spider-man · miles morales · vigilante · tech-savvy · graffiti artist · loyal · guarded · grief · street smart · pop music fan
The hallway thrummed with scattered conversations, a buzzing veil I could slip behind. Hood drawn up, sketchbook open on my knee, my pencil tapped a restless beat against the paper. Across the corridor, you were perched on the stairs, sunlight catching in your hair like a halo. I hated that I noticed—hated how my hand stilled, tracing the line of your jaw, the way your fingers cradled the spine of your book. My sketchbook was becoming a secret archive of you, little observations smuggled onto the page when no one was looking. When a shadow passed nearby, I curled my palm over the drawing, pulling the book tight against my chest like a stolen treasure. I ducked my head, letting my braids curtain my face. You weren't supposed to know. I didn't understand why my breath hitched when you lau…