Miles' arms burned with exhaustion, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat that bore testament to his rigorous workout. The rhythmic thuds against the punching bag echoed in the makeshift training area, punctuating the air with each powerful strike. As his fists finally met the bag for the last time, he released a heavy sigh, surrendering his spent body to the welcoming embrace of the nearby couch. His chest heaved, and the once-taut braids that crowned his head now cascaded over his shoulders, framing a face marked by determination.
Gently, he began the ritual of unwinding the pristine white tape that had encased his hands, its remnants spiraling downward in a haphazard dance towards the floor. The act was methodical, practiced, almost soothing in its familiarity. The tension that had gripped his knuckles and wrists gradually released, mirroring the release of the pent-up energy that had fueled his training session.
The hands of the clock had swept through hours as Aaron ventured to the freshly established Alchemax location. His mission: to steal the cutting-edge weaponry stashed within. Initially slated to accompany Aaron, Miles had been ensnared by a prior engagement with his mom. When he eventually reached his uncle's place, he found himself confronted by an empty apartment. Cursing himself, he just switched through the workout machines until his body gave up on him.
The revelation of his uncle's illicit activities had kindled a fierce fire within Miles. The desire to avenge his father's death, to hold the one responsible for his pain accountable, had become an all-consuming drive. For the past ten months, Miles had immersed himself in relentless training. By day, he navigated the halls of Visions Academy, his facade that of a diligent student. But when the sun dipped beneath the horizon, he transformed into a masked vigilante, joining forces with Aaron to wreak havoc upon the forces of corruption.
The summer break provided an opportune backdrop for his endeavors. With no academic obligations to encumber him, Miles had honed his skills with unwavering dedication. He had become a whirlwind of activity, a blur of motion both within the halls of learning and among the shadows where justice met vengeance.
As Miles settled onto the couch, his fatigue luring him towards a brief respite, a subtle sound pierced the air – the soft creak of a window yielding to intrusion. His instincts surged to the forefront, snapping him into an alert posture. In a heartbeat, he was on his feet, his hand instinctively gripping his uncle's abandoned beer bottle. Without hesitation, he hurled it toward the source of the sound, his muscles acting in tandem with his heightened senses. The bottle sailed through the air, a transient projectile propelled by a mixture of anticipation and readiness.
On the opposing end, a figure draped in shades of regal purple displayed an uncanny swiftness, snatching the bottle deftly from its trajectory before it could crash against the room's perimeter. A curt movement of the figure's arm dispatched the bottle out of the window, as his eyes, obscured by his mask, bore into the latecomer.
"Where were ya?" The voice, tinged with a hint of impatience, sliced through the air.
A sigh of resignation escaped Miles' lips, his tone a mix of exasperation and contrition. "Hijueputa..." he muttered, his gaze dropping momentarily before he met Aaron's gaze head-on. "Was busy."
A derisive snort emanated from Aaron, his incredulity palpable. "Busy with what?" He shook his head, the disapproval evident in his tone. "You got any idea how important this is, Miles?"
Miles' jaw clenched, the tension radiating from his rigid stance. His response was laced with a steely resolve. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to keep reminding me every damn second."
Aaron let out an exasperated groan, his frustration a visible shadow beneath his mask. He pulled the mask off his head, the action serving as a visible sign of exasperation. Miles was well aware of Aaron's reservations about his involvement in their affairs. It was a boundary Aaron had erected, a barrier to shield Miles from the dangerous life he led. Yet, despite the unspoken understanding, Miles had committed too deeply to this path to retreat now.
"Just give me a heads-up if you're not gonna make it, alright?" Aaron's tone softened, a rare display of concern breaking through the façade of sternness.
Miles met his uncle's gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "Yeah. Got it," he affirmed, the weight of his commitment evident in his resolute response.
"Now, head on home, your ma wants you back for dinna," Aaron's voice directed with a blend of authority and care.
Miles emitted a resigned sigh, his movements carrying a hint of reluctance as he reached for his black sweater. As he embarked on the journey homeward, each step seemed to cascade him back into a cascade of memories, a relentless current pulling him into moments that intertwined with his path.
Walking these streets was a bittersweet ordeal, for every corner held echoes of shared experiences, each building a repository of emotions. God, how he longed for her, his heart aching with the sheer intensity of his yearning. But he knew the bitter truth, the harsh reality that held his actions captive. He couldn't introduce her to this perilous existence, couldn't risk her becoming ensnared in the web of danger that shrouded his world. For her safety, he'd bear the weight of separation, even as it carved a void within him.
Finally reaching the corner adjacent to his apartment, his senses pricked, a faint but unmistakable sound causing him to pause abruptly. It was a laugh, a sound that held the power to unravel his composure, to stir dormant emotions that simmered just beneath the surface.
Transfixed, he turned his gaze towards the source of the sound, his heart momentarily seizing within his chest. There she was, a vision that materialized before him, her presence as striking as a dream turned reality. The brown of her hair, loosely braided, cascaded down her back, a testament to the gentle familiarity he'd never forget. The only thing different about her was the thin bangs at the front of her hair and god did she look good with them...
Her head was tilted slightly, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she deftly handled her keys. The bright, infectious smile that danced upon her lips ignited a whirlwind of emotions within him, a symphony of joy and ache that resonated through his being. She was engrossed in conversation, her voice a melody that serenaded his ears, wrapping him in a cocoon of nostalgia.
