Work Text:
It's always hard to admit that something you're doing is harmful, isn't it?
Miles Morales was never the type of person to admit they needed help. Is it a problem? Most likely, yes, but hey! Can you blame the guy? With the strict parenting style that most POC parents uphold, he's always had this nagging fear of asking for something from anyone. Constantly feeling as if he was a bother or a burden, even if it was something as small as asking his classmate for a pencil. Living in a constant state of believing that if someone helped him, then he was to do something for them in return. It never mattered how big or small the issue was; Miles always found a way to deal with his problems independently, especially after Uncle Aaron died. Uncle Aaron was the only person who Miles felt truly understood him; someone would help him no matter the ask. Losing his uncle meant losing that security, and don't get him wrong, Miles loves and trusts his parents, but sometimes talking to them feels like talking to a steel-reinforced brick wall.
It only got worse when he fully became Spiderman.
Miles truly regrets complaining about the trivial things in life before being bitten. It was a tortuous feeling, having the world's weight on your shoulders at Miles's age. Knowing that he didn't have anyone who truly understood the hardships he faced every day, trying to balance his everyday life and his hero's life. No one could console him when he feels like he's failing everyone, when he believes he's not enough and wants nothing more than to fall out of existence.
He was alone for so long, getting to a point where the wooden box that held his true emotions was beginning to crack. Its splinters poking at his heart, threatening to make him throw up everything he’s hiding with one stab. He didn’t know how to ask for help, because how do you ask for help when no one around you could even begin to fathom the pain building within you? Miles had become content living this way, stagnant in this never-ending sea of highs and lows.
Then the Spot showed up.
Then Gwen showed up.
Then all of a sudden he was flying through dimensions, landing in a world foreign to him.
Then he met Hobie Brown, the resident Spiderman of Earth-138.
And suddenly his life was changed, again.
Hobie was…well, a lot at first. The anarchist was loud and proud of his beliefs. He was someone whose existence alone was resistance in and of itself. Hobie was an insurgent, a character built around empowering others even at their lowest point; and if you ask Miles? That right there was one of Hobie’s best qualities.
Hobie was scary to the New Yorker at first, and despite Miles being a bit of a rebel himself, the amount of rebellion etched into Hobie’s being was something that Miles had never seen before. At first, he held disdain for the spider because he had assumed Hobie was after Gwen the same way he used to be, but after the anarchist urged (even if it was just a tiny gesture) for Miles to go against the Spider Society, everything Miles assumed about him changed in an instant. It was shocking, watching Hobie help him escape Miguel's trap and becoming the reason Gwen could save Miles from his counterpart's dimension, even if Miles and Milo had agreed that they should help one another by the time they had reached him. Two sides of the same coin type of agreement, you know?
After defeating the Spot, saving his dad, and getting the Spider Society off his back, Hobie slowly became a part of Miles' everyday life. Hobie was the shoulder Miles cried on once he finally had time to process how Peter and Gwen had betrayed him. Hobie was the one who stood by him, a hand on his shoulder as he asked Gwen for space. Hobie was the one who made Miles his own watch and later showed Miles his chaotic yet beautiful home in New London. And even if it took him a few months to admit it, Hobie was the one who made Miles realize that he liked guys and very much liked Hobie. Suddenly, it was Hobie filling his sketchbooks and becoming Miles' favorite thing to doodle on his schoolwork.
It still surprises him now that Miles was the one who made the first move. It was Miles who kissed Hobie as they sat at the same clock tower that Miles had taken Gwen to months prior. Miles asked if they could be boyfriends a week later, to which the punk replied, "I know I ‘ate labels, but ‘m willing to break ‘hat ideal jus’ for you."
