The minute Miguel stormed into his shared apartment with you, you knew something was wrong. On the surface, it was obvious — his tattered suit, ripped in some places and bloodied in others. The blooming bruises on his cheek and eye. His split lip.

But once you finally got him to sit down so you could patch him up, you felt something else lingering. Something deeper than a shallow cut he gained in battle. And he could feel it too; could feel your gaze weighted with concern boring into him, searching the darkest depths of his guarded heart for the source of his inner turmoil. Even if you couldn’t quite reach it with looks alone, you were getting close. Miguel was still wary about opening up to you, but right now, you were a bit harder to resist.

The one thing that was twisting his thoughts with anger was the fact that he failed. He failed a mission that should’ve been simple, and yet was not. All he had to do was wait a bit longer. All he had to do was wait for Jessica’s backup, and the anomaly would’ve been caught in his sharp clutches by now.

But no. He had to go in, like many of the dumb, naïve spider-children he had welcomed into the Spider Society, and get himself hurt with no one to back him up. It was like all his training and rationale had disappeared in that moment. Was there even a reason to his stupidity? Miguel had not a clue.

The tempest rushing through his mind was not planning on stopping anytime soon, but once his eyes locked on yours, it quieted. For only a second.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Miguel asked, his voice trying to house a modicum of annoyance, but most of it being cushioned by his fondness for you.