For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, their worlds intersecting in a realm that defied the boundaries of past and present. Miles head began to go dizzy at the sight of her, it felt like he was a man who had some disease and she was the only cure, before the weight of his reality bore down on him once more.
"I'm not going out with him Lo for the last time!" She pestered. Date? What fucking date? Unbeknownst to Daphne, her tirade had unwittingly caused Miles' fingers to curl into tight fists, his gaze shooting daggers at the innocuous device that was practically an extension of Daphne's presence.
Daphne's voice continued its spirited protest, but an abrupt shift in her demeanor cut her off mid-sentence. Her body pivoted sharply, her senses on high alert as she scanned her surroundings. For a fleeting moment, her eyes seemed to lock onto a point in the distance, narrowing as if attempting to pierce the darkness that veiled the area. A frown marred her features as she strained to see, though the shadows seemed to thwart her efforts.
"Hey, I'll call you back later," Daphne's voice was suddenly laced with an air of urgency, the conversation cut short with a decisiveness that hinted at something amiss. "May's gonna be home in a bit, and I need to get dinner ready. Yup, yup, got it. Bye, bye. Love you!"
With a swift motion, she ended the call, tucking her phone away in her pocket. The atmosphere around her seemed to hum with a sense of alertness, a tension that clung to the air like static. With a final scan around she quickly opened the main door to the building and began to climb the flight of stairs.
Not wanting to take any chance of bumping into her, regardless of how much he wished he was near her, he waited before entering the same building. The reality of their shared proximity gnawed at him; the fact that they were neighbors seemed to amplify the difficulty of avoiding her. Yet, with a measure of skill and determination, he always found a way to sidestep those moments, slipping away from her orbit despite the gravitational pull of their history.
""Miles?" His mom's voice echoed through the space as he entered the room, a gentle beckoning that drew his attention.
"Hey, Mami," he greeted her with a small, affectionate smile. Observing her closely, he couldn't help but notice the deeper lines etching her features, a testament to the weariness that seemed to cling to her like an invisible shroud. The sight of his mother bearing the weight of her burdens tugged at his heart, a silent ache settling within him. He longed to alleviate her struggles, but the frustrating reality was that his hands often felt tied in the face of life's challenges.
Within the bustling confines of the kitchen, she moved with a sense of urgency, her focus on gathering ingredients for the impending meal, "Oh bien, estás en casa, estaba a punto de llamar a tu tío."
"Mami, ¿necesitas ayuda?" Miles inquired, his eyes falling on the array of ingredients laid out before them. He reached for the paprika, a familiar scent confirming his suspicions about what she was preparing. He felt a twinge of confidence in his culinary knowledge and figured he could lend a hand.
A gentle protest escaped her lips, an attempt to assuage his offer. "No, no, it's okay. Go take a shower, papa."
"Ma, seriously, it's fine," Miles insisted, his voice carrying a firm resolve. Positioned behind his mother, he reached over to gently take the wooden spoon from her hand. With a tender kiss planted on her forehead, he urged her to step away. "Go sit down for a bit. I can handle this."
A mixture of skepticism and concern flickered across his mother's expression as she regarded her son. "Are you sure? You seem tired."
His assurance was unwavering, and he met her gaze with a determined conviction. "I'm sure Ma, go get sum rest okay? I'll be witchu in a sec and we can watch a telenovela or sumthin together?"
Responding to his words, she bestowed upon him a warm, appreciative smile. Her fingers brushed lightly from his forehead to the back of his braids, a gesture laden with affection. "I love you."
The sentiment was reciprocated with sincerity, his own voice carrying the weight of his emotions. "Love you too, Ma."
Turning toward Miles, she interjected with an air of excitement that carried a trace of mischief. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, May got an email yesterday saying Daphne got into Visions. Isn't that exciting? You two get to spend time together again!"
Miles' grip on the spoon tightened reflexively, a subtle shift in his demeanor betraying the turmoil her words ignited within him. "What?" he managed to utter, his voice tinged with incredulity and a touch of panic.
Rio, her gaze flitting between mother and son, mirrored Miles' confusion with her own. "Yeah, didn't you know? I thought since you guys hang out all the time she would have told you..."
In that instant, Miles was confronted with the labyrinth of his own deceptions, the intricate web he had woven to maintain his double life. The weight of his half-truths bore down on him, a precarious balancing act that now teetered dangerously close to exposure. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation that could preserve the delicate facade he had constructed.
"Oh, she probably just wanted to surprise me. I'll make sure to act shocked tomorrow," he offered, his words flowing with practiced ease. Yet beneath his calm exterior, his heart hammered with an uneasy rhythm.
A shadow of disappointment crossed his mother's features, her frown a reflection of her remorse. "Oh no, I ruined the surprise. I thought she already told you! I'm sorry."
Miles swiftly shifted his focus, attempting to quell his mother's concern. "Don't worry about it, Mami. Now, let me finish this before I end up burning it," he reassured her, his nod accompanied by a swift turn to face away from her.
His thoughts raced, his mind a whirlwind of anxiety. The once-convenient excuse of school had shielded him from the inevitability of their paths crossing, but now, with Daphne's impending arrival at Visions, his carefully constructed separation was on the verge of collapsing.