Times Two (Miles 1610/42 Twins)

Chapter (6) Title: Lost in the Crowd

Milo’s POV

The moment the crowd swallowed him, my whole body went cold.

One second he was right there. Same face, same height, same everything, and the next he was gone, dragged away by a wave of backpacks and elbows and people who didn’t even realize the universe had just glitched in the middle of the hallway.

No. No, wait-

I took a half-step toward him like wanting to say something -anything but my mind was blank with shock. My mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Suddenly the hallway had turned into a living wall and I finally snapped out of it. Bodies pressed against me from all sides -as I went spinning sideways trying to keep my footing. The noise was deafening. Lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices overlapping in a chaotic mess of laughter and shouting and “Move!” and “I’m late!” and “Yo, did you see-”

I shoved hard, trying to see over heads, around shoulders, through gaps that closed as fast as they opened. But it was useless. The crowd had its own momentum, its own direction, and I was just another body getting swept along. I caught a glimpse of dark hair, or maybe it was someone else’s. A flash of a hoodie, but half the school wore hoodies. My eyes darted everywhere, searching, desperate, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Where did he go? How did he just disappear?

Someone’s elbow jabbed my ribs. Another person shouted a apology as they pushed pass running down the hall, and I stumbled, barely catching myself against a locker. The metal was cold and solid under my palm, grounding me for half a second before another wave of students pushed me forward.

By the time I broke through the worst of it, the hallway had thinned out. A few stragglers sprinting to beat the bell. A couple kids laughing by the water fountain.

But not him.

Not the kid who looked exactly like me.

I stood there, chest heaving, hands trembling, my bag hanging off one shoulder. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too harsh. The smell of floor cleaner and someone’s overpowering cologne mixed in the air. My sneakers squeaked as I turned in a slow circle, scanning every face, every corner, every shadow.

Nothing.

He was gone.

Like he’d never been there at all.

My gut twisted-sharp and electric, like someone had reached inside and yanked. That sixth sense I’d been ignoring all day roared to life, screaming at me that something was wrong. Not dangerous wrong. Not “someone’s about to jump you” wrong.

Worse.

Impossible wrong.

I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall, needing something solid behind me. My hands were still shaking. I pressed them flat against the cool brick, trying to steady myself, but it didn’t help.

He looked like me.

Not “kinda like me.” Not “same vibe.” Not “could pass for brothers.”

No.

He looked exactly like me.

Same skin tone-that specific shade of brown that came from being Black and Puerto Rican, the same mix I saw in the mirror every morning. Same jawline. Same nose. Same eyes; dark and wide and staring back at me like he’d seen a ghost.

Because maybe he had.

Maybe we both had.

My mind spiraled, grasping for explanations that made sense.

Twins? No, that’s insane. I don’t have a twin. I would know if I had a twin, right? Foster care would’ve told me. Aaron would’ve told me. Someone would’ve said something.

A cousin? Some long-lost relative nobody mentioned?

But even as I thought it, I knew it was bullshit. Cousins didn’t look like that. Not identical. Not down to the exact curve of the cheekbones, the exact shape of the eyes.

Am I losing it? Did I imagine him?

But no, I’d felt the impact when we crashed. Heard his books hit the floor. Seen the shock in his face, the way his mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

He was real.

And that was somehow worse than if I’d imagined him.

The bell rang. Loud, shrill, echoing down the empty hallway like a warning.

I flinched.

My hands were still shaking. I shoved them into my hoodie pocket, trying to hide it, but my whole body felt wrong. Off-balance. Like the ground had shifted beneath me and I was still trying to find my footing.

The kid.

The thought hit me like a punch.

This morning. The way the kid with the glasses had walked up to me like we were friends. Like he knew me.

“Yo! There you are, man.”

Not “Hey, new kid.” Not “What’s your name?”

There you are.

Like he’d been looking for me. Like he’d expected to see me.

Except he hadn’t been looking for me.

He’d been looking for him.

The kid who looked like me.

And then Kendra. In math class. The way she’d stared at me, confused, like something didn’t add up.

“You just… you really do look like someone I know. It’s weird.”

My stomach dropped.

They weren’t confused because I was new.

They were confused because I looked like someone who was already here.

Someone who’d been here first.

Someone who had my face.

“Maldición, (dammit)” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

My mind kept replaying the moment -the crash, the stare, the split second where we’d both frozen like the universe had paused just for us.

I’d seen his eyes up close. Wide. Shocked. Terrified.

Just like mine probably looked.

He hadn’t expected to see me either.

Which meant… what? That he didn’t know about me? That this wasn’t some setup, some prank, some weird test Aaron forgot to mention?

What the hell is going on?

I pushed off the locker slowly, my legs feeling unsteady. The hallway was almost empty now. Just the hum of the lights and the distant sound of a teacher’s voice drifting from a classroom.

But not him.

Not the kid who looked like me.

He was gone.

And I had no idea what that meant.

All I knew was this:

My first day at Vision Academy had just gone from stressful… to something else entirely.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

Something I couldn’t explain.

