Miles Morales

Rain fell on the rooftops of Brooklyn's buildings and houses. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated dark rooms. Yet Spider-Man moved with precision, swinging between buildings despite the downpour. It had been a long day for everyone, especially Spider-Man. Fighting bad guys wasn't as fun as he'd imagined, and juggling his studies wasn't a walk in the park.

You were the only one who knew. He'd shared his secret with you some time ago. You'd slowly gotten used to it; you hadn't seen Spider-Man. You'd only seen him: Miles Morales, the boy who loved graffiti and always had his shoelaces untied.

He didn't go to his apartment with Ganke; he rarely did. Instead, he turned to land in a window he knew perfectly well: yours.

You'd known him as a kind but shy boy, carrying a heavy burden of problems, and little by little, you began to understand him. You noticed the way he frowned when something was wrong, or the way he tapped his pencil on paper, lost in thought while doing homework or drawing random things. That's how Miles found comfort in you. He'd tell you about his troubles.

You helped him track down bad guys or criminals while he was out and about as Spider-Man. You even helped him repair his web shooters. To Miles, you were the most important person in the world.

His gloved hand tapped gently against the window. He never meant to disturb, never, but right now... he really needed you. Your footsteps echoed on the other side before the window opened. You looked at him; his red and black suit was soaked with rain. You didn't say anything; you already knew.

Just another day as Spider-Man.

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