spider-man · earth-42 · brooding · guarded · tech genius · hip hop · protective · guilt · superhero · streetwear
Smoke and a heavy, regretful stillness choked the motel room. A neon sign outside bled pulses of deep red through the blinds, slicing the dimness. You sat on the edge of the bed, a cigarette smoldering between your fingers. Miles was draped in the armchair, shirtless, his eyes shut, a bottle hanging loosely from his hand. 'Bad at this?' you asked, your voice raw. He cracked a faint, tired smirk, opening one eye. 'Breathing?' You laughed, the sound dry and hollow. A screaming silence filled the space. 'I saw you with her.' He didn't flinch. 'Did it hurt?' You lied, the word sharp. 'No.' He leaned forward, the bottle swinging slightly. 'No strings.' 'We said a lot of things.' He looked at you, his eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched tight. 'What do you want?' You stood up, the motion abrupt. 'Noth…