Something that made every instinct I had every survival skill I’d learned in foster care, every warning sign I’d been trained to recognize screaming at me that my life had just changed in a way I couldn’t take back.

And as the last of the students disappeared into their classrooms, as the silence settled heavy and thick around me, I realized one thing with absolute certainty.

Whoever that kid was, whatever he was, however this was possible…

This wasn’t the last time I’d see him.

Not by a long shot.

Because people didn’t just look like that by accident.

And coincidences like this? They didn’t exist.

Not in my world.

Times Two (Miles 1610/42 Twins)

Chapter (5) Title: Two of the Same

I was late.

Again.

I weaved through the crowded hallway, dodging backpacks and shoulders, my sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Last period started in two minutes, and Mr. Warren did not play about tardiness.

Focus, Miles. Just get to class.

But my mind kept drifting back to last Friday. To the street. To the kid I’d bumped into near Benny’s.

The one who looked exactly like me.

I’d spent the whole weekend trying to convince myself it didn’t happen. That I was tired. That the lighting was weird. That maybe the kid just had a similar build, similar skin tone, and my brain filled in the rest because I was stressed about midterms and patrol and everything else.

People have doppelgängers all the time, right? It’s a thing. A coincidence.

But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. Because it wasn’t just the face. It was the way he moved. The exact tilt of his head when he’d looked back at me. The same nervous energy I saw in the mirror every morning when I was trying to psych myself up for the day.

I’d tried talking to Ganki about it on Saturday. Tried to be casual about it, like it was no big deal.

“Yo, you ever see someone who looks exactly like you?” I’d asked, sprawled across his bed while he demolished some boss in whatever game he was playing.

“Like a twin?” he’d said, not looking away from the screen.

“No, like… not a twin. Just someone who looks like you. Same everything.”

Ganke had paused the game then, turned to look at me with that expression he got when he knew I was dancing around something. “This about Spider-Man stuff?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Miles.”

“I’m just asking hypothetically.”

He’d stared at me for a long moment, then unpaused his game. “Hypothetically, that would be weird as hell and you should probably figure out what’s going on.”

Great advice. Super helpful.

I’d also considered telling my dad, but that conversation would’ve gone nowhere fast. Hey Dad, I saw someone who looks exactly like me, and also fun fact I’m spider-man.

Yeah. Hard pass.

So I’d done what I always did when things got weird: I’d patrolled extra hard, thrown myself into homework, and tried to pretend everything was normal.

I’d even Googled it. “Statistical probability of meeting your doppelgänger.” Turns out it’s rare, but not impossible.

So yeah. Just a coincidence.

A weird, unsettling coincidence that made me chase him through Brooklyn in my Spider-Man suit like a lunatic, but still. A coincidence.

You imagined it. You were seeing things. Move on.

I turned the corner, picking up speed. The hallway was packed, everyone rushing to beat the bell. I sidestepped a group of freshmen, nearly tripped over someone’s open backpack, kept moving.

My spider-sense buzzed faintly in the back of my skull. Not danger. Just… awareness. The usual background hum of too many people in too small a space.

One minute. Come on.

I pushed forward, eyes locked on the classroom door at the end of the hall.

Then my shoelace caught on something.

I stumbled, arms flailing, and crashed hard into someone coming from the opposite direction. Books hit the floor. Papers scattered.

“Yo, my bad-” I started, already reaching down to help pick up the mess.

Then I looked up.

And froze.

It was him.

The kid from the street.

Same face. Same skin tone. Same height. Same everything.

My spider-sense exploded.

Not the usual tingle. Not the sharp warning of danger. This was different. Louder, deeper, like someone had cranked the volume to max and held it there. It screamed in my skull, electric and wrong, like my body was trying to tell me something fundamental had just broken in the universe.

No. No, no, no-

He stared at me.

And I stared right back.

For a second, the hallway noise faded, no shouting, no lockers slamming, no footsteps pounding the floor. Just him. Me. A mirror that wasn’t a mirror.

His eyes went wide. Confused. Shocked. Like he was seeing a ghost.

And I knew-I knew-he was seeing the same thing I was.

This is real. This is actually real.

My mind spiraled, grasping for explanations that made sense.

Multiverse? Did I accidentally open a portal? Is this a clone? Did someone clone me? Is Kingpin back? Is this some kind of magic? Mystic Arts stuff? Am I hallucinating? Did I get hit on the head during patrol and not realize it?

But no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it, the truth was staring me in the face.

Literally.

This kid existed. He was real. And he looked exactly like me.

I opened my mouth, trying to force words out. “Uh-”

But before I could get anything out, someone slammed into my shoulder from behind.

“Move, dude!”

The hallway surged around us again. Loud, chaotic, alive. Students shoved past, rushing to beat the bell. I stumbled back, trying to keep my balance as the crowd thickened.

The kid-my double-took a half-step toward me like he wanted to say something. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Then another wave of students crashed between us.

“Wait!” I lunged forward, trying to push through the sea of bodies. “Wait, hold on-” But backpacks and elbows blocked my way. Someone’s shoulder hit my chest. Another person stepped on my untied shoelace, nearly tripping me again.

