yupher

[yupher]

earth-42 Miles Morales x GN! reader

The day it all started

or Drabble about how you and miles became close (kind of)

Warnings: Miles is aloof and distant thanks to his canon events in this universe. Reader is overbearing (just a tad) and has a one-sided rivalry with Miles. Mentions of blood and injuries. Mentions of death. Enemies to friends to??

P.S.: I wrote this with a male reader in mind, turned out gender-neutral and stick to it. English is not my first language so excuse any spelling or redaction mistakes. This is my first post yay!

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• Everything started in freshman year, you and Miles both won a spot in the prestigious private school Brooklyn Visions Academy.

• You’re both equally intelligent, having passed the entry test with perfect scores.

• You earned this.

• You’ve been academically competitive all your life, this opportunity was the way to prove your worth and you weren’t going to lose it.

• Miles didn’t want to go there, he preferred to stay at his old school.

• He didn’t need a bunch of snobby and stuck-up kids to look him weird.

• He also had a lot going on, his uncle granted him more responsibility on missions, and even helped him build his own mask

• He was chasing his full potential.

• You both were cranky at the beginning, not interacting with one another at all.

• He kept to himself, preferring to be alone rather than bothered.

• You seemed to attract people unintended, they drifted to you.

• You had a handful of acquaintances now, it became useful for team projects and other things.

The day you first interacted with Miles was a Tuesday, the routine was easy. You share History and social studies on the first block. You sit in the second row, he sits in the back.

Mister Fujita started the lesson with a brief summary of the latest class and told everyone the next mark would be an essay, done in duos. You rolled your eyes discretely- working with other people was simply troubling it only brought problems. While you thought of who would you ask to be with you the professor said he would be the one to make the pairs.

Miles was sitting with crossed arms, his usual resting face (that his mom told him numerous times was unfriendly) and his leg bouncing up and down. He was on edge. Today was the anniversary of his father's death. He wasn't exactly putting a lot of attention to what the Professor was saying, only coming back from the deep of his thoughts when he heard his name being called.

Alongside yours.

You could only sigh in frustration, turning around to look for him between the numerous students. To your surprise, his hard gaze was already on you, it made you shiver slightly. You fixed your eyes on the board as Mr. Fujita kept giving the directions for the essay. You dammed yourself, knowing you couldn't escape this.

When the professor sent everyone to organize the essay with their pair at the end of the lecture, you grudgingly stood up to go and talk with Morales. You ignored the pitiful looks some of your classmates sent you, it was futile to give them any more reasons to pity you right now.

Stopping in front of his seat, you made an effort to look at him. Again his eyes found you first, following you since you raised from your chair.

“I have a free period from 12 to 2- if you have the time we can go to the study hall to sort this out.” your words sound robotic. As if you studied them a hundred times to make them sound as neutral as possible.

Miles was fidgeting with his pencil, hardly paying you any mind. He seemed nonchalant as always and it bothered you. You were about to talk again when he interrupted you. “I also have that block free.” was his only response, eyes unmoving and unbothered by your presence.

“Good.” it was dry, your lips a thin line as you nodded. God, what was his deal? “Don't be late.” was the last thing you said before going back to retrieve your things and leave for your next class.

As you left the classroom with everyone else, Miles observed unblinking your every move. He could feel the headache you were about to be for the next week.

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11:56 am

You strode through the hallways, not wanting to be late for your study meeting and give Miles the satisfaction of winning this.

As you rounded a corner you collided with a hard surface. You bounced a few steps back but not enough to make you fall, you huffed and smoothed over your uniform jacket. “I'm sorry for the-” words died on your tongue. Miles stood there, staring rigidly. He only gives you a once-over and enters the study hall, you tail after him with notorious displeasure. He sits at an empty table and starts to pull his things out of his backpack. You mimic him and pull out the course books, opening them to show him some topics of interest.

“I thought we could focus on the lack of civic infrastructure in the country-” Miles couldn't bring himself to listen to your babbling. He was tired, eyebags dark and present on his drained face. Sleep didn't come as easy as it used to.

His only focus was trying to leave unnoticed after your meeting, to go to his uncle's flat. He couldn't concentrate today, he needed something else to try and distract him from the simmering agitation in his chest.

You stopped talking a minute ago, noting his absent stare and the way he didn't even knowledge your attempts to make this project work, he was just sitting there, ignoring you completely.

He was taken back to the present when he saw your infuriated stare and your hand waving in front of him. “Did you even listen to what I said?” your tone was surely a clue, you were mad.

“I didn't-” “No, you didn't listen to anything I said for the past ten minutes. If you don't want to work through this essay with me I'm fine doing it alone- believe me, I'll do better without you weighing me down.” Both of you were breathing heavily, the tension palpable for all the students that were close enough to hear you.

“If you want to procrastinate you won't do well, trust me, Morales you'll-” Miles only saw red. He didn't process what happened till he saw the blood flowing down your nose.

The rest came in a blur.

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He was looking at you with narrowed eyes, maybe thanks to the bruise that was starting to take form on his left side, or maybe was the loathing he felt at the moment. Busted lip and black eye, his uncle would laugh at his face for letting you land those punches at him.

