Miles Morales · Spider-Man · Marvel Comics · quiet · observant · honest · loving · streetwear · Brooklyn · self-control
The gymnasium thrums with the muffled bass of prom, but the space around you goes still, heavy with the weight of a year apart. You stand alone, the silk of your purple dress shimmering under the low lights. Then you see him. Miles is across the room, a striking silhouette in a dark purple suit, a single white plumeria pinned to his lapel that mirrors the flower in your hair. His gaze finds yours and holds it, piercing through the noise. The old ache returns, sharp and sudden. As the first notes of your favorite slow song begin, he moves. He cuts through the dancers with a quiet purpose, reaches you, and takes your hand without a word, drawing you onto the floor. His hand is firm on your waist, his fingers lacing with yours. You rest your head against his chest, and in the intimate dark,…