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Well, he didn’t had a lot going on in his dimension when Gwen finally came through a portal he especially made if ever things didn’t work out. He was lying on his bed in, tossing his guitar pick in the air and catching it right back on his palm when Gwen arrived. Even hit her with a, “Took you long enough.” before going through the portal with her. She didn’t even have to ask, he just went with it because he felt like doing so. Since he didn’t have anything else to do, even if he was supposed to be Spider-Man in his dimension, he went along cause he was bored and clearly not because he actually got bloody worried about Miles right after he dipped.
The whole saving part was fucking hectic. It was hard fighting the Prowler in Earth 42 when he looked a lot like the Miles he knew. While the Prowler actually is Miles Morales. Though it was a relief to have a team of spiders who actually acted right for a change. They didn’t beat the Prowler version of Miles who was supposed to be the Spider-Man of Earth 42 - not yet anyway - but they escaped just fine. A bit of a bumpy road, but they were lucky enough to be breathing.
Somehow, they all ended up in Peter’s place after the chaotic battle - more specifically, in his living room. His wife, Mary Jane, came to help with stitching up the spider team. They aren’t in the best of shapes, but hey, at least no one is close to actually dying.
The room’s atmosphere is heavy as hell, and Hobie feels icky under it as he patches himself up on the staircase where he got a full view of the entire room. In the dark with only three candles being their source of light, Hobie glances at Gwen while wrapping gauze around a huge claw mark on his upper arm after putting some medicine on it.
She sat on the long couch opposite to where Miles is. Gwen stares at the boy, watching him with an obvious glint of guilt and the mystery of how exactly is she going to fix this between them. As she’s getting treated by the lil Japanese kid, Peni, MJ is helping Miles bandage up. No one utters a word, and Miles has this bitter look on his face as he watches MJ wrap gauze around his wounded shoulder.
Hobie watches him from the sidelines.
Out of all of them, Miles is the one who looks the most beaten up. Bruises are all over his face with his right eye that can barely open. His bleeding-out-of-his-armpits suit is torn all over. It’s not anything too much to actually reveal every corner of Miles’ upper body, but enough for him to get easily cold. He’s quiet, looks gaunt and tired and empty. He seems to be holding back the rage.
He’s too nice, Hobie thinks as he looks away to bite down and pull the end of the gauze’s knot around his arm.
Even if Miles still felt angry deep down, he still doesn’t forget to be at least a tiny bit grateful to the people who saved his life out there. But then again, it was the same people who didn’t side with him when he needed the support most.
There’s still Gwen, too. Her stubbornness, overpowering guilt, and impatience. She croaks out a broken, “Miles—“
Her voice bounces on the hushed living room’s walls, echoing, but Miles refuses to catch it.
“Don’t, Gwen.” He crosses his eyebrows and the tension only grew more.
Everyone halts, looking at Miles’ direction completely now. Except for Hobie. He doesn’t feel like he’s in the room with them since he can hardly feel the pressure of the air, though he can read the room just fine. He watches silently as everything unfolds before him.
“Miles, I was just trying to do what’s right,” Gwen tries, “I was only trying to protect you.”
That hits a nerve - Hobie notices as Miles’ brows only crease even more. And Hobie has to agree. She shouldn’t have said it. He shakes his head mutedly.
“I don’t need protecting, Gwen, stop treating me like, like—like a kid.” Miles snaps, jolting up from the couch. He didn’t mean to, but he surprised MJ from suddenly standing, which made the woman gasp on the floor.
“I’m not ordinary. I’m not any different from you,” he points his palm at her, and proceeds to do so to every spider in the room too, “I’m not any different from any of you. So, if you wanna protect somebody, it’s not me. I’m someone who protects, and if you only saved me from that—that other me to change my mind about trying to save my dad again, then forget it.” He exhales sharply, not tearing his eyes off of Gwen that remained on the couch with nothing to say back whatsoever.
A silent burning determination lit in Miles’ eyes, and Hobie finds himself focusing on that.