You weren't meeting his gaze, instead, you focused on keeping your nose tucked down, a cloth on your nostrils preventing more blood to stream down. There was blood on your jacket and shirt, on your trousers, and even on your socks. You could feel his burning gaze on you, he was fuming.

You were sitting outside the principal's office, his mom and your dad inside talking while you waited. Everyone that passed by could guess what happened between you two. The rumors started to flow through the school hallways, they weren't any good.

Miles felt foolish, how could his feelings get a hold of him like that? He was an idiot. But the anger he harbored toward himself was also directed at you, you and your big mouth- never ceasing. He never put that much attention on you, he knew that both of you were new at the academy but he never engaged in conversation with, well- anyone.

Meanwhile, you were having a mental breakdown. You'll probably get expelled. All the hard work; the sweat, the tears, the blood. Was for nothing. Down to fucking dust. Were you dramatic? A little, but it was your academic future you were talking about. It WAS that serious. The taste of iron left on your mouth felt utterly appalling at the moment. A constant reminder of your irrational thinking that lead you right here, sitting in front of the asshole that broke your nose.

Finally you gazed up at him, his injuries angrily adorning his already threatening look.

“¿Qué mierda miras?” he pointed his chin towards you, hushedly as he tried to contain his wrath.

The door opened before you could answer him, both your parents leaving while the principal escorted them out.

It was dead silent, each one leaving with their respective guardian. You sent a last look to the other, filled with resentment.

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Speed fast to next Tuesday

You woke up early to try and explain to Professor Fujita why you were turning in the essay alone. Uniform clean and tidy, you left in utter silence wishing you didn't wake up your roommate.

When passing the massive windows of the academy, you glanced at your reflection. Your eyebags were no longer bruised, nose looked better than before- that's what your dad said at least. Even if you tried to forget what happened a week ago the remnants of the brawl still taint your face. It was the fight for a great part of the school population and suddenly, everyone knew your name! How vapid they were to only care about quarrels between students. Maybe it was because Miles also didn't divulge anything about what happened in the study hall- the secrecy of it all peaking their attention.

And Miles, you avoided him any chance you got even in the classes you shared; you arrived first and left first, didn't spare him a glance even. The reality was you were ashamed of your behavior that day. After a day of pondering and a long scolding from your father, he told you about how dreadful that day was for Miles and explained to you what happened for him to act that way. It only deepened your shame. You didn't know how to apologize to him for that, you didn't know how to begin. So you decided to avoid him, he probably didn't want to see you anyways. He most definitely hated your guts.

When you arrived at the classroom you weren't at all surprised it was empty, you'll wait for Mr. Fujita anyway. What did surprise you though was seeing Miles come a minute after you, the sun casting on his face and making his eyes squint. The black of his eye was no longer visible, the only leftover of the fight was the scarred bottom lip you gave him. You rapidly fixed your eyes on your table, nervously waiting for him to make his way to the back of the room. But he never did. Instead, he dropped his backpack on the table beside yours, pulling the chair out to sit down.

Miles looked towards you only to see your eyes glued to the wooden table, he raised his brows and exhaled loudly. He could swear he saw you glance his way. He turned his body in your direction, eyes focused.

“Hey.” he called, sounding detached. You stir up on your seat and knowledge him with a curt nod, he sighs.

He tilts his head to the side, contemplating if he was willing to leap into this. “Look, I already give Mr. Fujita our essay-”

“You did what?” He cursed under his breath, the pure look of distress on your face was enough for him to reevaluate his whole speech.

“I thought it would be a good thing! I'm trying to apologize here-” “You're not apologizing.” “Could you let me finish for an instance?” his accent grew ticker when he was mad, you could tell.

You looked up at him, eyes doubtful with every move. He seemed utterly serious, not like he wasn’t daily, but the hardness of his stare holds something different this time: Determination. You nod your head, signaling for him to continue. He relaxed on the seat, letting his shoulders fall defeatedly to his sides.

“I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have resorted to punching you in the face and I didn't mean to break your nose. Mierda- look, it wasn't my best moment, but I know what I did was wrong and I shouldn't have let my frustration out on you.” his eyes searched for a reaction, you barely could process his words when you started to talk.

“I was out of place. Acted like a shithead and started to berate you as if I knew more as if I was better- I'm not.” you paused to compose yourself, your hands trembling with uncertainty. “I'm sorry for what I did too, your face and what I said.” you clarify.

There's an uncomfortable quietness invading the room, but Miles starts to laugh out of nowhere. It scared you for a second, his laugh was something foreign to you. But it was contagious. And soon enough you cracked up with him.

He stops only to smile teasingly at you, gaze still intimidating though. “You have a mean left hook bro, got me struggling to try and beat you up.”

“You kidding? Man, you broke my nose! How could I compete with that?” you follow his bait and soon enough, he's listening to you tell him all about the medical procedure you had to endure to fix your nose.

He may appear unconcerned about your retelling, but Miles is listening attentively. Every detail makes it deep into his mind, eyes fixing on the way your hands move to narrate the story with you.

You didn't have the best start, but it seems now the two of you may become well acquainted with each other.

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“¿Que mierda miras?”: the fuck you looking at?

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