You gotta understand that some people never really grow. They never learn their lesson. They never recognise their mistakes, they never acknowledge their faults, they never admit they were in the wrong. You will never receive an apology from them, and you will never see their behaviour change.
if you’re in the notes saying “this is wrong and cruel because everyone is capable of growth” you’re not understanding the post.
yes, everyone is CAPABLE of growth and change. everyone has the RIGHT to growth and change. but no, not everyone will CHOOSE growth and change. some people are not interested in and cannot be made interested in self-improvement or self-reflection. some people will go their entire lives refusing to admit they might be wrong or examine their own behaviors. some people will never, ever accept responsibility for the effects they have on people and the world around them. humans are varied; some are just always gonna be like this.
it is VITAL to understand this if you’re the kind of person who tends to pour energy into helping others, especially if there are already people knowingly hurting you who consistently show absolutely no interest in changing that behavior. you can’t forcibly make them want to change who they are. you aren’t going to find a way to convince them to suddenly care that their behavior is hurting someone.
the motivation to change and grow comes from within. others may inspire us, but WE have to decide we want to be better and work towards that. until they decide that for themselves, nobody else can do it for them. and they might never. people are mortal. we are a finite series of choices. it is entirely possible to make mostly selfish ones.
everyone CAN grow, but not everyone will. not everyone wants to, and nobody can force the desire to grow as a person on someone else.
some people don’t deserve fanfics, much less for free.
also even if authors didn’t tag any specific warnings but they used the “creator chose not to use archive warnings” tag, then that is your warning.
“omg you should’ve —” no one forced your entitled ass to read anything. fanfic writers write for themselves and their own enjoyment. if you don’t like what you’re reading, quietly leave. ao3 is not an airport. no one cares about your departure so no need to announce it.
A few more days passed without Miguel visiting. You told yourself that you just had to go with the flow. If he showed up, you’d enjoy his company, but you wouldn’t let yourself feel disappointed if he didn’t come.
Tonight, you were sipping a glass of wine while watching a drama series. It had been chilly in your apartment despite the summer heat, so your robe was wrapped loosely around your body over one of your new matching pajama sets.
Excitement bubbled up in you as you heard a noise on your balcony. You stood up to find Miguel standing there.
You let him in and gestured again to the couch.
“Welcome back,” you smiled as you returned to your spot.
You turned your attention back to the show. You both sat in comfortable silence for a while.
When the episode ended you glanced over to him.
The wine had softened your resolve just a bit. You felt the warmth in your cheeks deepen when he met your eyes.
“This has got to be the strangest crush I’ve ever had.” You smiled into your glass of wine as you took another sip.
The silence grew louder.
“Maybe I should join one of those Spiderman fanclubs that I see in the park every once and awhile.”
It was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure he chuckled.
“Was that a laugh?” You sat up and leaned closer, inspecting him for any ounce of humor.
“I’m capable of laughing.”
“I never would’ve known.”
Suddenly, you were only inches apart.
In one deft motion, Miguel pulled you into his lap. The swiftness disarmed you.
He was warm and solid beneath you. His large hands sat politely on your hips, and you swore you felt him squeeze almost imperceptibly.
If you were more impulsive, you would try to remove the mask that separated you from seeing his face. It was all you could think about.
You inspected closely, but there was no obvious line of demarcation between the mask on his head and the suit on his body. It seemed like one seamless piece of fabric.
“Are you ever going to let me see what you look like?” You whispered.
Instead of answering, he pulled the belt of your robe from the loops.
He gestured to cover your eyes with the belt, but he hesitated.
You nodded, and he tied the long strip behind your head. You were plunged into darkness.
He grabbed your hand and placed it on the side of his face. Your breath hitched as you felt short stubble and smooth skin. You traced your hand along his features: a sharp jawline, a strong brow, a defined nose. You felt a lock of hair on his forehead and brushed it back.
You took a leap of faith and dipped your head to place a soft kiss on his mouth.
He stilled under your touch. You pulled back, anxious that you had gone too far.
