(ITB) ISSUE #10: A BIT OF AKWARDNESS

Miles’ arrival threw a wrench in Tattletale’s plans.

Taylor could see it in the flicker of surprise behind the girl's calculating eyes, in the momentary falter in her too-sure smile, as Miles moved soundlessly, slipping into place beside her like he’d never left.

Taylor didn’t say anything at first. Relief and fury twisted in her chest, tight and dizzying. She felt frozen in place too, even as her bugs stirred restlessly over the rooftops, drawn toward him instinctively.

Tattletale’s mouth opened, probably to pick up the conversation like nothing had changed. She struck Taylor as the type who kept talking, even when the moment didn’t call for it. But she didn’t get the chance.

The tall one, Grue, moved quickly. He pulled her back, one gloved hand clasping her arm, and turned without a word. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head—sending a look oddly enough at Miles—and she frowned but reluctantly followed. The one carrying the scepter followed, offering a casual two-fingered wave, while Bitch lingered the longest, giving Miles a long, unreadable look before whistling for her monster of a dog. Within seconds, the four were mounted and bounding away across the rooftops, swallowed by the night and distance.

Taylor was left staring at the boy who’d vanished for two weeks without a single word.

Her mouth opened with everything she wanted to say, threatening to spill out in a rush—Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you send me a message? I thought you—

He hugged her.

It wasn’t awkward or tentative, even though it came without warning. He wrapped his arms around her and held her like he had no intention of letting go, and she stood there, frozen. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. And her arms were caught between wanting to push him back and holding him closer. Hovering, before they finally settled against his back. 

He was warm. Solid. Comforting. And she found herself melting into the embrace. 

After a long moment, they separated—just enough to breathe—and it was then she noticed the worn, paint-smeared bag slung behind him.

“I have something to show you,” he said in a whisper that did funny things to her stomach. “Come on.”

Come on. Not, we need to talk. Not, I’m sorry. And yet, somehow, it said all the things she needed to hear. He hadn’t left her behind. He hadn’t forgotten her.

He’d been working on something.

Curiosity pushed her to follow him, her questions tangled up in quiet hope.

They made their way across rooftops in silence, still in sync despite their time apart. Past old billboards and ramshackle apartments. Past rusted fire escapes and broken chimneys where pigeons scattered. Miles never said where they were going, but she followed without hesitation.

Then she saw it.

Outside the old train station, on the crumbling brick wall above the south platform, a beautiful mural towered over the tracks.

It was them. Stylized, as always, but unmistakably her and Miles—standing shoulder to shoulder. Her outline was a bold black and accented with veins of deep gold. His was vibrant red with odd streaks of green and purple. A massive spiderweb stretched behind them, filled with crawling, shifting shapes—some mini-spiders, some other bugs, all moving toward the center.

Toward them.

Taylor stared, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. 

His artworks were always better than the last, but surely, it couldn’t have been done in a day. It had taken time. Planning. Patience.

Luck.

But still… it wasn’t just this. It couldn’t be.

She turned toward him, questions building behind her eyes, but he was already reaching into his bag.

“I know you already have a suit,” he said, carefully pulling out a folded bundle. “And I don’t want to be presumptuous…”

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, he exhaled and held it out. 

The bundle, when unfolded, was a black bodysuit with gold web lines and a gold, stylized spider emblazoned across the chest. Just like the mural. Just like his. 

But hers. 

“…But you are a Spider-person. Just not like me. And where I come from, we all wear the symbol.”

Taylor didn’t answer. Couldn’t, again.

Not because she didn’t want to.

But because her mind was too loud: What? Why? Why me? Why now?

Miles fidgeted in place, obviously unsure if she would accept it. “Also,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck, “your current suit kind of makes you look like a supervillain.”

That cracked something in her—an unexpected, dry laugh that escaped before she could stop it. Shaky at first, then more solid and louder as seconds passed. 

“You’re not wrong,” she said, still half-laughing.

He grinned. She rolled her eyes. They stood there a moment longer, and something in her chest, long coiled tight, finally breathed.

In another world, maybe this would’ve been the moment for a kiss or more. But this was Brockton Bay. And she was still Taylor Hebert. Awkwardness made any romantic overture difficult to pull off. 

Even so…

She felt better, now that he was here.