To keep you- Miguel O'Hara/Peter B Parker

At home again

Tbh idk what to say about this one, but enjoy!

________________________________________________________________________________

In complete honesty, it probably wasn't the best thing to have left Miguel alone to his own devices. As soon as Peter had left, he began to eye his rapture again. He ran a solitary finger over the gun, contemplating using it. In the end, he luckily decided not to. If he did now, Gabriella would sense something was off. But that didn't keep him from stuffing a few viles in a bag to take home with him at the end of the day. He was a wreck and he knew it. He just didn't know how to deal with it. Miguel was too stubborn of a man to let others help him. Especially when he felt it would be a burden on them and this, this was certainly one of those times. The idea of someone being worried about him scared him. His whole growing up he was constantly forced to avoid doing anything that could've possibly involved his mother or by all odds, his father, paying any mind to him. Instead, he had focused all of his attention on his little brother Gabriel and keeping him safe. Miguel's father was a cold harsh man. He would hit and he would yell.

Miguel remembered all those stuffy nights where he would let Gabriel sleep with him while keeping a protective arm around him. Keeping him from any harm. Keeping Miguel from losing him. Keeping him from his father. Of course, there were many times where Miguel was not spared the wrath of the malicious man. He recalled vividly howling in pain on many accounts during the startling abuse he endured amidst his childhood. And of course, the man who abused him growing up happened to not be his father. He happened to not even be related to him at all. His father was in fact the man who had got him hooked on the drugs. He resented his mother for never telling him. He was angry. Angry with her, with George his fake father, angry with Tyler Stone his real dad, and angry with Nueva York and how distant and selfish everyone was. The people of Nueva York seemed to think with a mindset of "putting oneself first" forgetting the fact that it meant someone had to be second. That was one of the reasons why Miguel didn't have a child of his own in 2099. He couldn't do it if he couldn't have a loving relationship. If it was always going to be every man for themselves.

Back to the present, Miguel powered off the screens and began his slow descent from the platform. He had a sudden splitting headache. He groaned, bringing his fingers to once again pinch the bridge between his nose. Yet, in typical Miguel fashion, he ignored it.

Miguel ended up deciding to walk home because he was beginning to feel like he didn't have it in him to claw his way across the buildings even though he knew it would be much quicker. He supposed that's what he got for not sleeping in two days. Straight. Little water, no food.

As soon as he stepped off the platform he felt his legs become mighty unhappy with him, his knees began to buckle before he caught himself on the table next to him. The one Peter B had conveniently left an empanada on. Miguel looked at the box holding the savory treasure.

It didn't appeal to him.

Miguel let go of the table and peeled his eyes from the empanada and cautiously made his way to the door. He shifted the tote bag he was carrying, holding the rapture, up onto his arm and using his other to discreetly cover the top of it so no other pesky Spider-Man would look inside. His mind was fuzzy and his eyes were grandly unhappy with him. He walked through the doors out into the bright HQ and groaned. His eyes, like much of himself, were very sensitive to light. Lucky him. His eyes were sensitive, his ears heard everything all at once, and even the touch of others felt stronger for him than it would've for anyone else.

Miguel's walk home was long and painfully exhausting. He needed sleep but how he was going to get it was beyond him. Without his Peter he knew he was going to be stuck struggling to sleep again. His insomnia ran rampant without having Peter's loving touch to keep him asleep. This alluded to how he wasn't able to sleep for the past few days for more than an hour or two.

At multiple points during his walk home he had to stop and sit on a near by bench or lean on a lamppost because of how drained he was. The world spun around him and his eyes were never focused. Passersby probably thought he was a drunk which he did not appreciate.

Nueva York was unfortunately a city of sun which also did not help Miguel's vision. He liked the warmth of the sun. It felt nice on his skin but the light that came with it was major let down in Miguel's mind.

Miguel finally managed to stumble home, an hour later than he would have expected to if he was fine. Or at least as fine as he could be.

He raised a tired hand to the knob and opened it.

"Miguel! You finally made it! We were beginning to worry!" Peter B stood in the doorway with arms outstretched waiting for a hug from Miguel.

That was not in fact what he got. Miguel shouldered his arm out of the way with a low grunt and a sneered lip and yanked off his shoes, throwing them haphazardly in the corner with little care for neatness.

"Alright, well Gabriella outback playing with a soccer ball just to let you know." Peter's voice was quieter than before. He had picked up pretty quickly on Miguel's unsavory behavior and for the first time in forever he actually read the room.

"I'm staying the night." The words were out of Peters mouth before even he could process them.

________________________________________________________________________________

Awwww silly Pete HOWS MIGUEL GONNA REACT?!!?!?

Cya soon!