Your pulse pounded in your ears, waiting for his reaction. You felt his hand lift from your hip and cup the back of your head gently. He pulled you down and kissed you again.
The movements became more fervent. You soon devolved into a mess of wandering hands and hungry kisses.
You wanted him. No, you needed him. Every atom of your body was desperate to be closer to him.
You found yourself on your back beneath his enormous frame. He had a hand tangled in your hair as he kissed your neck in a way that put all your past lovers to shame.
Your eyes flew open underneath the blindfold as you felt his hand disentangle itself from your hair. He abruptly pulled away from you.
Your chest heaved and you sat up, ripping the blindfold off in exasperation.
The mask was back on. Miguel stood at the end of the couch with his hands out, as if you were going to tackle him.
Disbelief flooded your system. Had you done something wrong? You had clearly misread the situation.
You looked at him expectantly, a puzzled expression on your face. You could still feel the imprint of his hands on your body.
“Right.” You whispered. You felt strange craning your neck so far to look at him, and you stood up to try to level the playing field.
Shame and embarrassment consumed you along with a sharp pang of anger.
“Cool. Um. I think you should leave.” You turned your back to him and tried to soothe yourself.
“Hey-“
You whipped around. “No, it’s fine. We can pretend that didn’t happen. I have a busy day tomorrow, so I should-“
“I didn’t stop because I didn’t want to.”
“Then why did you stop?” The question came out sharper than you intended.
He took a step towards you. “I was thinking.”
You waited. “Go on.”
“If I didn’t stop myself then, I wouldn’t have stopped at all.”
“I still don’t understand. Do you think you’re taking advantage of me or something? I only had one glass of wine…I’m more than capable of consenting.”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not that. If I crossed that line…I would never leave.”
“So then stay! I like having you here.” There was desperation in your voice. You hated yourself for it.
He walked over and cupped your jaw. “I like being here. But…you don’t know what happens to people I care about. It never ends well.”
“So you’re leaving?” Tears had welled in your eyes.
“If you want me to, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you say.”
You crossed your arms and stepped away from his touch. “That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“You don’t get to come to my apartment on and off for weeks, kiss me like…that, and then put it on me to decide what happens next!”
He recoiled from the words. You reveled in affecting him the way he was affecting you.
“Let me make this clear: I like you. Not because you’re Spiderman, but because you’re smart, and endearing, and unfortunately incredibly attractive. I want to watch stupid reality tv with you. I want to sleep with you, but only if we’re on equal footing.”
You took a breath to steady yourself. “Right now, you know me intimately. I know nothing about you. If this is going to work, it can’t go on like that. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand. You want vulnerability and honesty.”
“Yes.”
“Even if it’s unsettling?”
Your anxiety spiked for a moment at his question, but you tamped it down. “Even if it’s the most difficult thing I’ll ever hear.”
“Okay. The first night I talked to you was not the first night I saw you.”
You cocked your head. “What do you mean?”
“I watched you for weeks. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
It took much longer than it should’ve for you to fully grasp his words.
“You watched me.”
He nodded, unabashed in his confession.
“For weeks.”
You sat back down on the couch, struggling to digest the words still hanging in the air.
“Yes. I could only see what transpired in this room, if it’s any consolation. I tried to give you at least some privacy.”
The last few weeks played back in your mind. Falling asleep as the TV droned on. Reading as the afternoon sunlight poured in. Scrolling endlessly on social media.
“You knew who I was before we met.”
“Yes.”
You finally worked up the courage to look at him again. You struggled to read his expression.
“Why me?”
“Like I told you, I don’t have a good answer for you. I noticed you.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“No, but it’s the truth.”
“What do you know about me?”
He thought for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“You wash your hair every other weekday. You only eat ice cream if you had a bad day. You usually only cook a couple of times a week and prefer takeout on the weekends. Oh, and I noticed that you got new pajamas after the first time that I came over.”
You blinked at his painfully accurate observations. He was telling the truth, and now you had to live with it.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Because you deserve better.”
“That’s a cop out.”
