#Kenneth G | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milimeters-morales · 4 months

Text

chapter 6 of my transfem miles fic :3

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 7 / Chap 8 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: None! But a non-binary character does talk about getting jumped!

CONFESSION PLAN:

Tell Peter and twin

Survive

???

Profit

(Note: If dead, warn Ganke through haunting)

____

Miles doesn’t plan on fighting while he’s out, and he honestly doesn’t even need it if he does, but he changes into his now-dried suit and a jacket anyway before opening a portal to Peter’s dimension.His parents, sound asleep in their bed after dinner, won’t even realize he left. He folds his paper and tucks it away in his pocket, lightly slapping the sides of his face as he’s shot through the portal and into a water tower.

Groaning in annoyance, he stands up, taking a good look around. Peter’s dimension is only half an hour ahead of his own, so the man should still be out. Unless he’s watching Mayday tonight?

“I’ll just go check his house,” he mumbles, rubbing his face. He doesn’t want to wake Mrs. Watson at all, much less Mayday if they just got her to sleep, but he’s on a time crunch. He needs to get this done before 12, or else that would be breaking his promise, even if Ganke didn’t actually have to know if he gets it done around two… which was shamefully tempting.

But he could do this. His anxiety was just making him fear every possible bad outcome, and didn’t even allow room for any possibly good outcome, or even consider the long term effects of being honest despite the bad outcomes. He knows this, he’s a really emotionally intelligent guy, or whatever.

Honestly, though? That means jack when he’s still not brave enough to actually confront those emotions. That changes tonight, for sure. He can do this!

He camouflages as he’s swinging, landing in the family’s front yard with a quiet thump. Gross, the grass is wet.

Crawling to the windows, he tries to find any lights already on, sighing when it’s all dark in the house. The blinds are closed on all of them too, so he can’t see inside. Putting his ear to several points on the walls only reveals two heartbeats calm and steady with sleep.

So Peter is still out, then. He can’t just wait here until the man shows up, who knows when that would be?

Crawling onto the roof, he sits and frustratedly rubs at his face. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he tries to make a more detailed plan. Peter’s currently not at his house and there’s no way of telling when he’d be back, and Miles can’t search all of Queens in under… an hour, he needs an hour for Peter and G., even with his spider-sense guiding him to where the man could be if he got in range.

“So… okay, wait, I can call him,” Miles mumbles. If Peter doesn’t answer, he could go to Earth-42 and try his luck there, his alternate self definitely wasn’t going to be asleep… but it would be even harder to find the other boy since there’s not even a spider-sense to help guide him…

Peter picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “Hey bud! Kind of busy right now! Can it be quick?”

Miles can be quick. Rip the bandaid off, for real this time.

“Peter, I have something super-- EXTREMELY important to tell you.”

“How important are we talking? Scale of one to ten, oh darn--” Peter’s cut off by mad cackling that Miles doesn’t recognize, must be a villain losing it. He hears Peter coughing and his heart speeding up.

“Do you need help?” Miles asks him, standing up, grimacing at the realization the roof was wet too. Double gross.

“No buddy, all good here! Aaalll good, c’mon, what were you saying?”

You’ve already told him once before, you can do it again. He’s already promised to not tell.

Miles inhales deeply, pushing past the giant wave of terror-- okay, no, he’s not going to lie. He’s still terrified, and those rocks in his stomach are trying to burn a hole through his stomach and spill his innards all over this roof tile. Triple gross.

Confessing better get them out, Miles doesn’t even know what he’d do if he had to carry their weight and shame with him any longer.

“Buddy? You good?”

But what if it’s all for nothing? What if this honesty doesn’t get rid of any of his fears, what if this only makes them worse if it goes poorly?

Miles exhales, letting the coming waves hit him full force, saltwater filling his lungs.

“Miles--”

“I’m gay.”

It burns. Horribly. He knew it, he knew it all along, and he still confessed.