It was initially terrifying, feeling so strongly about someone that it feels like it's constantly spilling into your soul. Hobie was always there in the back of his mind, providing a sense of peace that Miles had no idea was attainable. Slowly becoming so etched into his daily routine that even waking up without the punk next to him makes his heart feel a bit heavier. To all of a sudden have someone take up your every thought and want to care for them so badly that you spend days researching how to take care of wicks. Miles wanted to be everything that Hobie needed and vice versa.
But some things are easier said than done, aren't they?
Miles is still that kid who doesn't ask for help after all. He's still afraid to admit when he can't do something by himself. Miles hasn't seen himself the same after everything with Spot and Miguel. It's hard to look in the mirror and think highly of yourself after the multiverse tells you that you were a mistake. Living for a year thinking that you're all alone only to find out those you trusted had the ability to be at your side places a weight on one's soul that still hasn't left Miles. Sure, he's forgiven them and, at the least, will stand in the same room as Miguel, but an ache like that lingers for much longer than most believe.
Miles Morales was only 16 and was scarred in and out. Hobie knew of the hurt that found its home within Miles, but there was something else that he was still hiding. Afraid once again of the consequences, fearful that these scars would push away one of his remaining lifelines. Miles knows that getting scars from battles as Spiderman is inevitable, but the ones he had were different.
Miles was different.
He hadn’t even meant to let Hobie see the scars littered across his body. But the universe had to get its revenge for Miles saving his dad somehow, right?
They had been hanging out in the younger's room after a long day of working on the hidden mural that was so dear to Miles' heart. Hobie was the only other person to have ever seen the creative space; Miles wanted to show the others one day, but the process of regaining Miles' trust was still in the works. Miles primarily worked on adding the punk to the mural as Hobie sat behind him, strumming his guitar and watching Miles with a smile so big, you would think Miles was creating the Sistine Chapel. Everything had been fine, perfect even, as they laid next to each other, the sounds of Tyler the Creator playing softly in the background. But then Miles announced that it was getting hot in his room, and the only way for him to allow his boyfriend to keep cuddling him was if he changed into lighter clothes.
"You don't like my warmth, Sunflower?" Hobie whispers as he presses a light kiss to Miles' forehead; a lazy attempt to keep Miles in bed.
"I do Hobs', but you know I don't like being sweaty."
Ignoring the string of mumbled complaints that left Hobie as Miles pulled himself out of Hobie's arms, Miles walked across the room to his dresser, picking up stray paint cans and setting them on his desk as he moved. "You want me to grab your house clothes while I'm over here?"
"If you don' mind, treacle." Miles grabbed a pair of Hobie's shorts and a tank top, throwing it at him before pulling out his own clothes.
Hobie couldn't help but watch the afro-latino as he began to take off the long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants he was adorning, both covered in flecks of paint from their previous painting session. Hobie couldn't draw for shit, but nothing made him happier than watching his sunflower fill his sketchbooks and canvases with breathtaking works of art. Miles had started talking as he took off his shirt, but everything leaving the boy's mouth became muffled after the shirt had fully come off of Miles.
Hobie could only stare in shock, a swirling storm of sadness, worry, and anger forming deep in his chest. Streaks of scars covered the entirety of Miles's upper body like old paint on a canvas. The tone of the lighter-colored scars looked akin to lightning, which only created more questions within the Brit's head because the last time he checked, his boyfriend had never been struck by lightning. The lines didn't stop at the younger's chest either, reaching far past his abdomen, breaking into smaller rivers that danced and screamed across his legs. Some spots were worse than others, the faint memory of a different scar looming under the thick lines that coated Miles' dark skin.
Hobie himself had his own array of scars; every spider-person did. It was one of the things that genuinely connected all of them together. But this?
This was extreme.
"-and I was thinking about starting a new piece somewhere else, but I'm not sure where yet. I'm not abandoning what's in the old station; I just need something new to work on, and once I do that, I'm gonna-" Miles turned to see the bewildered look on Hobie's face, the boy's hue changing to muted blues and grays as the headlines that covered Hobie fiercely changed. 'Help him. Who did this? He's hurt, he's hurt, he's HURT-' Miles' own confusion becomes apparent as Hobie stands from the bed and makes his way towards Miles. "Hobs'? Is everything okay?"