“Excuse me-sorry-move!” I shoved harder, desperate, my spider-sense still screaming.

I caught one last glimpse of him -his hoodie, his braids, his wide, panicked eyes, before the crowd swallowed him completely.

“No, no, no-” I pushed forward, craning my neck, trying to see over the heads in front of me.

But he was gone.

Swept away in the flood of bodies heading to last period.

My spider-sense pulsed again, a low, uneasy thrum that settled deep in my chest like a warning I couldn’t ignore.

The bell rang.

And I just stood there, heart pounding, shoelace still untied, staring at the spot where he’d disappeared.

He was real.

The street encounter wasn’t a trick of the light. Wasn’t exhaustion. Wasn’t my imagination.

That kid existed.

And I had no idea who he was. Or why he looked exactly like me. Or what it meant that he was here, at my school, walking the same halls, breathing the same air.

My hands shook slightly as I bent down to tie my shoe.

Two minutes late.

And suddenly, very, very aware I was not alone in this world.

Times Two (Miles 1610/42 Twins)

Chapter (4) Title: First Day, First Collision

The morning hit me faster than I wanted. My alarm went off at 6:30, and for a second I forgot where I was. The ceiling was wrong. The light came in from the wrong angle. The sounds outside were different. closer, louder, more aggressive.

New room. New apartment. New school. Same old me.

I lay there for a minute, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to convince myself to move. The walls were still bare. No posters, no pictures, nothing that said I live here. Just white paint and the faint outline where someone else’s life used to hang. The boxes stacked in the corner felt like they were mocking me. You don’t belong here yet. Maybe you never will.

I’d lived in enough places to know better than to unpack too fast. Get comfortable and you jinx it. That’s how it always went.

But this was supposed to be different. Aaron said so. Aaron promised.

I dragged myself out of bed, stepping carefully around half-opened boxes and clothes I still hadn’t bothered to hang up. My feet hit the cold floor and I flinched. Everything about this place still felt temporary, like I was staying in a hotel that just happened to have my stuff in it.

The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. Strong. The way Aaron always made it.

I pulled on jeans and a hoodie. My armor for the day, and shuffled out into the main room. Aaron was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand like he’d been awake for hours. Knowing him, he probably had been. The man didn’t sleep like normal people.

“You ready for the big day?” he asked, smirking over the rim of his cup.

“No,” I said honestly, grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet. My stomach was too tight to eat anything real. “But here we are.”

He laughed, low and rough. “You’ll be fine. Just… don’t start any fights.”

“I don’t start fights,” I muttered, ripping open the wrapper with more force than necessary.

“Uh-huh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what your last school said.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“Never is.” But he was grinning, and I knew he wasn’t actually mad. Aaron got it. He always got it. That’s why I trusted him. That’s why this whole thing, this apartment, this school, this life, didn’t feel like a complete joke.

Still, my chest felt tight. Vision’s Academy wasn’t like my old school. It wasn’t like any school I’d been to. Kids there had money. Futures. Parents who showed up to things.

I had Aaron. And a backpack full of supplies he’d bought without blinking, even though I knew we weren’t exactly rolling in cash. I didn’t ask where the money came from. I’d learned not to ask questions like that.

“You got everything?” Aaron asked, watching me too closely.

“Yeah.”

“Lunch money?”

“Yeah.”

“Phone charged?”

“Yes, old man. I’m good.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder, feeling the weight of new textbooks I hadn’t even cracked open yet. “I’ll be fine.”

He studied me for a second longer, then nodded. “Text me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

I headed out before he could say anything else. Before he could see the nerves I was trying to bury.

The walk to Vision’s Academy was… loud. Brooklyn always was, but this neighborhood had a different energy than the ones I’d lived in before. Everyone seemed like they had somewhere to be. Like they belonged.

I kept my head down, hoodie up, earbuds in. Music helped. It always did. I let the beat drown out the noise in my head. The voice that kept whispering you’re gonna mess this up, you don’t belong there, they’re gonna know you’re not like them.

The streets smelled like a mix of everything, fresh bread from the panadería on the corner, exhaust fumes, someone’s cologne that was way too strong, garbage that needed to be picked up. I passed a group of guys posted up outside a bodega, laughing loud, and my shoulders tensed automatically. Old habit. I scanned them without looking directly—no colors, no tension, just friends. I kept walking.

A woman pushed a stroller past me, talking rapid-fire Spanish into her phone. An old man sat on his stoop with a newspaper, watching the world go by. A kid no older than ten weaved through the crowd on a scooter, nearly clipping my leg.

“Cuidado, (Watch it)” I muttered, stepping aside.

The kid didn’t even look back.

I checked my phone. Fifteen minutes until first period. I was cutting it close, but I didn’t want to be the kid who showed up too early, standing around like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

When I finally reached the school gates, I paused.

Vision’s Academy looked like the kind of place kids with perfect grades and perfect families went. The building was old but clean, with actual architecture. Stone columns, big windows, a courtyard with benches and trees. Not a chain-link fence in sight. Not like my old school, where everything was concrete and metal detectors.