“Whu-- Yeah, I knew that already, remember?”

The rocks seem to gain sharp edges out of nowhere, making him sit back down and try to catch his breath. There’s too much on his body, and the water is still on the roof, and it’s all so gross. He’s gross. Admitting being gay didn’t help at all, all it did was give Peter confirmation, it gave him reason to hate him.

“Your heartbeat is all fast, is everything alright?”

He could be on his way to beat us to death , a voice whispers in his head, you know what happens to boys like us.

Please, just stop , Miles begs the voice, tears escaping and freely flowing down his cheeks.

“Miles, where are you? Are you at home? I hear crickets-- are you outside?”

What a brave-hearted hero, risking it all , the voice whispers, trying to smother his actual voice of reason, you’re going to get Ganke killed.

“Stop, he wouldn’t…” Miles breathes out, digging his nails into his leg. He has to focus.

“Kid, please tell me where you are.” Peter tells him, a hint of urgency in his tone.

Look, he still cares, Miles thinks, he doesn’t hate me. I didn’t ruin anything! Nothing bad happened!

With pain in his leg clearing the fog of anxiety that was beginning to overtake his mind, Miles takes another deep breath in and exhales loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m on your roof right now,” he tells him, coughing harshly into his elbow at the end.

“The roof?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright buddy, how about you stand on the porch instead? Much more stable than the roof, trust me. My ankle last month can attest to that.”

Miles chuckles wetly, and wipes at his face. “Yeah, okay. You, um, you’re not like… mad at me or anything…?”

“No, buddy, I’m not mad. I told you I knew already, remember? You accidentally told me.”

Miles jumps off the roof and lands safely on the grass, dropping his camouflage and waiting by the front door. He could get away with the cosplay excuse if some random person is nearby and curious enough, hopefully. “I know, I just… I had to tell somebody, and I thought telling you on purpose would make me feel better.”

“Well, did it?” Peter asks him.

Miles thinks of the horrible possibilities his brain was pushing to the forefront of his mind. He thinks of how the rocks in his stomach are waiting for the man to show up and lash out after luring him into a false sense of security. He thinks about the stinging pain in his leg, all to just focus on not drowning in his fears that even he knows are too much and too unrealistic.

“Nah,” he answers, taking in a shaky breath.

“Well… that’s okay, bud. I was scared too.”

“What? Scared of what?” Miles asks, turning around when he hears a familiar heartbeat come closer.

Peter lands softly on the grass and ushers Miles inside.

“It sounded like you were about to confess to a murder, or something,” the man chuckles as he locks the door behind him. “Or… y’know,” Peter makes a weird motion, pointing up then down, so Miles very much doesn’t know.

“Oh,” Miles says, taking a look around the dark living room. “I can’t stay, Peter. I have to go to G. next.”

“You seem really shaken up, are you sure?” Peter asks him. “Are you gonna come out to him too?”

Miles nods wordlessly, and rubs at his face. “Hopefully. He was actually the one I was supposed to tell, so you’re like… practice, kind of.”

Really awful practice.

Something in Peter’s stance and gaze hardens, and every voice Miles was holding at bay started to howl out the very anxiety that created them. This is it , they cry, we told you!

“Miles,” the man begins, and Miles finds himself agreeing with those voices at the steely tone he hears, “when you say ‘supposed to’, is someone making you do this?”

And that’s… a complicated question. One he certainly wasn’t expecting.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks, forcing his shoulders to relax. It doesn’t work, they hike back up the tiniest bit.

Peter sits down at the small dining room table, folding his hands on it in front of him. “Yeah bud, you shouldn’t feel forced to come out to people. If someone’s making you do that--”

Miles stops him right there. “No no no, you’re making it sound really bad. He’s not doing that, I’m just not being… a really great guy right now. Ganke doesn’t like-- he’s actually never liked us being a secret. So, we agreed that I’ll tell G., but I couldn’t… so I’m telling you, so I can say I told someone, and maybe be prepared.”