"What 'appended?" Hobie's voice was hushed as if he was scared if he spoke any louder, someone might hear them. Hobie pulls Miles into his arms, his hands as light as a ghost as he traces the scarred skin on Miles' body, and suddenly Miles remembers why he never changes in front of his boyfriend. "Mí Tesoro, listen-"
"Who did this t' you? 'Cause I swear, 'll find them an' kill 'em-'' Miles grabs Hobie by the shoulders, making him stop his mumbling. Miles sighs before laying his head into the crook of Hobie's neck, knowing that if he didn't tell the truth now, then he never would. Besides, Miles knew Hobie didn't like liars, and Miles refused to let another relationship of his be ruined by secrets. "It was me."
"Wh-what?"
"I did this to myself. I-" Sensing the distress from the younger spider, Hobie moves them back to the bed, not questioning it when Miles looks away from him. "Miles?" Hobie grabs Miles' hand with both of his, noticing how cold his usually warm hands are. He brings Miles hands to his lips, pressing a kiss so light, that Miles almost started crying then and there. "You 'ave to talk to me, moppet. 'm not going to judge."
Silence falls over the two, the sounds of New York filtering in through the window, providing an extra sense of comfort as Miles gathers every ounce of courage in his chest. The music from Miles’ speaker had changed to SZA, specifically playing Ghost in the Machine, and Miles decided in that moment that the multiverse actually does hate him.
Why does this feel harder than fighting Miguel?
Although, most things felt harder after fighting Miguel and pretty much every Spiderman there is. It was becoming harder and harder for him to have to walk into HQ each week, as if everything was fucking normal and all butterflies and rainbows. This was different though, Miles could leave HQ, walk away from Miguel. He can’t walk away from this. He can’t leave this moment because Hobie deserves better than that.
A tired sigh leaves Miles as he focuses on Hobie’s hands covering his. The metal of the many rings that adorned Hobie’s hands twisted as Miles played with them and suddenly, he missed the feeling of the silver band that typically hung around his neck, given to him by Hobie after their first date (then later learned that it was Hobie's favorite ring).
He can do this.
He saved his father. He saved the multiverse, twice.
He can tell Hobie Brown the truth.
"After the whole collider fiasco, I was struggling on my own for a while. All of a sudden, I went from having people who understood me to having no one at all. It was fine at first. I started drawing more in an attempt to make myself feel better, and it worked for a while! But one night, after a rough battle, I got a pretty bad stab wound in the same place my uncle Aaron got shot. I got so lost in my head that I shocked myself without thinking. At first, I panicked, thinking that I caused more problems for myself, but after calming myself down, I realized that I had accidentally cauterized the wound."
Hobie stayed silent, only moving to pull Miles closer to him as he continued speaking.
"After that, I used my venom if I was bleeding badly enough for stitches. At first it didn’t scar, but the more I did it, the worse the damage was afterwards. I didn't want to worry my parents, and obviously, there was no way to explain why their son had a gunshot wound in his leg without telling them I'm Spiderman and Ganke is squeamish as hell when it comes to blood. Only option kind of thing, you know?"
Miles finally looks into the Brit's eyes, not missing the look of sympathy that danced in them. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out. I wanted to tell you. I promise you I did, but I was worried that you wouldn't want to be with someone this scarred."
Hobie's eyebrows scrunch together as he finally finds his voice again. "Luv' I haven' got a scooby doo what you mean by that."
"I mean, I'm not exactly the picture of pretty, am I?" Hobie's eyes comically widen at the statement, unbelieving what he just heard, but Miles cuts him off before he can rebuttal.
