"What the...how the hell did I end up here?" The costumed teen asked to particularly no one. After his many fruitless attempts at reaching out to Gwen Stacy, he had succeeded...while simultaneously failing at the same time. This place, the same place he'd teleported to to find it void of presence, did not give off her essence, which had attracted him to her to begin with. Clearly this was someone else's residence. With a whispered sigh Spider-Man began inspecting the place.
He seemed to have teleported himself to a New York apartment with white walls and brown wooden flooring. Nothing special, though the unnerving silence attracted fear towards him. Where were the inhabitants? His spider senses assured him of no eminent danger, although not so much on anyone's presence. Still, he rummaged through the white bulky refrigerator in the kitchen for a snack.
An apple from an apple bag stashed in one of the kitchen cupboards caught his eye, and he grasped at it with care, so as to not make noise in case anyone was within the apartment's vicinity. Then, he removed his mask, and for a moment reverted back to being Miles Morales.
As he indulged in the saccharine extract of the apple, Miles Morales happened to notice a creak, creak, creak in the floorboards, and so Miles Morales turned around to face a kid the same age as him, staring dumbfounded at the Afro-Latino teenager.
Or at Spider-Man. But what matter would it be? Spider-Man got caught. Miles Morales got caught. And they were both in big trouble.
The awkward silence that the teenagers radiated was just too much for Miles. He broke the ice. "Hey, these apples are good. Where you get them from?"
That was the best he could do at interrupting the silence.
Well, the other teenager, who Miles noticed had short hair that curled at the top, thin black spectacles, and naturally full lips, still kept his confounded expression. Finally, he spoke, albeit with an awkward tone. "Oh. My. God. Are you Miles Morales?"
"How you know me already? I don't even know you at all!"
"Wha-how? How are you in here of all places? Hi, I'm Edward! I'm, like, a fan of yours!"
"Hold up," disturbed Miles as he rhythmically rubbed the right temple of his head, "you mean to tell me that I have fans? Or Peter Parker's Spider-Man has fans?"
"No, your version of Spider-Man! They even made an animated film starring you." The lightly-skinned teenager without a name searched something up on his Android and shoved it in Miles' face. It was a Wikipedia page for Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.
"Damn," said Miles between reading excerpts of the page, clearly astonished, "I have fans. Just like Peter Parker." The thought of resuming the late Peter Parker's legacy respectfully made him feel good. He had managed to follow in Peter's footsteps, even garnering a fanbase as massive as the OG Spider-Man's. And he was face-to-face with a fan. Who was actually excited to meet him, see him, be with him...and who wasn't...
...well, so...
...so good looking...
...no, no he wasn't, just okay looking, but...
...he did have some defining muscles, and...
...and he got lost in his mind.
What had he been thinking about before?
"Are you okay?" said Edward quizzically, snapping Miles back into reality.
"Yeah, man, I just...spaced out, I guess," dragged out Miles. "Didn't think anyone would ever look up to me. Thought Peter would always overshadow me. But it's nice to know that I have my own movie and following. Especially with fans like you who are, what's the word, devoted to me?"
The teenager slipped him a shy smile and turned his attention to the floor, as if he was interacting with it from now on. "I'm not your biggest fan, you know? I only became a fan after hearing news of the Spider-Verse film and saw you."
"You still a fan," accented Miles, "and I appreciate you for that".
Another hidden smile. Then more white noise. No talking.
Nothing.
"Want to go into my room?" Stuttered the teenager. "You seem tired. We could hang out and chill while you charge your batteries and the likes."
"Sure thing," perked up Miles. Frankly, teleporting _was_ something he was not accustomed to, and had worn him out. He followed the teenager into his room, staring at him from behind. His beating heart was trying to tell him something from within his subconscious, but he tried to push that thought aside.
When they arrived, Miles looked around the room and considered its small-spaced atmosphere. Apart from a twin-sized bed with blue bed sheets and a cabinet acting as a bookshelf to a small stack of paperbacks, the room was baring furniture.