You watched his hands clench at his sides. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is. ‘I deserve better.’ Better than what? Better than you? That’s ridiculous. You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then please enlighten me. What makes you so uniquely unlovable?”
The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.
“I bury people that I love. I outlive them. Something…unspeakable happens to each of them.”
It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Miguel’s back was to you, his head hanging.
You took a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small. You couldn’t begin to fathom the profound loss he had experienced. You wouldn’t dare ask details.
You both stared at the skyline through the glass. You didn’t know what to say.
“The worst part is that I understand why you kept your distance.”
He turned to look at you.
“But I’m still angry with you.”
He opened his mouth to speak but you put a hand up.
“No. You don’t get to tell me all of this and have me be completely okay with it. Do you know how humiliating it is to have my privacy completely invaded that way? How embarrassed I feel?”
The cleaning spree flashed through your mind. The new pajamas. How you had spent so many nights glancing over your shoulder, hoping that he might show up.
They had all felt a little silly at the time, but now you felt…exposed. Childish, almost.
“The fucked up thing is…I still want you to stay. Maybe I should go check myself into a mental hospital instead.”
You had intended for it to be a joke, but there was no humor in your voice.
“You bought new pajamas.”
You nodded and looked down. You felt a tear sliding down your cheek. “Yeah. I did.”
“I didn’t realize why.”
“Of course you didn’t. You thought that you could just say hello to me and I would be unaffected.” You wiped the tears with the back of your hand.
“After you came inside the first time, I spent every evening looking out my window like some teenager waiting for her crush to text back.”
“I thought if I kept my distance, it would go away.”
“Well, clearly you failed at that.”
Silence.
“I’m exhausted.” You said.
“Emotionally?”
“Emotionally. Physically.” You dropped back down onto the couch, dejected.
You patted the cushion next to you.
“I-“
“Sit down.”
The couch creaked slightly under his weight.
“I’m viscerally angry.”
“I know.”
“And I’m definitely going to be angry tomorrow. And probably the next day. But I’m not going to tell you to leave.”
“Can you come here?”
You hesitated before scooting closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed.
Somehow, you knew you’d find a way through this.
In the coming days, your anger dissipated. You chalked the whole thing up to being a bizarre situation, and decided that if you wanted some semblance of a relationship with Miguel, that meant that strange things were going to occur more often.
Not much had changed from your normal routine. You would come home, make dinner, and lounge around your living room. Sometime after the sun had set, he would usually show up. You’d talk to him in great detail about your day or your frustrations or your most recent interest.
He listened intently. Sometimes you’d lay on his chest and fall asleep. You’d wake up the next morning in your bed, tenderly tucked in.
Sometimes, you’d make out, always towing the boundary he’d set that fateful night. You had decided that if a boundary was going to be broken, it was not going to be you who broke it.
One afternoon just after you arrived home, a delivery came. A few grocery bags with your regular items along with a note.
“Noticed you were getting low. I’ll see you in a few days.” -M
Your stomach flipped at the gesture. He knew you innately, and it terrified you.
The next time he came around, he found you completely passed out on your couch. You had left the balcony door unlocked, and he chose to let himself in rather than waking you. He walked over and saw tissues and cough medicine on the coffee table.
You stirred on the couch, and he used the back of his hand to check your forehead. You blinked at him through heavy lashes.
“I’m sick.” You whispered.
“Yeah, you have a fever. You need fluids.” He walked towards your kitchen.
“I don’t want to spread whatever I have to you.” You tried to raise your hoarse voice.
“I don’t get sick. I have an enhanced immune system.”
“Thanks for rubbing it in.” You whispered to yourself as you let your head plop back onto the pillow.
He returned a few minutes later with a mug of tea and a glass of water.
“Drink.” He commanded.
“You’re kind of bossy for a caretaker.” You sat up and took a long sip from the glass of water.
“Yeah and you’re pretty mouthy for a patient.” He sat next to you and pulled you onto his chest.
You closed your eyes again and snuggled into his warmth.
“You know what would make me feel better?”
“What?” He asked as he brushed your hair back.
