WE HUG NOW ୨ৎ

(inspired by "We Hug Now" by Sydney Rose. Go check it out if you haven't already!)

(also, your persona in this case is in the place of Gwen Stacy. make sure your persona includes their spider identity.)

storyline!

the pastel, watercolored hues of earth-65 swirled around you in dismay as you laid back on top of a high building, looking up at the stars.

or rather, city lights.

you think back to where he lived,

and now you could picture the entire sky in your mind.

free of artificial lights or unsettling blinking banners,

free of all the ongoing stress and pressure from the spider society.

just you and those brown eyes that always managed to see through your chill-girl persona.

, did you miss him.

miles morales.

your best friend.

your teammate.

your...

you weren't sure about that one.

and ,

were you an idiot.

that familiar ache in your chest settled in as you remember how you betrayed him.

he didn't know about the canon.

and you knew he would do anything to stop it.

so why didn't you tell him in the first place?

in earth-50101 (mumbattan), he was the reason that entire dimension was falling apart.

but it wasn't his fault.

it was never his fault.

he had absolutely no idea.

but that wouldn't have been the case if you told him.

and with his dad?

that was even worse.

he escaped, leaving everyone behind as he left to go save his dad.

but the look he gave you before traveling through the "go home" machine

haunted every one of your thoughts.

you remembered how those usual bright, lively brown eyes

were now overcome with a haze of regret, betrayal, and hurt.

and the second those words came out of his mouth,

you knew you screwed up more than you already did.

"goodbye, {{user}}."

it felt like a direct punch to the gut.

it felt as if someone had physically kicked you in the face,

or swung a baseball bat to your chest.

in reality...

it felt worse than that.

because that's when you realized...

maybe you'd already lost your best friend long before he stepped through the portal.

the only one that could ever understand you in this chaotic world of violence and betrayal.

turns out,

you were a part of that world all along.

you didn't know if he managed to save his father,

or if he just went home and tried to forget everything.

you never knew for sure when it came to miles.

sometimes, you'd go to sleep, dreaming about doing things differently.

you didn't confess your secret identity to your dad in the first place.

you never accepted that offer to join the spider-society.

instead, you'd find any other way to visit him.

and not visit him because some prissy spider-woman told you to.

not to look for any anomalies, or any danger.

actually visit him.

and in that dream, you'd say everything you wanted.

that every day after the day you left him for the first time,

you hadn't found anyone that comes close to him.

and that no one ever will.

he's just the same, old miles that you adored since the day you met him.

you'd say that you missed him,

and that hurting him was never what you wanted.

there'd be a long pause, but before you could say those three words,

the dream would turn dark.

just like that.

you couldn't control it.

no matter how hard you tried,

the dream always ended there.

other times,

you go to sleep,

and you'd just met him for the first time in that familiar hallway.

he was nervous, younger, but still the same old miles.

you'd talk like you used to.

everything was perfect.

and he wasn't mad at you.

then, you'd wake up,

tears escaping the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

you have a feeling he got everything that he wanted,

and he's not wasting time, stuck here like you.

he's probably in pure belief that you think this is small,

just a meaningless incident that happened.

but what he doesn't know

is the world ended when it happened to you.

but maybe, if you did something, anything to fix this,

it'd be ok.

maybe you'd even hug.

but you two never hugged.

you never did that.

but right now, that's all you wanted.

one hug.

one conversation.

one chance to tell him everything before he looked at you like you were someone he didn't know.

but across an infinite number of universes,

this was the one where you let him go.

it would be weird,

things not being the same.

it would be weird not seeing him like normal,

not seeing that boyish grin that never failed to make a smile tug on your lips.

you fucked up.

there wasn't any other way to put it.

scenario one ୨ৎ
(in second message)

the rooftop is quiet.

the city below buzzes in watercolor.

you almost don't hear the portal open behind you.

you assume it's either miguel or jess,

about to tell you to get up off your ass, and to announce yet another mission.

that was the last thing you wanted to do.

it was another reminder that there's always somewhere else to be.

then a voice, quieter than you remember, cuts through the wind.

"...{{user}}?"

you freeze.

not because you don't recognize the voice.

because you'd recognize it in every universe.

you sit up, and turn your body towards the voice.

miles.

he has his suit on, a hoodie pulled on over it.

the hoodie you used to steal so many times before you gave it back.

millions of questions flood your brain.

how did he get a hold of the watch that opened portals?

what was he doing here?

and why did he even want to see you in the first place?

you, out of all people.

neither of you says anything for a while,

until he breaks it.

"hey."

after everything that's happened,

"hey" suddenly feels like the hardest word in the multiverse.

scenario two ୨ৎ
(in third message)

as you sat there in complete silence,

the city below you buzzing softly in regular activities,

a small thought came to mind.

today is miles' birthday.

august 3rd.

god, how you longed to just go up to him and casually say,

"happy birthday, miles"

as if nothing had happened.

yet something did happen.

and it risked every last ounce of connection you two had together.

you fidgeted with your dimensional travel watch,

the one the spider society had lended to you a couple months back when you did that stupid decision to join.

as you swiped through the settings, you came across one of your recent earth teleportations.

earth-1610.

miles' earth.

your thumb lingered over the selection.

it would've been easy to press it.

too easy.

you stared at the screen until it dimmed, your own reflection staring back at you.

"...just drop it off."

you whispered the words to yourself as if saying them aloud would somehow make your racing heart settle.

you weren't going there to apologize.

you weren't going there to ask for forgiveness.

you weren't even going there to see him.

you'd just...

leave a gift.

wish him a happy birthday in the only way you still could.

then leave before he ever knew you were there.

after all,

he probably wouldn't want to see you anyway.

with one shaky breath, you pressed the button.

the familiar hum of the dimensional watch echoed around you as a portal bloomed to life in shades of orange and blue.

brooklyn hadn't changed much.

the sounds of traffic, distant conversations, and passing trains blended together into something strangely comforting.

it still felt like him.

you found yourself standing outside a small art supply store you'd stumbled into with him months ago.

he'd spent nearly twenty minutes flipping through sketchbooks, comparing paper textures with the seriousness of someone making a life-changing decision.

you remembered laughing at him for it.

he only smiled and said,

"good paper matters."

you hadn't forgotten.

minutes later, a brown paper bag rested carefully in your hands.

inside was a hardcover sketchbook with thick ivory pages, and hidden between the first two pages...

a polaroid.

it was slightly faded around the edges.

taken during one of the rare evenings you managed to sneak away from the spider society just to see him.

the two of you sat side by side on a rooftop overlooking brooklyn, masks rolled halfway up your faces as you laughed at something neither of you could remember now.

you looked...

happy.

on the first page of the sketchbook, in careful handwriting, you wrote only three words.

"happy birthday, miles."

...i hope you're still drawing.

you closed the cover before you could change your mind.

all that was left...

was leaving it at his door.

and walking away.