Students streamed through the gates, laughing, talking, looking comfortable. Like they’d been here forever. Like they owned the place.

I didn’t belong here.

But Aaron wanted this for me. Said it was the best. Said I deserved the best.

So I walked in.

The hallway was already packed. Lockers slammed, voices echoed off the walls, and everyone moved with purpose, like they knew exactly where they were going. I kept my head down, trying to blend in, when someone called out.

“Yo! There you are, man.”

I looked up. A kid with glasses and a Vision’s Academy hoodie was walking straight toward me, grinning like we were friends. He had this easy energy, comfortable, like he’d been looking for me.

I stared at him. “What?”

“Dude, I’m starving.” He didn’t even pause, just kept talking like we were mid-conversation. “I’m gonna hit the cafeteria real quick before first period. You want anything?”

I blinked. “I don’t—”

“Nah, you’re good, right?” He was already backing away, still smiling. “Cool, cool. I’ll catch you later though. See you in class!”

And just like that, he was gone. Disappeared into the crowd like that whole interaction was normal.

I stood there, frozen.

What the hell was that?

He acted like he knew me. Like we’d talked before. But I’d never seen that kid in my life. A weird feeling settled in my chest, something cold and uneasy. I shook it off and kept walking, but the question stuck with me.

Why did he think he knew me?

My first class wasn’t hard to find, thank God for the map they’d emailed me. I slipped into the room early, grabbed a seat in the back corner, and pulled out my notebook. Drawing always calmed me down. Lines, shapes, shadows, things I could control when everything else felt like chaos.

I sketched without thinking. A face. A building. The view from the window. Anything to keep my hands busy.

Students trickled in, loud and excited. They all seemed to know each other. Inside jokes. Casual touches. The kind of comfort that came from years together.

A girl with box braids sat two seats over, glancing at me once before turning to her friend. She leaned in close, whispering something I couldn’t quite catch. Her friend’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to her. They both frowned slightly, like they were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Do you know him?” the friend whispered back, just loud enough for me to catch fragments.

“I don’t know,” the girl said, still staring. “He just looks… familiar, you know? Like I’ve seen him before.”

I didn’t look up, but I felt it. The new kid energy. The curiosity. But this was different -not just judgment. Recognition. Confusion. Like they were trying to place me somewhere in their memory and couldn’t quite figure it out.

My stomach tightened.

“Alright class, settle down and turn

your pages to 143,” the teacher said, walking in like he owned the place. Mr. Hendricks, according to the board. Math.

I closed my notebook and tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting. New school. New people. New everything. I felt like a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box.

“Let’s start with a warm-up problem,” Mr. Hendricks said, writing an equation on the board. “Who wants to come up and solve this?”

Silence.

Then his eyes landed on me.

“How about our new student? Milo, right?”

My stomach dropped. Every head in the room turned.

“Uh… sure,” I said, standing up slowly.

I walked to the board, feeling thirty pairs of eyes on my back. The equation wasn’t hard -basic algebra, but my hand shook slightly as I picked up the marker. I solved it quickly, writing out each step, then stepped back.

“Good,” Mr. Hendricks said, nodding. “Welcome to Vision’s Academy.”

I sat back down, ignoring the stares. My face felt hot.

The girl with the braids leaned over. “You’re good at math.”

“I guess,” I muttered.

She smiled, but there was still that look in her eyes, like she was searching. “I’m Kendra.”

“Milo.”

“I know. Mr. Hendricks just said.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “You just… you really do look like someone I know. It’s weird.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Anyway, you’ll get used to it here. It’s not as scary as it looks.”

I nodded, not sure I believed her. But that cold feeling from this morning was back, settling deeper in my chest.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. Not physically -just mentally. Too many introductions. Too many eyes on me. Too many questions I didn’t feel like answering.

Where are you from? Why’d you transfer? Do you play sports? What does your dad do?

I deflected. Gave short answers. Kept moving.

The cafeteria was massive, nothing like the cramped lunch room at my old school. High ceilings, long tables, actual food options. I grabbed a slice of pizza and a water, then scanned for somewhere to sit.

Everyone was already grouped up. Athletes at one table. Theater kids at another. The smart kids. The loud kids. Everyone had their place.

I found an empty spot at the end of a table and sat down, pulling out my sketchbook again.

The rest of the day blurred together. Teachers talking. Students laughing. Me pretending I wasn’t drowning.

But that feeling kept building. In biology, I caught myself looking over my shoulder. In history, I couldn’t focus on the lecture. My street awareness, the thing that had kept me safe in foster care, in bad neighborhoods, in situations where I had to read a room fast, was screaming at me.

Something was coming.

When the final bell rang before last period, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

The hallways exploded with noise. Students poured out of classrooms like a stampede, shouting, laughing, shoving. I checked the time on my phone.

Two minutes.

“Shoot,” I muttered, shoving my sketchbook into my bag and weaving through the crowd.

That’s when it hit me.

A shiver down my back. Cold. Sharp. Like a warning.

My intuition. My gut feeling. Whatever you wanna call it, flared up like someone had flipped a switch. It wasn’t danger exactly. Just… something. Something big. Something inevitable.

