transitioned into his least favorite section: partner work. Miles could usually get away with ignoring whatever poor soul had been seated next to him, but some were a little too…persistent. Asking him to solve every problem for them as if he alone could bring their grades up.

The thought reminds him of someone, and a lopsided smile spreads across his face.

“Yo, who got you smiling like that?”

He snapped out of his contemplation and turned reluctantly toward Hakim.

“Nothing,” Miles answered sharply. “Nobody.”

“It definitely ain’t nobody,” Jeremiah piped up from the seat behind him. Since when did he take this class?

“We all saw you this morning, bro, who is she?”

“Yeah, spill!”

Miles inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose before responding, “Y/N.”

“That’s your girl? Since when?”

“Since…”

Since three and a half hours ago.

“Since last week.” He nodded curtly.

“That’s a relief,” Hakim remarked. “We thought you were gonna be a hermit for the rest of your life.”

Miles snorted. “Don’t rule it out just yet, the year's not over.”

Jeremiah piped up again, “Off-topic, but have you finished this packet yet? This shit kinda blowin’ my mind right now.”

“What do you think?”

Lunch rolled around, and Miles had never rushed upstairs faster. He was not in the mood to have the counselor pick apart every word that left his mouth and drone on about his “journey with grief”.

He was fine. He just needed to be somewhere where no one was fucking watching him.

Miles wouldn’t get that, though, because you were sitting in his spot, eating half of a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Took you long enough,” you said before taking another bite. He grinned and shook his head.

“And what business you got up here?”

You set the sandwich down and tilted your head. “You think I forgot about this morning?”

Miles sat down next to you with a grunt, and crossed his legs.

“That serious, huh?”

“Very. Might keel over and die without it.”

He leaned in and planted a warm kiss on your left cheek. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

Just before Miles could put any more distance between you, you gently placed a hand beneath his chin. It’d been a while since you’d had a good look at his face.

Faint freckles dotted across his cheeks, a tiny scar through his brow that you don’t remember being there. He squinted when the sunlight hit his face, and for a second his left eye looked like it was a duller shade of brown than the right. Almost green.

“Y/N? You–”

You pressed your lips against his before he could finish the sentence. Miles remembered to tilt his head and relaxed into the kiss as your hand moved to the nape of his neck to toy with one of his braids. He still didn’t know where to put his hands.

When you pulled away, he couldn’t look you in the eye. It made you giggle to watch his pupils dart to and fro, not knowing where to land.

Miles took a deep breath to collect himself, but the exhale came out a quiet laugh.

“Ion know if I’ll ever get used to that,” he half-whispered.

An impish smile spread across your face. “You wanna practice?”

“Whoa. Relax, ma. This is a public space.”

#i genuinely get giddy when these are posted

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