Peter stares at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “You feel prepared?”

Miles lets out a humorless laugh, “No, no.”

Peter continues staring at him, and Miles briefly glances down to see that he camouflaged again without even noticing.

“I really gotta go,” he mumbles, making his way towards the front door.

“Wait, kid, why not just take a few minutes to calm down? Sit on the c-- actually, sit at the table, don’t get my cushions wet,” Peter walks over and gently places a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a chair. “So, why didn’t this help?”

Miles shrugs, “Iunno.” He supposes it should’ve shown him that nothing bad was likely to happen, but… he knew that. It just didn’t convince all of his brain, apparently. “Hey, we can talk later, I have to get this done tonight.”

“You have a time crunch too? Miles, this doesn’t sound--”

Miles doesn’t really have time for what it sounds like. He knows what it is, what the possible outcomes are if he fails, and… it’s all… none of it makes sense. It clashes, it mixes, it contradicts, it supports each other and the rocks in his stomach. He now knows, with Peter’s reaction, the worst possible outcomes that are at the forefront of his mind aren’t likely, but he can’t do anything about the “what if” that hangs heavy on his shoulders.

What if , a voice speaks up, he’s stalling? What if he’s pretending?

He isn’t, stop it , Miles scowls, and hopes Peter doesn’t think it’s directed at him. Well, it’s not even like he can see Miles, so why was he even worried about that?

Why was he worried about any of this? He should be worried about Ganke feeling hurt by still being hidden from his boyfriend’s family and closest friends, not what Peter, some middle-aged man with an entire life and family of his own, thinks. He should be worried about Ganke feeling like their relationship can’t work anymore, and leaving him for some Barbara who probably exists.

“Kid, are you… angry? You’re buzzing a bit louder than usual,” Peter’s voice from behind asks him.

“Dunno,” Miles mumbles, stepping outside and opening a portal. Peter, fortunately, doesn’t follow.

____

Being on Earth-42 is infinitely more calming than being on Earth-1610B, but somehow also just as stressful.

Miles checks his watch. Forty minutes until 12, but he can work with that. G. is himself, so he’s bound to be painfully aware of the time while he’s out as the Prowler. He’ll understand the urgency for sure.

“Speak of the devil,” Miles mutters when he sees a brief flash of magenta out of the corner of his eye, followed by a rapidly approaching heartbeat.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” G. says with an exaggerated shrug after he lands quietly in front of Miles..

“That joke doesn’t work here,” Miles mumbles.

“Yes it does--”

“Remember that thing I was gonna tell you? On the roof?”

“The thing you didn’t tell me? After freaking out about Barbara?”

Miles frowns angrily at the reminder. “Yes. Listen, it’s really important.” He takes a deep breath, feeling a shiver go through his shoulders and down his spine, and blurts it out, painful as ever. “I’m gay and dating our roommate.”

“Your roommate,” G. corrects, sharp white eyelights widening slightly, and he places his hands on his hips in a way that’s almost scarily reminiscent of their mom. “Is that seriously all you wanted to tell me?”

Miles stares at him, trying to stop the waterworks before they begin and calm the panic that’s rapidly climbing. It’s probably working. The voices that like to talk about how he’s made a huge mistake and won’t wake up tomorrow are strangely quiet, maybe it’s because he’s basically talking to himself?

“Hey,” G. says, sighing, “look, I really don’t care. Good on you. Go home now, you look like you’re about to faint.”

“I don’t get it,” Miles mumbles.

“What’s new,” G. shrugs.

“Shut up.” The playful jab is like poking a hole in a tire, and Miles can feel a tiny part of his mind clearing. “I meant that I expected… worse. Y’know… yelling. Running away. Fighting.”

