Familia ✧ MILES MORALES ❨o.h.❩

13 - The Return of An Old Friend

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" THE BOY ASKED LUNA AS HE DROVE. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Luna shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. "No, he didn't. I'm alright." She exhaled in relief, then nodded at him. "Thanks." 

"Of course," the boy replied. 

Now that Luna could hear clearly, she heard that the boy had a Spanish accent - Colombian, by the sound of it. But there was something about his voice and his face that seemed familiar to her - something she couldn't seem to put her finger on. 

"I'd ask you why Spider-Man was after you, but the car, the butterfly on your jacket, and the fact that you're a gang member pretty much answers that question," the boy said after a moment. 

Luna nodded. "Yeah, I know, I-" Then, she stopped herself when his words sunk in. "Wait, you know I'm in a gang?" 

"Yeah." The boy nodded. "It was pretty obvious. But I didn't think you would, considering your aversion to guns."

Luna frowned. "How do you know I don't like guns?"

The boy glanced at her, a grin on his face. "You really don't remember me? I mean, I know I've grown up some, but come on, Luna. I thought you'd at least recognize my voice." 

Luna glanced at the boy, frowning deeply as she took in his features and let his voice register in her head. Then, after a moment, she got a fleeting memory - one of her when she was much younger, playing with a boy in the streets of Havana while her grandmother and parents watched. And though this boy next to her had more facial hair, and his hair was longer, there was no mistaking those broad shoulders and warm, intelligent brown eyes. It was the same brown eyes of her childhood friend from Havana - Benjamín Berrocal. 

Benjamín and Luna were best friends back in Luna's hometown of Havana, Cuba. Originally from Medellín, Colombia and only eight months older than Luna, he had spent his early years in Havana, where he had met Luna. The two were inseparable; they did everything together. Then, when Luna was six and Benjamín had just turned seven, Luna's family moved to Brooklyn, leaving Benjamín behind. Luna was devastated when they moved, knowing she would probably never see him again, but when she tried to send letters to him, her father had intercepted them, telling her that she needed to put her friendship with Benjamín behind her and focus on their new life. 

"Oh my god," Luna said in disbelief. "Wait, Ben?" When the boy smiled wider and nodded, Luna's face lit up, and she said happily, "Oh my God, Ben!" She slugged his arm playfully, leading him to laugh. "Dude, what are you doing here?!" 

"Alma, mi abuela and I moved here about five months ago," Benjamín said.

"Really?" Luna said. "But I thought your grandpa wanted to stay in Havana." 

"Well, he actually moved us back to Medellín about two years after you left, and I've been there since. But then, he passed away, and my grandma had a hard time finding work. So we moved here, and I took over so I could help pay for the house." 

"Oh my god," Luna said softly; she knew how close Benjamín was to his grandparents. "I'm so sorry, Ben." 

"It's alright," Benjamín told her. "It wasn't your fault." 

They were both silent before Luna turned to her friend. "So how do you guys like New York? And where are you living now?" 

Benjamín chuckled. "New York is... very different from Colombia. But it's nice. I'm liking it, and so is mi abuela. And we live at the edge of Harlem, not too far from Teo's Bodega." 

"Oh, I know where that is," Luna said with a nod. "I go to Teo's all the time on the weekends." 

"I haven't been yet, but I heard it's a nice place," Benjamín replied, also nodding.