I moved faster, trying to shake it off, but it only got stronger.

The crowd pressed in. Someone bumped my shoulder. Another kid cut in front of me. The noise was overwhelming. Lockers slamming, voices echoing, footsteps pounding.

And then I saw it.

A shoelace.

Untied. Dragging on the floor.

Not mine.

I didn’t see the person coming around the corner until it was too late.

My foot caught.

I stumbled forward, arms flailing, crashing straight into someone. Books flew. My backpack slipped off my shoulder. I barely caught myself before hitting the floor.

“Ah man -sorry!” the kid blurted, reaching out to steady me.

I looked up.

And froze.

He stared back at me.

Same skin tone. Same height. Same face.

Same everything.

Times Two (Miles 1610/42 Twins)

Chapter (3) Title: Trippin'

Mornings in our apartment always start the same way—music in my headphones, sketchbook tucked under my arm, and the smell of Mom’s coffee drifting through the kitchen. The apartment was small, the kind of place where you could hear everything from every room, but it was ours. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, catching dust motes that floated like tiny stars.

Mom was already in her scrubs—navy blue with a pattern of small hearts that she pretended to hate but I knew she loved—tying her hair back into a tight bun. Her dark eyes were sharp despite the early hour, the kind of eyes that didn’t miss anything. She’d been a nurse for fifteen years, and it showed in the way she moved: efficient, purposeful, no wasted motion.

Dad stood beside her in his police uniform, the fabric crisp and pressed, his badge catching the morning light. He was taller than Mom by a head, with broad shoulders and the kind of calm presence that made people listen when he spoke. His radio crackled quietly on the counter, occasionally spitting out codes and addresses that neither of us really understood.

“Eat something before you go, mijo,” Mami said, sliding a plate toward me. Eggs, toast, a small pile of fruit. She always made too much, but I’d learned not to argue about it.

“I am,” I mumbled around a mouthful of toast, grabbing my backpack and trying to look like I had somewhere important to be.

Dad raised an eyebrow—that particular eyebrow that meant he saw right through me. “Tie your shoes, son. Last thing you need is face-planting on the sidewalk again.”

I glanced down. Untied. Again. The laces hung loose like they always did, flapping against the worn canvas of my sneakers.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, crouching to fix them. Mom smiled into her coffee cup, and I caught Dad trying not to smirk.

“He’s been doing that since he was seven,” Mom said to Dad, but loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know how he hasn’t broken his neck yet.”

“Spider-sense,” Dad said dryly, and I felt my face heat up.

But halfway through the knot, a familiar buzz crawled up the back of my neck—my spider-sense. Not danger, just… a nudge. A whisper telling me to move. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, a feeling that pulled at something deep in my chest.

I stood up, laces half-done, that strange sensation still humming under my skin. “Love you! Bye!”

“Miles! Your shoes!” Mami called after me, but I was already moving toward the door.

Too late. I was already out the door.

Brooklyn was loud in the way I liked—cars honking, people yelling across the street, music blasting from open windows. I let my playlist drown everything else out as I walked. Beats thumped through my headphones, and I mentally sketched the fire escapes and graffiti tags I passed. I’d draw them later.

The closer I got to Vision Academy, the more students filled the sidewalks. Some were laughing, some were dragging their feet, some were sprinting like they were already late.

My spider‑sense flickered again—soft this time, like a tap on the shoulder.

Something’s coming today, it whispered.

Not danger. Just… something.

I pushed through the front doors, the familiar smell of floor wax and cafeteria food hitting me at the same time. Before I could take two steps, someone waved at me from down the hall.

“Miles!”

Ganki.

He jogged up, backpack bouncing. “Dude, where were you? I already said hi to you like ten minutes ago.”

I blinked. “Uh… no you didn’t.”

“Yes I did,” he insisted, already turning toward the stairs. “Anyway, we’re gonna be late. Come on!”

He didn’t wait for me to argue. He never did. Ganki was already halfway up the steps, muttering something about a pop quiz.

I frowned. My spider‑sense hummed again, just for a second.

Weird.

But I didn’t have time to think about it. First period was on the third floor, and the bell was about to ring.

Mr. Chen’s math class was exactly as thrilling as it sounds—which is to say, not at all. I slid into my seat in the back row just as the bell rang, my usual spot where I could see the whole room but nobody really noticed me. Mr. Chen was already at the whiteboard, marker in hand, his glasses sliding down his nose as he wrote out a series of equations in his precise, methodical handwriting.

“The derivative tells us the rate of change,” he droned, circling something on the board. The marker squeaked with every stroke, a sound that made half the class wince. “This is fundamental. Pay attention. This will definitely be on the test.”

I opened my notebook and immediately started sketching in the margins instead of taking notes. I drew the way the morning light cut through the classroom windows in sharp geometric lines, the way it caught the edge of Mr. Chen’s glasses, the shadows pooling under the desks. Art was everywhere if you looked for it. Math was just… numbers on a board.

My spider‑sense stayed quiet. Bored, maybe.