G. shakes his head and his eyelights flatten into a line as he waves a hand around in the air, looking for the words he wanted to use. “I know. I honestly expected worse too. I’m-- wait, you don’t want me to tell anybody, right?”

The weight that was slowly lifting from his shoulders slams back down, forcing a breath out.

“Taking that as a no,” G. says, “take a few breaths. Think logically about this, man.” G. takes a few steps closer until he’s an arm’s length away. “You could probably beat me in a fight if this went wrong. And if I was the type, I wouldn’t gain anything from telling people that you, a guy who shares my name and appearance, is gay. That would be pretty strange and useless, right? Pretty stupid?”

Miles nods once and swallows hard. His legs are slowly trying to camouflage in messy patches, he notices.

“Don’t go all Swiss cheese on me,” G. chuckles, placing a clawed hand on his shoulder. “I know that just saying ‘I accept you’ isn’t gonna convince you.”

Miles nods again, slowly relaxing his shoulders and resisting the urge to bite at something. That’s one of the things he likes about G., having basically a copy of yourself to comfort you means that they know exactly how you’re thinking, and what would and probably wouldn’t work with way more certainty than anybody else.

“But… why do you think I’m not really surprised?” G. asks, tapping his temple. “Think about it. But don’t hurt yourself.”

Miles’s eyes widen, knowing his lenses are taking up most of his face at this point.

No way.

There’s-- there’s--

“No way,” he breathes out, feeling a sort of warm, pleasant feeling spread through the top half of his body. His hands slowly stop shaking, and he doesn’t feel like the ground is about to collapse under him. “No way!”

G.’s eyelights squint, and Miles hopes he’s smiling.

“But…” Miles remembers G.’s words from earlier, “what about Barbara? You said you liked her?”

The other boy removes his hand, taking a step back and looking around, “Yeah, but y’know how it is. Sometimes you like girls, sometimes you like guys.”

“So you’re… bi?”

“No? I’m-- we’re gay, but sometimes you see a woman and she’s… y’know,” G. elaborates.

Nodding rapidly, the rush of being understood in a way most people would never be able to experience like this flowing through his veins, Miles agrees with a shaky smile. “Yeah, I mean… there’s this-- you remember how it felt meeting Margo, right?”

G. puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head to the sky.

“Right!” Borderline-hysterical laughter coming from Miles shocks them both. “Sorry, I just-- I thought this was gonna go so horribly, I’m just so-- super excited!”

G. nods his head and fidgets with a strap on his jacket, and man, he’s moving around a lot more than usual. Does he have somewhere to be? Probably. Maybe his mom is gonna go to work soon? Those are weird hours though, maybe his Aaron needs something?

“Sorry, again, I’ll just,” Miles holds up his watch with a wide smile, “I’ll let you go.”

“Right, right. Be easy, man.” With that, G. runs past, leaping onto the side of a building and darting up to disappear over the top, leaving a faint pink light trail behind him.

Miles tries to school his expression, but his mouth refuses to drop the smile no matter how hard he tries. His limbs have a sort of lightness to him, and feels like he can run a marathon. Scratch that, several marathons. The electricity in his legs is practically howling at him to start running until he collapses, all out of joy and without the expected crowd of voices telling him how badly he fucked up.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life!

Making sure nobody was secretly watching him, Miles shakes his hands at his sides, running in place. He then kneels down on one knee, and launches himself high into the air, twirling slowly. The air rushes past him, the wind rushing down his body feeling like a hug he’s been missing.

There’s no trace of the overwhelming fear, the anger, or even any sort of begrudging acceptance of a hatred that evidently was never going to blow up in his face. He felt like light was trapped inside his body. Closing his eyes, Miles lets some of it run through his arms and out of his finger tips, creating mini-sparklers on their ends. A quick burst through his legs sends him tumbling higher into the air, and he flails his arms legs wildly, unable to hold in the energy any longer. The flailing lasts a few seconds before he’s rocketing back down to the roof, pressure suddenly returning with the wind. The sparks at his fingers and feet fizz out, leaving light trails in the air.