“Seeing your face.”
You heard a strange noise. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times to see a beautiful man staring down at you with a smile that melted your heart.
“Better?”
“Much.”
After recovering, your friends demanded that you come out with them to a new club in Brooklyn. You danced the night away, and it was late by the time you stumbled back into your apartment. You kicked your heels off, and the warmth of the last cocktail you had still swam under your skin.
You flicked the lights on, partially expecting to find Miguel, as you had made it a habit to leave the balcony door unlocked for him.
“You know, my friends think I’m sleeping with someone.” You said to no one in particular as you headed to the kitchen to get some water.
“If only I could be so lucky,” you muttered to yourself as you filled up your glass.
A soft thud drew your attention, and Miguel stood in front of you. You stared at him with wide eyes. You would never get used to his superpowers.
“You’ve been drinking.”
You raised a brow at him. “I had three cocktails over like 5 hours.”
He raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not judging, just making an observation. Did you have fun?”
You shrugged. “I did…My friends think I’m sleeping with someone.”
You watched him closely for any kind of reaction, but he was motionless.
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically. “See, that’s the kind of reaction that makes me want to shake you.”
“Why?”
“Because a normal person would say something different.”
“Like what?”
You set your glass down and shrugged again. “I don’t know…something like, ‘Why do they think that?’ or ‘What did you tell them?’”
He stared at you blankly.
“It doesn’t matter. I told them I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. Which is true, by the way.” You walked past him towards your bedroom, not caring if he chose to follow you.
You dug through your dresser to find something to change into, surprised to find Miguel standing in your doorway.
“What would you have liked to say to them?”
“What?”
“To your friends. When they asked if you were seeing someone.”
“I would’ve liked to say yes. If I'm being brutally honest, I would’ve like to say that I’m having the best sex of my life but that’s not happening either.”
He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about sex.”
You scoffed. “Oh, then please tell me what this is about.”
“This is about honesty.”
You closed the drawer and gripped the sides of the dresser. “Honesty. I think you’re exactly right. Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”
He sighed and took a step closer to you. “I don’t know.”
You stepped away from him and crossed your arms. “Well, I’ve tried to be really respectful of your arbitrary boundary but it’s getting a little frustrating.”
“Arbitrary?”
“You heard me. We fall asleep together, we eat together, you listen to me drone on and on about my job. You don’t think all of those things are just as intimate as sex?”
“You’ve put me in a bad position,” you continued on. “My coworkers think I’m seeing someone. I had to lie to my parents on the phone last week because they think I’m secluding myself in my apartment. I couldn’t tell them that in a Schrodinger’s relationship with Spiderman.”
Miguel laughed at the euphemism. “That was cute.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate that. I just don't understand why it all needs to be so complicated." You shrugged.
"It's not complicated, and I'm sorry for putting you in a predicament. Come here." He opened his arms to you.
You walked over and let him envelop you in his strong embrace. You pressed your face into his chest, and the world melted away. You listened to the steady heartbeat for a long while before he tipped your chin up and kissed you deeply.
Warmth flooded your body as you leaned into him. He picked you up as if you were weightless without breaking the kiss and backed you into the wall.
You pulled back and searched his gaze.
“What?” He whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m nervous,” You chuckled.
“Don’t be. If you want me to stop, just tell me. I never want to hurt you.”
Your heart swelled. You grabbed the back of his head and kissed him again. You knew, deep down, that you loved this man with every fiber of your being. You silently cursed the universe for bestowing something so complicated on you.
Later that night, Miguel’s arms were wrapped around you in your bed. He was in a deep sleep, but you couldn’t manage to close your eyes long enough to drift off.
Miguel had arrived home just a minute ago. You'd felt the tell-tale prickle on your skin—the soft whoosh in the air that signaled a portal opening somewhere nearby. Then the bed creaked and groaned in the bedroom as a familiar weight settled onto it. Silence fell over the apartment again.