Science came next—biology, which was slightly more interesting because at least there were things to look at. Mrs. Rodriguez had us examining cell diagrams projected on the screen, and I found myself genuinely curious about the intricate patterns of mitochondria and cell membranes. They looked almost organic, almost alive, like tiny machines with purpose. I wondered what it would look like to draw them, to capture that sense of movement and function in something so impossibly small.

“Miles, can you tell us the function of the ribosome?” Mrs. Rodriguez called on me suddenly, and I jerked my attention back to the front of the room.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… protein synthesis?”

“Correct. Try to stay with us, please.”

I nodded, turning back to my diagram. The ribosome looked like a tiny factory, all purpose and efficiency. I added some shading, made it look three-dimensional, gave it depth and weight.

History was a blur of colonial trade routes and dates I’d forget by tomorrow. Mr. Patterson had a monotone voice that could put an insomniac to sleep, and the classroom was warm—too warm—with afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. I caught myself nodding off twice and jerked awake both times, hoping no one noticed. By the time the bell rang, I’d filled three pages with sketches and remembered exactly nothing about the British East India Company.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving.

The cafeteria was chaos. Hundreds of students crammed into a space designed for maybe half that many, the noise level reaching almost painful levels. The smell of pizza and mystery meat and industrial-grade cleaning supplies mixed together into something that wasn’t quite food and wasn’t quite anything else. I grabbed a tray—pepperoni pizza, a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips, chocolate milk—and scanned the room for Ganki.

I found him at our usual table by the window, already halfway through his lunch and gesturing wildly at the empty chair across from him like he was explaining something to an invisible audience.

“Yo,” I said, dropping into the seat.

“Finally!” Ganki looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. He was a lanky kid with dark skin and an energy that never seemed to run out. His hair was cut close to his head, and he had this habit of gesturing wildly when he talked, which meant his lunch was always in danger of flying across the table. “Dude, I’ve been working on this new project, right? It’s gonna be sick.”

“Yeah?” I bit into my pizza. It was lukewarm and slightly rubbery, exactly as expected.

“So you know how I found that old circuit board in my dad’s garage?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Well, I figured out how to integrate it with a wireless transmitter. I’m thinking I can build something that tracks electromagnetic frequencies. Could be useful for detecting electrical surges or something. Maybe even tracking power signatures.”

I nodded, only half-following. Ganki was brilliant with tech—like, genuinely brilliant—but sometimes his explanations went over my head. I was more of a visual person. I understood things through images and shapes and colors, not through circuits and code.

“That’s cool, man,” I said, and meant it. “What’s it for?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, grinning and taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “But it’ll be cool when I figure it out. Hey, you should draw something for it. Like, a design for the casing or whatever. You’re good at that stuff.”

“Maybe,” I said, already imagining it. Something sleek, maybe with geometric patterns. Something that looked like it belonged in the future. I grabbed a napkin and started sketching—rough outlines of a device, angular and purposeful. I could see it clearly in my mind, the way it would look, the way it would feel in your hand.

“Dude, that’s already sick,” Ganki said, leaning over to look. “See? This is why you need to do art or design or something. You’re wasting your talent in regular classes.”

“My parents would kill me,” I said, but I kept sketching anyway.

“Your parents would understand if you actually talked to them about it.” Ganki took another bite of his sandwich, mayo squishing out the sides. “My dad’s always saying that people should do what they’re good at, not what they think they’re supposed to do.”

“Easy for him to say. He’s an engineer.”

“Exactly. He did what he was good at.” Ganki gestured with his sandwich for emphasis. “You’re good at art. So do art.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I added more detail to the sketch—a power indicator, some kind of display screen. The napkin was getting crowded, but I couldn’t stop.

“Earth to Miles,” Ganki said, waving his hand in front of my face. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you zone out and draw. It’s like you’re not even here.”

“I’m here,” I protested, but I was still looking at my napkin sketch.

“Barely.” He grinned to show he wasn’t actually annoyed. “Anyway, after school you want to see what I’ve got so far? The circuit board’s actually working now.”

“Can’t today,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “Patrol stuff.”

Ganki’s grin widened. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in slightly. “Let me guess—your spider-sense is already tingling? It’s not even last period yet.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, unable to suppress a small smile. “Could be nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with you.” He took another bite of his sandwich, completely unbothered.

“Just be careful, yeah? That thing with the warehouse last week was too close.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious, Miles. You can’t keep taking these risks.” He said it lightly, but there was real concern underneath. “At least text me when you’re done so I know you’re alive.”

“I will,” I promised.

“You say that and then you don’t.” He shook his head, but he was already accepting it. This was our routine now. “Fine. Go be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man or whatever. But we’re hanging this weekend. No patrol duties, no emergencies. Just us and my new processor.”

“Deal,” I said.

The rest of lunch passed in comfortable silence, the kind you only get with someone you’ve known forever. Ganki kept talking, and I kept sketching, and somewhere in the background, the cafeteria roared on around us.

When the bell rang for last period, everyone spilled into the hallway like a stampede. I checked the time.

Two minutes.