Miles stands and turns toward the mirror he keeps in his room. A sad chuckle leaves his mouth. "I haven't fully looked at myself in a while; I got lost trying to convince myself that I would just live the rest of my life wearing long-sleeved shirts." Another sad laugh leaves the afro-latino before he turns back to his boyfriend, shocked to see the silent tears running down Hobie's cheeks. "Oh hermoso, n-no llores, I'm okay, cariño." Miles stands between Hobie's legs and places his hands on Hobie's cheeks, gently wiping away the tears. "I'm fine, it's all okay."
“But you’re not okay, Miles.” Unsure of what else to say, and scared that he might say the wrong thing, Hobie does the next best thing. A small gasp leaves Miles as Hobie places tender kisses along Miles' chest, hoping sincerely that he could kiss away his love's pain. Each kiss added to the unspoken promise coursing through Hobie's veins. 'You don't have to be perfect for me. I want every part of you, the broken ones, the ones you kept hidden away, the ones you wish didn't exist, and the ones you hold out to the world with a smile. I'm not going anywhere because I'm fucking obsessed with you, and no amount of scars will ever stop me from giving you the praise you deserve.'
If only he knew how to say all that.
Hobie sits back a little, stopping his advances and taking a full look at Miles. Hobie hated this. He hates that the multiverse decided to give Miles such a shitty hand in life. It angers him that because Miguel didn’t want to admit his own faults, that Miles was left to believe that he had to figure out everything by himself. He knew deep down that some of the mentioned self esteem problems stemmed from that bullshit Miguel was spewing during their first encounter; and with that realization comes Hobie’s decision that he may just bash Miguel’s head in the next time he’s at HQ.Putting that decision away for later use, Hobie places a few more kisses on Miles’ scar before speaking. "Firstly, 'm proud that you shared that with me. Makes me happy you trust me enough to 'ell me. Secondly, I don't care what anyone says, but you'll always be lush in my book."
"Hobie, you don't have to-"
"No, darlin', there isn't anything across all these dimensions that could tear me away from you. These marks' ere only tell a story that deserves to be 'eard. I'll spend every bleedin' moment of my life tellin' ya how lovely you are until ya bloody believe me." Hobie cuts himself off by pressing another kiss into Miles's shoulder, praying to whatever God there is that Miles receives a break from the universe's constant hatred. "Alright, brooklyn boy'?"
"O-Okay."
The two stay in silence, allowing the weight of Miles' untitled confession to soften. Miles leaves their embrace momentarily, whispering to Hobie that he wants to put a shirt on, to which the older nods in understanding. Putting one of Hobie's old band tees on, allowing Hobie to make his own quick change before they both moved back to Miles' twin bed. Hobie lay against the wall, creating a space between his legs for the other spider to take refuge in, both boys becoming more aware of the unspoken promise to protect one another. Miles sits in front of the punk, taking Hobie’s face into his hands, rubbing the cold metal of his lip piercing as he speaks, "I don't know what I did to deserve you. You're like a dream come true despite me not knowing enough to dream of you. How did that happen? Who read my mind and knew exactly what I wanted, even though I didn't?"
"I reckon' I get what ya' playing at, Sunflower."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I was never exactly a relationship guy. Was proper chuffed just livin' a life full of one-offs and quick glances, but then you went and defied the damn universe of what it demanded." Hobie stops momentarily, his heart sitting high in his chest with anxiety. He didn't know if he was meant to share this much of himself with someone or if it was okay that he wanted to hand Miles his entire being and not care about the consequences. Still safe in Miles' warm hands, he looked into those same doe eyes that he'd fallen in-
Oh.
Oh my…
"Miles'm going to say something a bit daft, yeah?"
"I think crazy has become the norm for us, if I'm being honest, so by all means, go ahead." Hobie pulled Miles impossibly closer, one hand moving up Miles' shirt, rubbing across the myriad of scars on the other's back, the other at the nape of Miles's neck, playing with the tighter curls that lay there. Chocolate brown looked into caramel, and Hobie decided that if Miles dared to walk through life with all this pain, then Hobie could admit how he truly felt.