The boy breathes shakily, slightly lifting his chin and standing his ground harder than any of them in the room ever did. “I’m not afraid of breaking this freaking generational cycle of the spider people. I’m going to save my dad, Imma do me - and if that meant disrupting every single dimension out there, then I’ll find another way to make it all work.” He grits out. His fists tremble. “You just can’t tell me to sacrifice shit. Not my dad, anyway. Not any one of my loved ones. Not any more.” This time, his tone was softer, weaker, as he recalled every single thing that traumatized him in the short time span of being the only Spider-Man in his Brooklyn.
“You can’t save everyone, Miles. This is your fate. I need you to understand.” Gwen speaks again, almost close to begging as she sounds so desperate. Miles glares. Hobie knows where that came from. He, himself, doesn’t like getting told that too.
“She’s right, Miles.” Pork adds in, standing at the far corner of the room with his arms crossed, “As Spider-Man, you always have to lose someone.”
Miles shakes his head with a huff at hearing that. Hobie hates it too, getting told what’s right or what isn’t. They don’t have the right to decide that for him.
“Sorry, but this is just so messed up.” Miles laughs bitterly, shaking his head again in disbelief with his arms raised in mock surrender. “You can’t tell me what my destiny is. Just because I’m a spider, doesn’t mean everything is planned out for me. This is my life.”
“Everything is planned out for you, kiddo,” Peter says, but his tone was weak. Like he doesn’t stand firmly on what he just said. “That’s just how it is.”
“Well, I don’t want it to be that way.” Stubbornly, Miles protests again.
Gwen sighs, head aching from how Miles is still adamantly refusing to listen to any word out of them, “Miles, you can’t change what is supposed to happe—“
“Stop.” Miles pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just stop. Stop telling me what I’m supposed to do and what not to do! You obviously didn’t hear me when I said I’m going to do me—“
“It’s because you can’t do any—!”
“I’m sick of hearing all of you say this over and over again. Let’s just—let’s just stop, ‘lright? Give me a break for a minute,” Miles sighs heavily, finally deciding to turn his heels and his back at the others. He’s just so tired. “We still haven’t talked about how you,” he pans his index finger over Gwen, Peni, Peter, Noir, and Pork, but for some reason leaving the punk out of it, “didn’t do anything to help me with Miguel. I’m—“ he cuts himself. Another sigh, “Sorry. Just really not a good time to have a talk.”
And then Miles was gone, leaving a gloomy room behind.
The air drops cold, as cold sweat runs down from each one of the spiders. Guilt rushes over them, and the fact that they can’t do anything about Miles at the moment eats them whole.
Gwen sighs once more, obviously conflicted. That’s until she notices a missing spider that was just by the staircase. She blinks at the missing seat before looking at Pavitr.
“Where’s Hobie?”
“Well, wasn’t that something. Hm?”
Hobie shakes Miles’ shoulders from behind before proceeding to take a seat beside him on the huge boulder in front of a calm lake to make his presence acknowledged. They swung a bit far just to find some type of park in Earth 616, so now they ended up here.
Miles takes in some fresh air into his lungs, only to breathe it out a few seconds later. Hobie might as well say he deserves that. They gaze the lake together, watching the possibility of the moonlight being so beautiful on water.
“Why’d you have to follow me?” Miles inquires softly. He sounds so tired and worn out, so Hobie doesn’t take the soft tone like an affectionate gesture of the other. He picks some pebbles that have been sitting on the boulder for who knows how long or short.
Hobie looks at the small rocks on his palm, and somehow ends up counting them mentally. He holds three, then shrugs, looking back up. “Thought maybe you needed some protection from I dunno, kidnappers prolly.” Sarcastically and so unserious, Hobie replies. And it just became even worse when Miles got the inside joke in almost an instant.
“I’m fifteen.” He says suddenly.
“Yeah? Well, I’m sixteen, meaning I’m older. Meaning I can be your guardian.”
“You’re stupid, Hobie, that’s what you are.” Miles retorts softly, and Hobie chuckles quietly at the insult spout in a sort of sleepy voice.