You finished up in the bathroom and stepped out, flipping off the light. Miguel was there, stretched out on the bed in the soft lamplight. He lay on his back, His arm draped over his eyes and his foot propped up on the comforter. The other leg still hung over the edge like he couldn't be bothered to drag the rest of himself onto it.
"Hey, baby." You greeted softly. He hadn't moved or acknowledged you just yet, even though you knew he would have heard you in the house as soon as he stepped in—enhanced senses and all that. But even those senses got tired some days.
You crawled onto the bed and gently settled yourself against his side. The warmth of his body seeped into yours as you lay an arm across his middle, loosely hugging him. Miguel dragged his arm down from his eyes to rest it around your back, his fingers brushing your side like a feather.
"Work pretty busy today?" You murmured, tilting your head to prop your chin on his chest.
His responding hum was so deep that it rumbled against your chin. "Yeah." He mumbled roughly, like just speaking took effort.
Your lips turned down in a sympathetic pout. "I'm sorry, baby."
You slid your hand up across his chest and to his tight, muscular shoulders. You delicately squeezed and rubbed the muscle, attempting to massage away the stress he held there.
A soft noise of contentment emitted from his throat. Miguel's hand slid up your spine and stroked your hair, carding through the strands. "It helps coming back home to you." He said softly.
You shivered as his fingers brushed your scalp. A fond smile spread on your lips. "That's all I want for you." You whispered. "To make your days better."
His eyes cracked open finally, the sliver of deep red irises meeting your gaze. "You do."
His hand slipped from your hair so his thumb could stroke your cheek, lightly caressing the corner of your lips. You turned your head just enough to catch the pad of his thumb against the center of your lips, and you held his gaze as you kissed it gently.
His eyes softened, the lingering tension in his face finally draining away. His arms encircled you with a new strength, and he drew you up even closer against him, rolling onto his side as he curled you into his embrace.
Miguel's face buried into your neck and his whole chest swelled as he inhaled deeply. His fingers tightened briefly as if he was trying to cling to your form and drink in your very essence.
"Te amo." He murmured against the steady pulse in your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, and your own arms wrapped around his broad back, holding him tighter than before.
"I love you, too, Migs."
A/N: Miguel just seems like the type to really need a good, tight hug and that would be enough to satisfy him
A few more days passed without Miguel visiting. You told yourself that you just had to go with the flow. If he showed up, you’d enjoy his company, but you wouldn’t let yourself feel disappointed if he didn’t come.
Tonight, you were sipping a glass of wine while watching a drama series. It had been chilly in your apartment despite the summer heat, so your robe was wrapped loosely around your body over one of your new matching pajama sets.
Excitement bubbled up in you as you heard a noise on your balcony. You stood up to find Miguel standing there.
You let him in and gestured again to the couch.
“Welcome back,” you smiled as you returned to your spot.
You turned your attention back to the show. You both sat in comfortable silence for a while.
When the episode ended you glanced over to him.
The wine had softened your resolve just a bit. You felt the warmth in your cheeks deepen when he met your eyes.
“This has got to be the strangest crush I’ve ever had.” You smiled into your glass of wine as you took another sip.
The silence grew louder.
“Maybe I should join one of those Spiderman fanclubs that I see in the park every once and awhile.”
It was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure he chuckled.
“Was that a laugh?” You sat up and leaned closer, inspecting him for any ounce of humor.
“I’m capable of laughing.”
“I never would’ve known.”
Suddenly, you were only inches apart.
In one deft motion, Miguel pulled you into his lap. The swiftness disarmed you.
He was warm and solid beneath you. His large hands sat politely on your hips, and you swore you felt him squeeze almost imperceptibly.
If you were more impulsive, you would try to remove the mask that separated you from seeing his face. It was all you could think about.
You inspected closely, but there was no obvious line of demarcation between the mask on his head and the suit on his body. It seemed like one seamless piece of fabric.
“Are you ever going to let me see what you look like?” You whispered.
Instead of answering, he pulled the belt of your robe from the loops.
He gestured to cover your eyes with the belt, but he hesitated.
You nodded, and he tied the long strip behind your head. You were plunged into darkness.