Worse still, there were only two posters plastered throughout the entire room, giving it an impersonal air about it. As the teenager laid in his bed, concentrating on the ceiling, Miles took this opportunity to inspect the closet, only to find a bunch of hanging clothes and 3 pair of shoes paired up side by side on the wooden closet floor.
It didn't hold his interest, so he headed towards the bed and laid next to the teenager without a name, paralleling the kid's vision towards the ceiling.
That's when he saw the poster for Spider-Verse. It featured him in his trademarked black-and-red Spider-Man costume, green hoodie worn on top, performing a backflip as a misty New York City loomed in the background.
He was about to inquire Edward on the poster, but was cut short by Edward himself. He had a question for him as well, it seemed. "I'm hungry. You want anything to eat?"
"Nah man, already devoured an apple from your fridge-"
"What? How long were you here?"
"Um, long enough to eat an entire apple?"
"You better haven't stalked me before I found you out. I had just finished showering when you appeared-"
"Oh, no, no, no!" Miles' words sped out at almost 100 MPH (Meters Per Hour), "IwasjusteatinganapplewhenyoucaughtmeredhandedandI'dneverthinkofdoingathinglikethat-" His cheeks flickered to a cherry cola shade.
"Dang, chill, Miles!" brightened up Edward, "I was just playing around. Don't take it to heart."
"Right, right," mustered Miles, embarrassed that his rambling had been to no avail.
"Unless you really were peepin-"
"So..you have a poster of me?" intercepted Miles. "Why's it on the ceiling?"
The teenager never wandered his stare off the ceiling, still studying it. "I had thought it would be the perfect place to display it. That way I get a better view of you because I-well, I admire you."
"Yeah," said Miles, hypnotized by his poster counterpart, "I'm aware of that."
Too hypnotized, in fact, that he did not attended to his host, who was eyeing him in...a particular way.
After fixing himself into the bedroom, his new friend popped him a question. "So in the Spider-Verse film, you spoke both English and Spanish. Am I correct?"
"Yeah?" enunciated Miles, not catching on to his fan's intentions.
"I too am bilingual," said Edward candidly, "Ain't that something?"
"Cool, cool", and so a conversation was sprung between the two boys. Their dialogue was simple but significant; they admitted their joint love of pizza, anxieties about meeting new people in a foreign environment (school, basically), and their daily routine. And it was transitioning smoothly, without any awkward intermissions.
It was.
"Yeah, it was awkward, but we're friends, so it's all good," finished Miles with a curving smile that inspired joy.
"Oh yeah! I remember that," exclaimed Ed.
"Hollywood can't tell it like how it is, though, can it?"
"Most of the time...basically."
"You heard the truth here, am I right?" He then threw himself up in laughter, while Edward instructed himself of the time. Now was perfect.
As nonchalantly as could be, Ed slipped his hand into Miles' thigh, rubbing it side to side, the heat rising from the motion.
The heat that had made Ed warm every time Miles invaded his every thought.
But this fantasy was diminished by Miles' reaction.
Miles frowned but remain submissive. Finally, though, he hissed at his romantic admirer with hostility.
"The fuck are you doing? You into that gay shit, aren't you?"
"N-no, I-I thought you had l-lint or something-"
"Shut the fuck up, you are a fag! I don't mess with that gay shit!"
"But I'm not, I'm really-no, come back, don't leave me in tears!"
He tried reaching for him. Another snarky reply came back in retaliation.
"Don't touch me...maricon."
The word lived on even as Miles entered the portal and left. Edward felt his throat raspy and dry; his eyes still and almost erupting from tears; and his body rusty and disjointed.
He couldn't even think of his next actions. Actually, he couldn't think of much at the moment. He stayed at the edge of his bed for a half-hour before settling on bathing. It would do good to him.
For one, it would cleanse him of shame.
And of his love for Miles Morales.