“Fifteen.” Hobie finds himself mumbling, Miles’ age strangely sticking to his mind. He throws a pebble to the air and catches it. “Blud, you’re a kid.”
“You talk like you ain’t sixteen.”
“But, fifteen? Wow.” Hobie whistles, “That’s the prime of the teens, man.”
“What are you even saying.”
At this point, really, Hobie is just trying to make small talk. Maybe he wants Miles to feel better, this being a way of comforting him or whatever. Or maybe he wants Miles to talk about his struggles so he can help him in any way possible. Or maybe, it’s a mix of both.
Hobie finds what he said previously was ridiculous, so he chuckles again while ducking his head. He throws a pebble to the lake, said rock bouncing four times on a body of water. Miles watches it. He doesn’t say anything.
Somehow, the air between just the two of them isn’t anything heavy. In fact, it’s pretty peaceful even in the utter silence of time. Hobie can feel Miles slowly relax in his presence, and boy is he glad. Hobie, for sure, doesn’t want to have Miles snapping at him - that’s been in his mind as they swung on the way to the park. He was worried Miles might yell at him once he felt him following, but much to his surprise, Miles didn’t do anything even if he knew Hobie was just short behind him.
“Thanks, by the way.” Miles suddenly mutters, “For getting me out of there.”
Well, Hobie certainly wasn’t expecting that. He glances his way and keeps it casual. He fiddles with the pebbles in his hands, and after a beat, he finds himself scoffing with a small smile.
Miles’ eyebrows meet across again, but not because of Hobie. He seems to be in deep thought, recalling all the events that happened in the past days. It seems like he isn’t remembering a good one though.
He hasn’t said a thing yet, however here’s Hobie filling in his silence for him.
“You ain’t him. You know that right?”
And his statement really sounded like an answer to a circulating question in Miles’ head.
Miles’ eyes widen slightly, shifting to meet Hobie’s own pair. He might have hit the jackpot with that one, so he continues, “If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout stupid bosh like that, I suggest to just stop.”
And that was Miles did. For a while at least, he sat in complete silence. Utterly peaceful, and Hobie isn’t so sure whether to be glad about it or alarmed. He decides when Miles speaks up again.
“I should’ve been, though.” It was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible, but since everything around them is so incredibly still with only the soft rustles of wind grazing the trees’ leaves and the meek waves of the lake; Hobie still heard Miles’ voice nonetheless.
And he didn’t like it.
Hobie stares. At how Miles’ frown never left since the moment they dipped Peter’s house, and how his eyebrows never uncrossed. It’s not a good look on the boy, is one way to place it. Hobie prefers to see him annoyed by his poorly told jokes or by his teasing nature. Hobie prefers to see him smile, he figures too. He barely has ever seen Miles smile before.
He throws another pebble to the lake. It bounces, three times, “It was meant to happen.” Hobie says.
“It was a mistake.”
“Things happen for a reason, and it ain’t always for the worse.”
And Miles scoffs, looking the other way to shake his head. It’s another headache talking to Hobie, that’s for sure, but Miles somehow always end up being here with him. He doesn’t do anything to get away either, anyway, no matter how much he says he hates having the punk around.
“You don’t get it.” Miles mumbles. And maybe Hobie really doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to get it. He doesn’t want to understand what’s the difference between the rights and the wrongs, because all he wants is for Miles to feel better. If Miles is tired of having people tell him how to live his life, then so is Hobie. If there’s going to be hundreds of people telling Miles to charge into his fate head first, then Hobie will be the one and only person who’ll prevent him from doing so.
To Hobie, he agrees with Miles. He sides with him. Because if he knows and understands one thing, it’s that rules and laws are hard to live up with.
When did it ever became so hard to breathe in this time and age? Miles is merely fifteen, and making decisions shouldn’t be as complicated as this for a kid like him. For kids like them.
“C’mere,” tells, Hobie, after what felt like forever. Miles glances back at him, and the crease between his eyebrows seem to soften even just a little. Now, he just looks broken with his walls down. Just like a puppy in the rain with no shelter. “Your bandage’s loose.”