He grabbed your hand and placed it on the side of his face. Your breath hitched as you felt short stubble and smooth skin. You traced your hand along his features: a sharp jawline, a strong brow, a defined nose. You felt a lock of hair on his forehead and brushed it back.
You took a leap of faith and dipped your head to place a soft kiss on his mouth.
He stilled under your touch. You pulled back, anxious that you had gone too far.
Your pulse pounded in your ears, waiting for his reaction. You felt his hand lift from your hip and cup the back of your head gently. He pulled you down and kissed you again.
The movements became more fervent. You soon devolved into a mess of wandering hands and hungry kisses.
You wanted him. No, you needed him. Every atom of your body was desperate to be closer to him.
You found yourself on your back beneath his enormous frame. He had a hand tangled in your hair as he kissed your neck in a way that put all your past lovers to shame.
Your eyes flew open underneath the blindfold as you felt his hand disentangle itself from your hair. He abruptly pulled away from you.
Your chest heaved and you sat up, ripping the blindfold off in exasperation.
The mask was back on. Miguel stood at the end of the couch with his hands out, as if you were going to tackle him.
Disbelief flooded your system. Had you done something wrong? You had clearly misread the situation.
You looked at him expectantly, a puzzled expression on your face. You could still feel the imprint of his hands on your body.
“Right.” You whispered. You felt strange craning your neck so far to look at him, and you stood up to try to level the playing field.
Shame and embarrassment consumed you along with a sharp pang of anger.
“Cool. Um. I think you should leave.” You turned your back to him and tried to soothe yourself.
“Hey-“
You whipped around. “No, it’s fine. We can pretend that didn’t happen. I have a busy day tomorrow, so I should-“
“I didn’t stop because I didn’t want to.”
“Then why did you stop?” The question came out sharper than you intended.
He took a step towards you. “I was thinking.”
You waited. “Go on.”
“If I didn’t stop myself then, I wouldn’t have stopped at all.”
“I still don’t understand. Do you think you’re taking advantage of me or something? I only had one glass of wine…I’m more than capable of consenting.”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not that. If I crossed that line…I would never leave.”
“So then stay! I like having you here.” There was desperation in your voice. You hated yourself for it.
He walked over and cupped your jaw. “I like being here. But…you don’t know what happens to people I care about. It never ends well.”
“So you’re leaving?” Tears had welled in your eyes.
“If you want me to, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you say.”
You crossed your arms and stepped away from his touch. “That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“You don’t get to come to my apartment on and off for weeks, kiss me like…that, and then put it on me to decide what happens next!”
He recoiled from the words. You reveled in affecting him the way he was affecting you.
“Let me make this clear: I like you. Not because you’re Spiderman, but because you’re smart, and endearing, and unfortunately incredibly attractive. I want to watch stupid reality tv with you. I want to sleep with you, but only if we’re on equal footing.”
You took a breath to steady yourself. “Right now, you know me intimately. I know nothing about you. If this is going to work, it can’t go on like that. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand. You want vulnerability and honesty.”
“Yes.”
“Even if it’s unsettling?”
Your anxiety spiked for a moment at his question, but you tamped it down. “Even if it’s the most difficult thing I’ll ever hear.”
“Okay. The first night I talked to you was not the first night I saw you.”
You cocked your head. “What do you mean?”
“I watched you for weeks. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
It took much longer than it should’ve for you to fully grasp his words.
“You watched me.”
He nodded, unabashed in his confession.
“For weeks.”
You sat back down on the couch, struggling to digest the words still hanging in the air.
“Yes. I could only see what transpired in this room, if it’s any consolation. I tried to give you at least some privacy.”
The last few weeks played back in your mind. Falling asleep as the TV droned on. Reading as the afternoon sunlight poured in. Scrolling endlessly on social media.
“You knew who I was before we met.”
“Yes.”
You finally worked up the courage to look at him again. You struggled to read his expression.
“Why me?”
“Like I told you, I don’t have a good answer for you. I noticed you.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“No, but it’s the truth.”
“What do you know about me?”