“Shoot,” I muttered, shoving my sketchbook into my bag and weaving through the crowd.

My spider‑sense flickered again—sharp this time, like a warning.

I didn’t see the person coming around the corner until it was too late.

My foot caught on something.

My shoelace—of course—had come undone again.

I stumbled forward, crashing straight into someone. Books flew. My backpack slipped off my shoulder. I barely caught myself before hitting the floor.

“Ah man—sorry!” I blurted, reaching out to steady them.

They stared back at me.

And just like that, my spider‑sense roared to life.

Times Two (Miles 1610/42 twins)

Chapter (2) Title: Milo Davis

“Okay, I think that’s the last box.” I said sitting down the box in the crowded living room.

“Good, I don’t think I could lift another one of those up the stairs.” Aaron replied stretching his back out.

Laughing at the awkward position he was in I said “Old man.”

“I ain’t old, I’m seasoned, there’s a difference.” Aaron, grunting back into a standing position, said, “Imma start pushing boxes into the right rooms, why don’t you go get us something to eat. I think I saw a corner store on the way here.”

Nodding, I grabbed my hoodie and made my way to the open street.

Looking around I could see groups of people walking and laughing with each other. Having the time of their lives. I, for one was never a people person. I was passed ‘round and ‘round in foster care like a hot potato til I came to live with Aaron. He was the only one who could get me to open up and trust someone. So now it’s just us. We had moved to a new apartment in Brooklyn that’s closer to my new school. Vision’s high school or something it’s called. The only reason for me to be going is because it’s the best school in the state and all that other bull. Aaron said that he wanted to give me the best and apparently this Vision place was the best of the best.

“Ah mi amigo, (my friend) what’s good?” the store owner said when I walked in.

“I’m good” I said turning my attention to the menu that was above the counter.

Hmm, the Chicken enchiladas look good.“Can I get two chicken enchiladas to go?”

“Coming right up chico (kid),” the owner called walking to the kitchen. “Alright amigo here you go, and tell your Mama that the Sopa de pollo (Chicken soup) was just what I needed. The owner said, ringing me up.

What is he talking about? Does he think I’m someone else?

Walking out I was thinking about what the shop owner had said when some Estúpido (stupid or idiot) walked right into me!

“Maldición, cuidado. (Dammit, watch it.)” I said harshly.

Jeez can’t this guy see.

Without waiting for him to say anything I made my way back to the apartment.

“Pops, I’m back.” I called into the apartment.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Aaron called back.

Coming into the kitchen I saw him putting up dishes into the cabinet.

So, what did you pick?” Aaron asked turning around.

“I got some chicken enchiladas.”

“Sounds good, dig in.” Aaron said Sitting down at the island.

“So, what do you think so far.” Arron said wiping the corners of his mouth.

Looking up from my food I asked, “what do you mean?”

“You know,” Arron looked around, “what do you think about the new place, new part of the city.”

“Oh, uh it’s good,” I replied shrugging.

Arron laughed. “Come on man, it’s like that? You don’t like it yet?”

Sighing, “It’s just, we just got here, I’m,” trailing off I thought about what would be a good word to explain it all.

“I’m letting it, marinate.” I said finally finishing the sentence.

“Alright,” Arron nodded. “I let it sit too. Take my time”

Nodding I got up clearing the food. “Imma head to bed now.”

“Right, you do have school tomorrow.” Arron stated, helping clean.

Heading to my new room I looked around.

“Man I gotta put all of ‘dis up later after school. "

I dropped onto the mattress—no sheets yet, just the bare fabric—and let out a long breath. The room was dim, the only light spilling in from the hallway where Aaron was still clattering around with dishes. Boxes were stacked like uneven towers against the walls, each one silently judging me for not unpacking them.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling.

New place. New school. New people.

Vision High. Everyone kept saying the name like it was some kind of golden ticket. Best school in the state. Best programs. Best opportunities. Best future.

All I could think was:

Best chance to screw everything up? Best chance to look like an idiot? Best chance to be the weird new kid again?

I turned onto my side, pulling my hoodie tighter around me even though the room wasn’t cold. The city noise outside drifted through the window—car horns, someone yelling down the block, music thumping from a passing car. Brooklyn felt alive in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

What were the kids at Vision going to be like? Rich? Snobby? Too smart? Too loud? Would they look at me and see the foster kid? The kid who didn’t talk much? The kid who didn’t belong?

I sighed and closed my eyes.

Whatever. It’s just school. I’ll deal with it. I always do.

Still, as sleep started to pull me under, one last thought stuck in my mind—quiet, stubborn, and a little hopeful:

Maybe… maybe this place will be different.

Times Two (Miles 1610/Miles 42 twins)

Chapter Title: Miles Morales

I bounced down the halls of Vision Academy heading to my first class, for once on time.

Sliding into my seat I took my notebook out and drew as the rest of the class filed in. Drawing was always one of my ways to express myself in a world of full color and diversity.

“Alright class, settle down and turn your pages to 213.” The teach said walking into class.

Closing my dorm room door behind me I fell to my bed.