"I love you, an' I ain't just rabbitin', I'm proper gone on ya. I need you to know that. I don't give a damn what you look like, you could be all scarpered from 'ead to toe, and you'd still be my Sunflower. 'M sorry you felt like this was the only way, that 'urting yourself was the only solution to sort things out. But you don't 'ave to feel like that no more, right? You don't 'ave to love yourself every day 'cause no one on any earth does, but I'll be 'ere lovin' you on the days when you can't."
Miles could only stare as he felt tears well in his eyes. His heart was pounding, drunk with the love and adoration flooding from Hobie's being. Not able to contain his love for his British boy, Miles grabs Hobie by his shirt, bringing him in for a kiss, and Hobie responds by holding onto Miles with everything he has to offer. The two move into a more comfortable position, Hobie lying on the bed with Miles on top of him, each kiss shared between them, solidifying that they were it for each other. They were made from the same star, and even after those stars die out, the particles of their being will still intertwine with each other.
Miles pulls back, his hands laced between the punk's wicks, taking a mental note that tomorrow was going to be a detox day before putting his focus back onto the boy who just admitted that he loved him. "Say it again."
A smile spreads across both of their faces, contradicting the dried tear tracks.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Sunflower.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Miles Morales.”
”Te amo mucho, mi amor,”
“I’m hoping that means what I think it means?”
“It does, cariño.”
After one last kiss, Miles lays down onto Hobie’s chest, their hands interlaced and Miles decides he hasn’t felt this safe in a long time. Hobie returns back to his earlier task of playing with Miles curls, wondering to himself if Miles would ever let him braid it into cornrows or box braids.
“Treacle?”
“Hmm?”
“You know ‘ere gonna talk abou’ you ‘urting yourself come tomorrow?”
A tired sigh leaves Miles, yet Hobie knows it isn’t directed towards him. “Yeah, I know…Can’t we just lay here for now? Put on a movie as if we’re normal teenagers?”
Hobie looks at Miles with so much love, Miles thinks he may just die right there as Hobie leans down as presses a kiss to Miles’s shoulder. “Course we can, moppet. Anything in ‘ind?”
Miles’ smile widens, eyes lit up and Hobie decides that he would happily spend the rest of his life ensuring that Miles never felt alone again. No one with a smile this bright and a heart this big should go through this amount of pain. Miles Morales was a literal sunflower, and it’s utterly amazing that his petals have yet to wilt.
By the time Hobie refocuses his attention, the familiar sound of the Netflix logo playing through Miles’ laptop. “Okay so, there’s this movie called Wendell & Wild…”
They did talk the following day as promised, discussing Miles’ aforementioned self harm tendencies as Miles worked on cleaning and re-twisting Hobie’s wicks as if the topic was anywhere near a normal conversation to have. For Hobie’s peace of mind, Miles agreed that from that moment on, if Miles was badly hurt then he needed to immediately contact someone. It didn’t even have to be him who Miles called upon, but they both knew deep down that Hobie would always receive the first call.
For Miles’ peace of mind? Hobie had to promise (begrudgingly if he may add) to not smash Miguel’s head in with his guitar or any object for that matter.
‘’M just saying moppet, ‘erything would be much simpler if you let me have a chat ‘ith ‘im-‘
’Hobie I do not want to fight that 7 foot tall monster of mental health issues again-‘
With agreements made, Miles felt like a weight was taken off his shoulders. That he was free to breathe again and hope that maybe he’ll get back to being as confident with himself as he was before all of this. Before he was Spiderman, before he lost everyone, before he started hurting himself. His heart still aches for that boy, but with Hobie in his life, offering his heart to Miles on a silver platter, the ache was slowly losing its sting.
Miles Morales was still someone who didn't know how to ask for help, but maybe asking for help becomes much easier with someone you love standing next to you with a hand on your shoulder.