He thought for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“You wash your hair every other weekday. You only eat ice cream if you had a bad day. You usually only cook a couple of times a week and prefer takeout on the weekends. Oh, and I noticed that you got new pajamas after the first time that I came over.”
You blinked at his painfully accurate observations. He was telling the truth, and now you had to live with it.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Because you deserve better.”
“That’s a cop out.”
You watched his hands clench at his sides. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is. ‘I deserve better.’ Better than what? Better than you? That’s ridiculous. You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then please enlighten me. What makes you so uniquely unlovable?”
The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.
“I bury people that I love. I outlive them. Something…unspeakable happens to each of them.”
It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Miguel’s back was to you, his head hanging.
You took a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small. You couldn’t begin to fathom the profound loss he had experienced. You wouldn’t dare ask details.
You both stared at the skyline through the glass. You didn’t know what to say.
“The worst part is that I understand why you kept your distance.”
He turned to look at you.
“But I’m still angry with you.”
He opened his mouth to speak but you put a hand up.
“No. You don’t get to tell me all of this and have me be completely okay with it. Do you know how humiliating it is to have my privacy completely invaded that way? How embarrassed I feel?”
The cleaning spree flashed through your mind. The new pajamas. How you had spent so many nights glancing over your shoulder, hoping that he might show up.
They had all felt a little silly at the time, but now you felt…exposed. Childish, almost.
“The fucked up thing is…I still want you to stay. Maybe I should go check myself into a mental hospital instead.”
You had intended for it to be a joke, but there was no humor in your voice.
“You bought new pajamas.”
You nodded and looked down. You felt a tear sliding down your cheek. “Yeah. I did.”
“I didn’t realize why.”
“Of course you didn’t. You thought that you could just say hello to me and I would be unaffected.” You wiped the tears with the back of your hand.
“After you came inside the first time, I spent every evening looking out my window like some teenager waiting for her crush to text back.”
“I thought if I kept my distance, it would go away.”
“Well, clearly you failed at that.”
Silence.
“I’m exhausted.” You said.
“Emotionally?”
“Emotionally. Physically.” You dropped back down onto the couch, dejected.
You patted the cushion next to you.
“I-“
“Sit down.”
The couch creaked slightly under his weight.
“I’m viscerally angry.”
“I know.”
“And I’m definitely going to be angry tomorrow. And probably the next day. But I’m not going to tell you to leave.”
“Can you come here?”
You hesitated before scooting closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed.
Somehow, you knew you’d find a way through this.
In the coming days, your anger dissipated. You chalked the whole thing up to being a bizarre situation, and decided that if you wanted some semblance of a relationship with Miguel, that meant that strange things were going to occur more often.
Not much had changed from your normal routine. You would come home, make dinner, and lounge around your living room. Sometime after the sun had set, he would usually show up. You’d talk to him in great detail about your day or your frustrations or your most recent interest.
He listened intently. Sometimes you’d lay on his chest and fall asleep. You’d wake up the next morning in your bed, tenderly tucked in.
Sometimes, you’d make out, always towing the boundary he’d set that fateful night. You had decided that if a boundary was going to be broken, it was not going to be you who broke it.
One afternoon just after you arrived home, a delivery came. A few grocery bags with your regular items along with a note.
“Noticed you were getting low. I’ll see you in a few days.” -M
Your stomach flipped at the gesture. He knew you innately, and it terrified you.
The next time he came around, he found you completely passed out on your couch. You had left the balcony door unlocked, and he chose to let himself in rather than waking you. He walked over and saw tissues and cough medicine on the coffee table.
You stirred on the couch, and he used the back of his hand to check your forehead. You blinked at him through heavy lashes.
“I’m sick.” You whispered.
“Yeah, you have a fever. You need fluids.” He walked towards your kitchen.
“I don’t want to spread whatever I have to you.” You tried to raise your hoarse voice.
“I don’t get sick. I have an enhanced immune system.”
“Thanks for rubbing it in.” You whispered to yourself as you let your head plop back onto the pillow.
