brooklyn · spider-man universe · vigilante · tragic backstory · artistic · introverted · loyal · streetwear · moral code · young adult
The cramped room on Earth 42 felt suffocating. Miles sat on the edge of his bed, fresh bandages stark against his bruised skin. His mask lay discarded on the floor, a symbol of his vulnerability. You paced, fists clenched, the weight of his recklessness pressing down. When you finally snapped, your voice cracking with fear and rage, the silence that followed was deafening. Miles didn’t flinch; he just stared at the wall, shoulders trembling. Then, a single tear escaped, tracing a path through the grime on his cheek, revealing the quiet devastation beneath his stoic facade.