He’s like a comet as he spins down onto the roof, quickly flipping at the last second to land feet-first instead of cracking his head open on the cement. That would be such an embarrassing concussion.

Landing with a bit more force than he meant to, Miles starts to giggle quietly as leftover electricity spreads from below him and spiderwebs out before fading completely.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out, trying to calm himself. He opens a portal back to his universe, being spat out behind some grocery store, for some reason. He didn’t leave here, why did--

A fast heartbeat and quiet sniffles have him snapping his head to the side, eyes landing on a kid leaning on a wall and crying.

“Hey, you okay?” Miles asks softly, not moving from his spot.

The kid startles hard, eyes wide as he- … um, they, Miles decides on- stare at Miles.

“Y- yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” they say, voice shaky. Miles can see their hands shaking, and even with little moonlight reaching the alley, their eyes shine wetly. One is more closed than the other.

“That a black eye?” Miles asks as he takes a tentative step forward. “Someone punched you?”

The kid crosses their arms and curls in on themself a bit, nodding. “Got jumped.”

“Oh, man. You know them, or…?”

The kid shakes their head, “Just some guys from school.”

Miles’s eyes widen. Guys, as in multiple? “Dang, how many? You look like you ain’t let them do much besides that eye.”

There’s a quiet snort, and Miles internally cheers. “Like, five. Teacher was coming, so they ran.”

“Five? Holy…well, good on you for standing your ground,” Miles laughs quietly, taking a few more steps. “I can walk you home, if you’d like?”

The kid is quiet for a few moments. “Really?”

Miles nods, and realizing it might be too dark, says yes.

“Sure, that would be cool. I’m Kenneth,” the kid says, walking towards Miles.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he replies.

“No way, really?”

They both chuckle as they make their way onto the street, weaving through the few others heading to their own destinations.

“So, why’d they jump you? Was it money?” Miles asks casually, hoping it wasn’t too personal to share.

“Man, I wish,” Kenneth sighs, “they just… they don’t like people like me.”

Racists? Miles turns his head, ready to offer his support, but Kenneth continues, “The way I dress, my hobbies… stuff like that.” Their voice trails off near the end. “They make fun of my designs a lot, threaten to rip all the clothes I make.”

Oh, Miles thinks, feeling even more upset. “You been dealing with that long?”

“Kinda,” Kenneth nods. “I usually win, though.”

Now that they’re walking under the streetlights, Miles can actually make out Kenneth’s appearance. They’re wearing a purple sweater and denim jacket, a somewhat long black skirt, and some sneakers that are so customized that Miles has trouble figuring out the exact type they are. Of course, to top it all off, Kenneth is sporting a busted lip in addition to that black eye. He doesn’t like to think about what else they deal with when they don’t win.

“You said you make clothes?” Miles asks, high-fiving someone passing by.

“Yeah! I-- do you wanna see? I have some pictures on my phone,” Kenneth pulls out a phone with a cracked screen, and Miles looks away until it’s moved closer to his face. “I made these shoes for a friend, this dress, this-- well, I’m actually wearing that jacket right now!”

“Ooh, is that like a jean-skirt deal? I really like that one,” Miles tells them, already getting ideas of figure drawings he could add these clothes too. “You got some real skill!”

Kenneth beams, not even wincing a tiny bit at the pain that the pull on their lip must cause, and thanks Miles.

“I don’t design clothes or nothin’, but I draw a lot too. Artist to artist, you seriously could make a career outta this,” Miles tells him, “don’t let those fools try and convince you otherwise.”

“That’s what my mom says,” Kenneth says, smile softening into something that feels a bit too private for Miles to just be seeing, “I’m glad you’re chill. And that you like my work, this is probably one of the coolest things that’s ever happened to me.”