He stands hesitantly, walking over to Hobie’s boulder on timid steps. When he stopped, Hobie instantly grabs for the gauze around the big wound on his shoulder. He oughts to wrap it correctly for him. MJ couldn’t finish bandaging him up when he suddenly stood, so it bothered Hobie. Worried Miles will bleed again.
“…Thanks.”
And Hobie laughs quietly, a rough texture low in his throat. He ties it silently. Bunny ears. Over, under, around and through. The trees whistle, and Miles isn’t so sure how to cope with the fact that the Hobie Brown ties knots using the infamous bunny ears technique, but he did an amazing job at hiding how it embedded itself in his mind. Miles is disturbed in his head when Hobie’s voice pulls him back out of his raging thoughts.
“Try not to think about it too much, yeah? You’re not the Prowler, Miles—he might have the same face and name as you, but he ain’t you.” Hobie finishes the knot, and proceeds to look up at the standing teen, who can visibly see how hard he’s trying to comfort him - even if he’s not used to shit like this and has no complete idea of what the hell he’s saying. “You’re different.”
“I’m a mistake.” Miles fights weakly.
“You’re the one and only Spider-Man your Brooklyn’s got, man, what you on?” And despite the gentle aggression, Hobie proceeds to encourage Miles in a soft yet scratchy tone.
“Yeah, because the original one of my Brooklyn died, Hobie.”
But, Hobie can also be persistent. “Okay, and? You’re the better one.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“That means something to me, Miles.”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Miles exhales loudly, frustrated, really not having a fucking clue where this conversation is going anymore but he’s sure he doesn’t want to be stuck in a loop hole with this stubborn punk any longer than it already has been.
Their eyes lock, deep, and Hobie has this look on his face that conveys the message that he’ll always be listening at the other end - but will say shit without second thought if Miles attempts to bring himself down again. In short, the moonlight reflects really nice on Hobie’s eyes.
“Accidents can happen too, Hobie.” In a defeated whisper, Miles tells him.
“Yeah, but you aren’t one.”
That one hits right home.
Miles’ heart strings tug for a split second dangerously, and honestly, what can he say to that? It sounded sweet on Hobie’s tongue - genuine, even, and Miles hates it. Out of so many voices telling him that he shouldn’t have been a spider, that he was only a mistake, an accident, an interference in the lab, and the one who was the cause of the big disaster, Hobie keeps on insisting otherwise.
What did Miles ever do for Hobie to believe in him so much?
He didn’t asked for this. He didn’t beg on his knees for him to stand and side with him, but Hobie does anyway, all on his own will.
It breaks Miles’ fragile soul.
In a good way, he guesses.
Hobie hums, deciding his triumph in Miles’ silence. He wins the argument, so he grabs for his thin wrist and tugs gently, “Now that you understand, sit down over here, will ya?”
Miles does. Down beside him on the boulder, and it makes Hobie chuckle for no reason.
They face the lake and stars and moon altogether in beautiful tranquility. Hobie still has enough to say to disturb it all, though. And Miles too.
“Still on about saving your dad?” Hobie asks, which was very dumb, glancing towards Miles with his lidded eyes and a half smile.
“Really? You’re seriously asking that?” Miles huffs, a small smile on his face too, taking the hint that Hobie made it stupid on purpose. “Of course I am, man.”
“Good.” Hobie replies, nodding. This time, he’s actually serious. Miles looks at him when he feels his warm hand place itself on his shoulder. “Don’t ever let anyone change your mind about something, yeah? Even if the whole world disagrees with you, you fight for what you think is right, hm?” He’s using that tone - the tone when he wants his words to really get inside someone’s head up to the point one will remember for a long time. For Miles to actually listen to what he’s saying, and that, Miles is doing.
