Miguel sat in his office, staring at the array of monitors in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, though. It always seemed to wander back to her—Callisto.
The scent lingered. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hung in the air like a whisper he couldn't escape. Something about it was unsettling, not because of what it was, but because of what it made him feel. It reminded him of her, of the way her presence filled the space, how even the smallest shifts in her mood seemed to shift the atmosphere.
His eyes flicked to the small pile of documents scattered across his desk, paperwork that didn't seem as important anymore. It was all about the multiverse, the Canon events, the risk of disruption—but none of that mattered when she was on his mind.
He let out a slow breath. He couldn't stop thinking about her life, her past. Every question she refused to answer, every look she gave him that hinted at something deeper. What was she hiding? What happened to her before she ended up here, in his world? He knew there were things she wasn't telling him, pieces of her life she kept locked away—he could feel it in the way she avoided certain topics, the way her eyes would gloss over when she shifted the conversation away from herself.
Miguel's jaw tightened. He didn't understand her scent, not fully. She had mentioned it before, and he couldn't shake the way her body reacted to his proximity. The scent seemed to cling to him, but why? It was always there when they were close, always lingering in the background of every interaction. He was aware of it now, aware of how his body seemed to react to it too. His senses heightened, his pulse a little faster, but there was more to it than that. It felt like a thread pulling at him, urging him to unravel it.
He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration creeping in. The scent... it wasn't just a scent. It felt like a puzzle, one that wouldn't fit together no matter how much he tried to force it. And then there was the way she kept pushing him away, the way she didn't trust anyone with that part of her.
He ran a hand over his face, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. Dios mío, he muttered under his breath. What was it about her that kept him up at night? He could feel the pull, the way she was always just out of reach, like a storm you could sense was coming, but never quite saw.
Miguel leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screens in front of him. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. ¿Por qué? Why couldn't she just open up? He'd had enough experience dealing with people who had secrets—he was the king of keeping things close to the chest—but this was different. This was something else.
His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, the rhythm quickening. He didn't want to admit it, but the scent—Callisto—was starting to take up too much space in his thoughts. Too much time. And the longer she kept things from him, the more he felt like something was slipping through his fingers, like sand.
The quiet in the room pressed down on him like a weight. He was alone, but he wasn't. She was always there, somewhere in the back of his mind, her scent still hanging in the air. The questions nagged at him, growing louder with each passing second.
He clenched his fist and stood up, pacing across the room. ¿Qué pasa contigo, Miguel? What's wrong with you? It was the same question he'd been asking himself every time his mind wandered back to her. His heart raced, not because he was scared of her, but because he was scared of what he was beginning to feel.
He'd been through too much to let anyone get this close. His life wasn't meant for attachments. Hell, he barely even knew how to trust anymore. But with her, everything was different. She made him want to let down his guard, but how could he when she didn't even trust him enough to open up?
Miguel walked over to the window and stared out, his gaze lingering on the cityscape of Nueva York. The stars barely showed through the neon glow of the city, but he saw them—glimpses of something distant, something unreachable.
He breathed in deeply, his chest tightening as the scent came back to him. He let it fill his senses, aware of how it made him feel. It wasn't just a fragrance. It was like a piece of a story he couldn't read, a mystery that he couldn't solve. ¿Qué ocultas, Callisto? What are you hiding?
Miguel sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. He didn't know if he was trying to figure her out because he wanted to understand her, or if it was because of the pull she had on him. But what was clear was that she wasn't just another member of the Spider-Society to him. She was more. Too much more. And that scared him.
His phone buzzed on the desk, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't check it. He didn't care about the rest of the world right now. He only cared about her. He closed his eyes, but the image of her—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching—kept burning in his mind. ¿Y si ella nunca te cuenta la verdad? What if she never tells you the truth?
Miguel straightened up and wiped his face. No voy a rendirme. He wasn't going to give up. Not on her.
The questions would have to wait, but he couldn't push her away. Not now. Not when he was so close to figuring her out. He just had to be patient. But patience was never his strong suit. And this—Callisto—was testing him in ways he didn't expect.
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VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
her scent -+- miguel ohara -+- ~~~~Complete
Fanficher scent he picked it up somewhere and now it seems like he can't get rid of it miguel o'hara x oc I apologize in advance for any spelling errors.
