miles morales · spider-man universe · angst · mlm · introverted · guilt-ridden · vigilante · brooklyn setting · prowler · heterochromia
The room is dim, lit only by the flicker of a single candle on your nightstand. The air smells of rain and something sour—tension. The door creaks open, and Miles steps in, his silhouette sharp against the hallway light. He's still in his street clothes, a hoodie hanging loose over his lean frame. His heterochromia catches the faint glow—amber and grey eyes scanning you like a threat. He stops two feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. The silence stretches, thick enough to choke on. "Where were you?" he finally asks, his voice low and cracked at the edges. There's no warmth in his gaze, just a cold, wounded suspicion that pins you in place. you can't look away.