Miles nods, “No yeah, I’m totally chill.” Wait, that sounds like a lie! “Like, having that type of hate in your heart is just so strange anyway.” Totally saved it! “And your designs have some real character, the creativity you got is crazy, ma-” Shoot! “--my buddy.”

Kenneth laughs at him, “You--” Miles tries to not let his teeth start grinding in embarrassment at the other teen’s laughter, “--you tried, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it. They/them, by the way.”

Miles breathes out a sigh of relief. “Still, sorry, force of habit. Call everyone that, y’know? My bad though,” he stumbles through the apology, “and, uh…”

He’s never had to tell someone his pronouns before. Spider- MAN doesn’t really leave a lot of room for speculation, and he thinks he’s pretty obviously a guy. Well, masculine. Wait, no, because he knows it doesn’t always work like that for people, but… he’d think people would refer to their default when they see him, hear his voice, the name--

“You don’t have to tell me yours,” Kenneth pipes up when he’s been quiet too long. “No pressure or nothing. This is me,” they say, pointing to a brownstone entrance with a woman in just her pajamas sitting on the steps.

“Kenneth!” She cries out, rushing down to embrace the teen in a fierce hug. “Baby, those boys got you again? Oh, come on, let's get inside.”

“Ma, give me a second,” Kenneth whispers, half-heartedly returning the hug as they try to gesture to Miles.

“Did you find them?” The woman doesn’t let go, instead just picking her head up and very coolly glaring at him.

“Yes ma’am,” Miles says, deepening his voice and placing his hands on his hips, “I was worried, so I walked them home.”

“Thank you.” She gives a small, tense smile, and Miles can’t blame her. It is a pretty tense situation!

“Yeah, thanks!” Kenneth’s smile is much bigger and warm as they wave goodbye.

“Buenas noches!” Miles calls before swinging away.

____

Later, as he’s lying in bed, his mind drifts to Kody. He never asked their pronouns, should he have? No, right? That would be putting them on the spot. He didn’t ask Kenneth, he just went based on appearance just like with Kody, and they had offered up that information.

Should he start using they/them for everybody? That way he isn’t unintentionally offending anybody? That would be a lot of work, and he knows he’d mess it up a lot… kind of like being Spider-Man!

Shifting to scratch a scab on his leg, he thinks of how he faltered when he tried to tell Kenneth to use he/him. People always-- well, until recently, he was never seen as anything other than a guy, obviously. He’s pretty manly, his voice is supposed to get deeper, he’s got some nice muscles, and he’s almost taller than his dad. He’s definitely taller than his mom.

He stops scratching his leg and stares at it, bare of any hair.

It’s not like pronouns make the person. And it’s not like shaving doesn’t make him any less masculine. Not that anyone thought that, of course. Nobody even cares about that. Miles doesn't even care about that.

Those kids that jumped Kenneth would probably care , he thinks, they sound like the type to think any small difference deserves a beatdown… what was I thinking about?

Right, pronouns. He should feel more confident using he/him, but there’s some weird, vague hesitation when there should be a brief acknowledgement so casual that it’s barely there. Not a feeling of wrongness per se, but something similar to forgetting what you walked into a room for.

This probably requires a bit more thought than he really wanted to give at this time of night. He did what he had to do, and now he can go to Ganke with the good news, and Ganke will be so happy and won’t leave because Miles is finally being the best boyfriend to him. There isn’t much reason to stay awake any longer.

Miles puts on his headphones and resumes his video, drifting off to sleep.

A/N: lowkey wish i cared enough to figure out how to format the text in the exact way i wanted bc there's a text message part coming up that i put on opposite sides of the doc to make it clear who's talking 💔 anyway... YAY KENNETH !!! They're gonna be appearing more often, and is NOT one of the characters that don't appear again but Miles can't stop thinking about. dw kennethheads miles is the queen of unknowingly befriending trans people and becoming their fav.