SPIDER-MAN IMAGINES

Not Okay | Miles Morales [SM]

I'm not really in the mood for writing today but needed to get something out so here this is

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It was for the best that you just didn't talk about how you were feeling.

You'd already made that decision. It wasn't difficult to make it; it was your instinct, anyway. You wanted to hide how you were from your friends. 

What was hard was dealing with the slow realization that followed. The realization that no matter how your texts changed, or how your voice sounded, or how off your smile was - no one noticed that you were not okay.

Miles didn't even notice.

You noticed when he wasn't okay. It didn't take you long at all to pick it out, and when you did, you would help him until he was your smiling best friend. But maybe that was just a you thing, because he never even noticed how different you were acting.

After the last class of the day on Friday, Miles was walking home with you. You had your heavy backpack on and he was humming a song, kicking a pebble as he shuffled his feet.

"So you wanna come web-swinging with me today?" 

"Uh, no, I'm okay," you said.

"Well why not? You love when I take you out!"

"Not tonight, Miles. Sorry." You kept your eyes on your shoes. There was a streak of dirt across the top of your black boot. It bothered you to look at it. 

"I didn't make you sick last time, did I? I'm telling you, I really didn't mean to do a back flip, honest. I forgot you were on my back!"

"No, it's not that," you told him. 

"It's not?" he asked.

"No."

"Oh. You, uh... got another headache?" he asked, knowing that you often got migraines.

"No," you said. "I'm just tired."

"Oh." He stopped kicking the pebble and moved his hands up to hook his thumbs in the straps of his backpack. He sighed long. "I'm tired, too. They really didn't cut us any slack with homework this week, did they?"

"Nope." There you go; you got him to change the subject. It was both a relief and a stab in your heart. 

He shook his head. "I hate this stupid school. What I hate most is that stupid Chemistry class. I'm sure I'd love Chem, but that teacher, man. He really doesn't care about anybody."

"They're just teachers, Miles," you said. "Their jobs aren't to care about us."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I just have a hard time respecting teachers that don't take care of their students. Like, if you're gonna punish someone for not being to attend class because they're sick, then there's something wrong with you, man." He shook his head. "Like this one time, I was in seventh grade, right? And I literally puked in class. Right in front of my teacher. She saw it and everything. And then I went home from school and had to stay away for the rest of the week. It was only three days, but still. When I got back, I had a lunch detention because I missed one more than the allotted times we could be absent. And my teacher knew that it was physically impossible for me to go to class any of those days. Isn't that crazy?"

"That is crazy," you agreed, "but completely believable. Teachers are teachers, like I said. You can't expect everyone to care about you enough." Your heart squeezed a little.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. He sighed. "Anyway, what were we talking about before?"

You shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," he decided. "Oh, yeah. So I know that you don't want to go web-slinging with me... which might be a good thing, 'cause I'm trying to hunt down Kingpin again. But maybe on Sunday you and I can hang out? Get a pizza or something?"

You were in front of your house now, so you slowed your steps. Dragging the toe of your boot against the frost-covered sidewalk, you looked at Miles. "Uh, I don't know... I'll see, okay?"

"Okay?" He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "Is... everything okay? You're acting a little weird."

It's better if you just don't say anything at all.

No one wants to hear what you have to say.

He won't want to help. You're just holding him back. You're bothering him. You've already said too much. Just pretend you're okay now. Just pretend.

"Fine," you answered. "I'm... I'm fine." You hopped up on your porch step. "I'll text you and tell you if I'm available or not, okay?"

"Okay," Miles muttered. He didn't really know why you wouldn't be available. It wasn't like you had other friends besides him and Ganke, really. "I'll talk to you later then."

"Yup." You dug the house key that you kept in the side pocket of your backpack. Shoving it in the lock, you glanced behind you and saw Miles slowly shuffling down the sidewalk, alone now.

You pressed your lips together into a tight, thin line. 

"Miles," you called out. He turned around. "Miles, wait up."

You hurried down the three porch steps and then to him. You stood there for a second, staring at his dark brown eyes. He looked confused. Not concerned, not worried, not scared - just confused.

You sighed, shutting yourself up again.

And you stepped forward, putting your arms around his thin body. 

And you just hugged your best friend.

It was short and you didn't squeeze him too tight, but even with the small hug you gave him, there were tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat that you were desperate to hide. You pulled back, squeezed the tops of his arms, then stepped back.

"I'll message you, Miles," you said. 

He nodded. "Uh - y-yeah, okay."

You nodded back. "Have fun and stay safe tonight, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

Deep inside (or maybe not too deep inside), you hoped that he could feel what you were feeling through the hug that you gave him. And maybe it was stupid, or childish, or annoying - whatever. You didn't care. But if they could just see that you weren't really okay, then things would have a chance at being okay. If he could see that you really needed him but were too scared and hurt to admit it... then everything would be fixed. Everything.

(Right?)

But you weren't about to let yourself get your hopes up for that.