Hobie removes his hand, looks ahead again, and says: “And about that Prowler, we’ll be dealing with that too, so just try an’ breathe for now. Aight fam?” Now, his tone was a bit shy. Miles can notice the smallest of things like Hobie looking down with a small pout on his lips as he spoke, poking at the pebbles he still held with his other hand. Miles wanted to chuckle, but suppressed it behind a quiet smile. “Get a rest for tonight. I say, well deserved, innit?”
“You’ve been trynna cheer me up for some time now and you expect me to not notice it, don’t you?” Miles chuckles, actually for real this time. And only laughs more when he sees how flushed Hobie’s ears got.
“Something funny, Morales?” Hobie smirks, slightly nudging the other boy’s shoulder with his elbow, “Well, I think I’m doing a pretty good job, no?”
“No, yeah, you really have me in tears right now.” Miles replies sarcastically, his laughter dying down but his smile still on surface.
Finally, a bloody smile outta ya, Hobie thinks to himself as he watches Miles from the corner of his eyes with such fondness he doesn’t even notice himself. He throws his last pebble on the lake again, however this time, it only drops. They fall into another silence like how the pebble became one with the lake. It’s just for a while, but through those short minutes, they took in each other’s presence and realize that this might be the most peaceful night they’ve ever sat on after such a long time.
“Hey.”
Miles hums.
“You’re talking to me quite fine, ain’t you?” Hobie notices, glancing back at Miles after recalling what he said back in Peter B’s house. He wasn’t supposed to talk to anybody tonight, but he talked to Hobie, so that’s something. He barely ever snapped at him too, so that’s another thing.
Miles’ eyebrows lift momentarily upon the realization. Oh. Yeah. He shouldn’t be talking to Hobie. He should’ve snapped at him the moment he knew he was getting followed, but he didn’t do that.
Huh.
Odd.
He shrugs his shoulders, the tip of his ears glowing a faint pink that he continues to deny in his head and hope Hobie doesn’t notice. Hobie does. It makes his heart skip a beat. For uh, no real reason.
“I don’t know.” Miles says, staring into Hobie’s eyes. Then he melts into a smile, and Hobie wants to keep replaying that image in his head, but then Miles turns away. He breathes in when the wind blows, his afro slightly flowing backwards. Hobie’s wicks get combed back too, but somehow, he can’t look away from Miles.
“Maybe it’s because you aren’t so bad to talk to.” The younger continues sincerely. He takes a peek at Hobie’s face, only for the pinkness on his ears go down to his darkened cheeks.
Hobie smiles softly at him, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” And Miles replies. “You’re the only one who didn’t even try to stop me back at the HQ.”
“Yeah,” Hobie hunches and agrees, arms on his knees. He leans close to Miles, enough for his shoulder to bump at Miles’ arm, “‘cause it wouldn’t change a thing even if I was or wasn’t there, Miles.”
The way Hobie talks to Miles is so.. soft. Hobie is not a soft spoken person, that’s a solid fact, but Miles is only finding out right now that he can be.
“You didn’t help in the chase ‘cause you helped me free.”
“True,” Hobie shrugs, “It’s ‘cause I trust ya.”
“You sure there’s nothing else than just trust, man?”
Oh.
Hobie gets startled by the question, slightly lifting himself up from his hunched position but not exactly sitting back up. He looks at Miles with widened eyes and a drumming heart. He blushes. He hopes Miles doesn’t notice. Miles does.
“Oh. Uh,” Hobie croaks. “Friendship?”
And it has Miles laughing. It wasn’t exactly the answer Miles was looking for, but what exactly is the answer he’s looking for? He doesn’t completely understand, and so does Hobie, but it’s so obvious to the both of them that something in the air between them changed. Maybe they’ll figure it out someday, or maybe not. It’s all up to time.
All Hobie knew now is that he’s glad to see that he made Miles feel better even just a little. And Miles too, he’s glad he talked to Hobie.
They’re glad they have one another, then yet of course, they both don’t understand that quite yet.
“Does that guitar even work?” Then Miles is suddenly asking, poking a finger at the base of Hobie’s electric guitar.
“Why do you think it has strings for, bud?”