He returned a few minutes later with a mug of tea and a glass of water.
“Drink.” He commanded.
“You’re kind of bossy for a caretaker.” You sat up and took a long sip from the glass of water.
“Yeah and you’re pretty mouthy for a patient.” He sat next to you and pulled you onto his chest.
You closed your eyes again and snuggled into his warmth.
“You know what would make me feel better?”
“What?” He asked as he brushed your hair back.
“Seeing your face.”
You heard a strange noise. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times to see a beautiful man staring down at you with a smile that melted your heart.
“Better?”
“Much.”
After recovering, your friends demanded that you come out with them to a new club in Brooklyn. You danced the night away, and it was late by the time you stumbled back into your apartment. You kicked your heels off, and the warmth of the last cocktail you had still swam under your skin.
You flicked the lights on, partially expecting to find Miguel, as you had made it a habit to leave the balcony door unlocked for him.
“You know, my friends think I’m sleeping with someone.” You said to no one in particular as you headed to the kitchen to get some water.
“If only I could be so lucky,” you muttered to yourself as you filled up your glass.
A soft thud drew your attention, and Miguel stood in front of you. You stared at him with wide eyes. You would never get used to his superpowers.
“You’ve been drinking.”
You raised a brow at him. “I had three cocktails over like 5 hours.”
He raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not judging, just making an observation. Did you have fun?”
You shrugged. “I did…My friends think I’m sleeping with someone.”
You watched him closely for any kind of reaction, but he was motionless.
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically. “See, that’s the kind of reaction that makes me want to shake you.”
“Why?”
“Because a normal person would say something different.”
“Like what?”
You set your glass down and shrugged again. “I don’t know…something like, ‘Why do they think that?’ or ‘What did you tell them?’”
He stared at you blankly.
“It doesn’t matter. I told them I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. Which is true, by the way.” You walked past him towards your bedroom, not caring if he chose to follow you.
You dug through your dresser to find something to change into, surprised to find Miguel standing in your doorway.
“What would you have liked to say to them?”
“What?”
“To your friends. When they asked if you were seeing someone.”
“I would’ve liked to say yes. If I'm being brutally honest, I would’ve like to say that I’m having the best sex of my life but that’s not happening either.”
He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about sex.”
You scoffed. “Oh, then please tell me what this is about.”
“This is about honesty.”
You closed the drawer and gripped the sides of the dresser. “Honesty. I think you’re exactly right. Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”
He sighed and took a step closer to you. “I don’t know.”
You stepped away from him and crossed your arms. “Well, I’ve tried to be really respectful of your arbitrary boundary but it’s getting a little frustrating.”
“Arbitrary?”
“You heard me. We fall asleep together, we eat together, you listen to me drone on and on about my job. You don’t think all of those things are just as intimate as sex?”
“You’ve put me in a bad position,” you continued on. “My coworkers think I’m seeing someone. I had to lie to my parents on the phone last week because they think I’m secluding myself in my apartment. I couldn’t tell them that in a Schrodinger’s relationship with Spiderman.”
Miguel laughed at the euphemism. “That was cute.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate that. I just don't understand why it all needs to be so complicated." You shrugged.
"It's not complicated, and I'm sorry for putting you in a predicament. Come here." He opened his arms to you.
You walked over and let him envelop you in his strong embrace. You pressed your face into his chest, and the world melted away. You listened to the steady heartbeat for a long while before he tipped your chin up and kissed you deeply.
Warmth flooded your body as you leaned into him. He picked you up as if you were weightless without breaking the kiss and backed you into the wall.
You pulled back and searched his gaze.
“What?” He whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m nervous,” You chuckled.
“Don’t be. If you want me to stop, just tell me. I never want to hurt you.”
Your heart swelled. You grabbed the back of his head and kissed him again. You knew, deep down, that you loved this man with every fiber of your being. You silently cursed the universe for bestowing something so complicated on you.
Later that night, Miguel’s arms were wrapped around you in your bed. He was in a deep sleep, but you couldn’t manage to close your eyes long enough to drift off.
