White & Red - Miles Morales Angst

Chapter 1

He couldn't even remember what had led him to this point; all he could focus on was the relief and ecstasy rushing through him. The slash on his arm burned enticingly, screaming at him to make more, to get more of the feeling. He absentmindedly made another gash, just craving more, more, more. But he got too carried away.

He stumbled around his room, his vision fuzzy as he sat up abruptly. Shaking it away, he took a tissue from his nightstand pressing it against his skin.

A flash.

What the hell was that? The last time that had happened, five separate dimensions collided with his. But the collider was gone now. So how was that possible?

Something started buzzing in his room. Before he knew it, he could feel himself being pulled upwards, gravity distorted, as flashes of different colors appeared around him. The tissue fell from his hand, and he watched as the blood running down his arm floated upwards, thickening in the air—static formed upon the ceiling, flashing together in various colors, mixing as they became one.
He could see someone else on the other side.
He quickly pulled his bedsheet over himself, covering his injuries.

"Miles? Got a minute?"

"How did you get- how did you-?"
Gwen suddenly pulled him in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, the blood gushing from his arm onto the bedsheet, staining her suit-
"Miles? Are you... bleeding?"
Her frantic voice snapped him out of his thoughts, her hand pulling his arm out from below the covers. He couldn't even look at her as she stared at it, shame painting his entire face, reality seeming to stop. There was no point in stopping it now. They know, they'll all know-

"I'm... let me patch you up, alright? Where's your first aid kit?"

She gently spoke, her voice calm and collected. Although it seemed a bit forced, Miles couldn't help but notice a slight waver to it, though he didn't know whether he had imagined it.

"In, uh, there. Bottom drawer."
He pointed to his dresser, his hand shaking slightly as he did so. Maybe some part of him wanted this despite all of his attempts to hide it. He wanted to be found out, comforted, and cared about. It made him sick to his stomach. Was he doing all of this for attention?
Gwen winced slightly as she opened the drawer, the inside littered with bloody tissues, bandaids, and unsanitized needles that had probably already been used for stitching accidental and intentional cuts.
She quickly took the kit out, not saying anything about what she'd just seen. They'd probably need to talk about proper medical care soon enough, although now was not the time.

She sat down next to Miles, who was fidgeting with his fingertips, his head hanging low, as she gently took his injured arm and started applying the disinfectant. The open gash had closed since then, thanks to his Spider-Healing, but he still needed medical care so it wouldn't get infected. he slightly hissed at the sting of the disinfectant, but it wasn't anything he was used to. This whole thing and being Spider-Man meant he got injured quite often, so pain was a familiar feeling.

Rubbing the disinfectant across the lines on his arm, she had one burning question running through her mind.

"Why, Miles?"

The question caught him off guard, but it is evident in hindsight. Nobody would see him do that and do nothing about it.

"I, uh, don't know."

She seemed unsatisfied by the answer but remained silent, a grim look on her face, not pushing it. Soon after, she set the disinfectant down, pulled out some bandages, and wrapped them around his arm. Once she was sure it was set correctly, she pulled away from him, an awkward silence settling between the two. Miles was the first to speak.