“Classes was that bad, huh.” Ganki chuckled not looking from his computer screen.

“It was stressful,” I replied turning over.

“Well you better get going on all those assignments,” Ganki mumbled.

“Oh yeah, what about all yours.” I said getting up.

“Already done.” Ganki snickered.

“What,” struggling trying not to hit my head on the top bunk, I looked towards Ganki’s assignments stacked perfectly next to his messy console. “Not fair, how you get it all done already.”

Jokingly Ganki says, “By using the dark force.”

“Whatever” I sighed pulling out my first assignment.

Since Changing schools last year, I have been finding my way around not seeing my parents everyday. Mami calls everyday. Making sure I have eaten, have I eaten enough, making sure I eat all the major food groups and blah, blah, blah. Man, Moms be tripping sometimes, but I know she’s just worried. Dad comes to see me during his shifts. He even brings me my favorite street tacos from a local Mexican and Jamaican food truck that’s near the apartment.

I even got to know Ganki after he had seen me in my spider suit. He has an older sister, Tessa, who runs a major gaming company out in New York. Ganki plans on becoming a professional gamer at her company, even though he despises the thought of working for her. However, she told him once he graduates he would have one of the top gamer positions at the company.

Seeing Tessa have Ganki’s back and offering him such a high position at her company made me wish I had someone like that too. Someone I could call on when I need them.

I kinda have that.

Thinking of Peter, Gwen, and the other spiders. They made me feel like I was part of a much bigger family, who understood what it felt like to have everything rely on you. Nothing could compare to the way siblings have each other’s back though.

Deciding to take a break I grab my headphones and head for the streets of Brooklyn. Looking around I could see the city bustling with life. All the smells and sights made there way to me. Reminding me of how good it was to grow up in a place full of different people.

Since it was Friday, I headed down the subway to the local store by the apartment I grew up in to get chicken enchiladas.

“Man, I hope Benny’s still open.” Mumbling I turned the corner of the street into a large crowd, pushing me into the chest of a kid that looked exactly like me.

“Maldición, cuidado. (Dammit, watch it.)” The kid said harshly.

Not being able to respond I only stared as he walked away.

There’s no way, it couldn’t be possible.

Forgetting about the chicken enchiladas, I ran after the boy, wanting to get a better look at his face. Coming to the edge of the crosswalk I couldn’t find him. Desperate I ran to the nearest hiding spot to change into my spider suit.

Swinging from building from building, I couldn’t find him. It was liked he had disappeared!

“¿Estoy loco (Am I crazy)?” I sat panting on the ledge of a building overlooking the city. No matter how hard or long I looked it was useless. Not feeling up for the ride back to the dorm I thought it would be better to sleep at home.

Climbing the stairs to my floor I unlocked the front door already smelling the delicious food Mami was making.

“Looks like I choose a good time to come home.” I said coming into the door.

“Miles?” Mami questioned peeping into the living room.

Walking into the kitchen I hugged her. “Hola Mami.”

“¿Qué haces aquí (What are you doing here)? Exclaimed Mami.

“Estaba en el barrio (I was in the neighborhood), so I thought I stay here for the night.” I explained. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’re home.”

“Hmm,” Mami nodded, “I was able to get an off day, if you can believe it.

“That’s great, I hope you’ve been relaxing then.” I said even though I knew Mami did anything other then relaxed.

“I did, I cleaned the house, grocery shopped, and I even got my hair done” Mami told me as she headed back to the pot on the oven.

Shaking my head I sat at the island taking in the wonderful smells of the food. I knew dad wasn’t home since he told me he was going to have a late shift earlier.

“So, what are you making,” I asked popping a plantain in my mouth.

“Ah ah, sin cata (no tasting)” Mami said swatting my hand.

Cradling my hand I backed away from the island to get ready for dinner yelling back “Lo siento, siento (I’m sorry, sorry)!”

After Dinner I helped cleaned, then headed to my room. Sliding into my desk chair I turned on the light to ready my supplies to draw before going to bed. I put on some low music to accommodate. I decided to draw Gwen, again. I really missed talking and sharing experiences with her. Gwen was one of the few people I thought who really saw me. For me.

Then my thoughts turned back to the kid I bumped into. Trying to remember what he looked like I started to draw out a sketch.

“I think I remember seeing braids.” I said picturing the side profile I had slightly seen.

Sitting back I looked at the drawing. It felt surreal to see someone who looked like me, but didn’t feel like me. Turning off the lights I headed to sleep. Listening to the calming music and the liveliness of the city helping me drift to sleep.

(this is the first chapter of the Fic! Plz tell me if it is good)

So… I did a thing.

I started making a Miles morales/Milo twin fic. I would love to know how it is and if I should finish it.❤️

I have been scouring tumblr, Pinterest, Wattpad, EVERYTHING, for Miles Morales twin AUs.

It’s not even funny😣

I don’t know what it is but Miles and just the the whole Spiderverse has a whole chokehold on me 😫

Now I’m thinking of just making the whole twin thing myself

You know DIY it I guess😅

I would love ideas about it!

Y’all give me some things you would like to see written and I’ll see what I can do!