A potential interaction between Lloyd and Miles Morales has taken over my brain, and I just had to get it out.

(SPOILER ALERT. If you haven't seen Across the Spider Verse yet and you hate spoilers, you may not want to continue.)

The horizon was unfamiliar. There were buildings Miles had never seen before; skyscrapers that would make New York jealous. Glowing signs dotted between the windows, but they were too far away for him to make out what businesses they advertised. The sun was slowly dipping below the skyline, substituting the vibrant blues for shades of red and orange, causing some of the windows to light up in their own imitation of the night sky. It was the kind of natural beauty that made Miles want to paint it onto a wall or into one of his sketchbooks.

But he didn't want to paint. Right now, he just wanted to cry.

Because this was not his home.

This wasn't the first time he'd entered the wrong dimension - first time, he'd ended up in the dimension that the spider that had bit him was from, and he'd come face to face with an alternate version of himself that had turned out to be the Prowler. Even though they were technically the same person, it was clear that his alternate half had hated him, if the fact he'd been knocked out and chained to a punching bag said anything. He'd been able to escape using his bio electric shock, but he'd had no idea on where to go; it still wasn't his home dimension.

Miles had thought that Lady Luck was finally smiling on him when he'd made it a few blocks and miraculously found an open portal, like the ones the Spider Society made with their special watches. Looking back, he probably should have been on the lookout for a Spider person, but he'd been too excited to find a way out to care. Too frantic to escape that messed up reality to consider the fact that it might not be the way home.

And look where he was now. In another dimension, but still not the one he knew.

When he discovered that he'd taken a wrong turn again, something broke in him. He wanted to cry - the tears were starting to become painful in his ducts - but his eyes wouldn't budge. He was so tired. And cold. And hungry. And his left shoulder and arm hurt like hell. He was just so exhausted about everything. The past few days were just too much. He wanted his parents, he wanted the comfort of his room, he wanted to be home.

God... I want to go home.

"Uh, hey - you're in my spot."

Miles jumped and whipped around, mentally cursing himself. He must really be depressed if he couldn't listen to his Spider Sense screaming at him that THERE WAS A PERSON RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Not that this guy appeared particularly threatening: the combination of a large green hoodie and baggy gray pants actually seemed pretty off-putting. Washy blonde hair drooped lazily over half-lidded green eyes, one eyebrow raised suspiciously as he stared at Miles.

The blonde hair reminded him of a certain blonde Spider Woman, which immediately put him on guard.

He didn't look like a Spider person, but Miles knew from experience that they could look like anyone. "Who are you? W-what are you doing here?" He asked, slowly bringing one of his wrists up to defend himself if need be. Then, deciding to be better safe than sorry, "A-are you part of the Spider Society?"

The stranger tilted his head, sending his hair dropping even further over his furrowed brow. "Spider Society?" He asked. He snorted and lifted his arms before gesturing to his baggy frame. "Do you see a spider anywhere on me?" His tone turned dead serious as he added, "No seriously, do you? I am deathly afraid of spiders - I mean come on, what is up with the eight legs?" He made a show of reaching his opposite arm around himself and pulling a corner of his hoodie into view to check for any elusive arachnids.

The display gently warmed the ice, but it didn't completely break it. "And why are you here?" After Miles had realized that he still wasn't in the right dimension, he didn't feel like exploring, so he'd found an abandoned building at the very edge of the city to sit and think for a bit. He'd been doing swell until this guy came along.

The stranger stopped struggling and shrugged, contorting the shadows of his hoodie. "I come up here on occasion," He explained. He nodded over Miles's shoulder to the skyline. "Best view in Ninjago, as I'm sure you can agree - great place to take it all in. Some may argue that the best views are from the skyscrapers, but I say, how can you admire the sky if you're living in it?" He nodded back towards Miles himself. "And that's where I usually sit, which is why I said that you're in my spot."

"Ninjago?" Was the word that Miles latched onto. He had never heard of such a place.

Then again, he'd never even heard of a multiverse until he'd become Spider Man.

"Oh, are you from out of town?" The stranger asked, looking interested.

Miles briefly kicked himself for saying it out loud before making an attempt to salvage the situation. "N-no, I live here! I just... live downtown a ways!"

"Uh-huh..." The stranger drawled with the telltale tone of someone that didn't believe something. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out two soda cans, rotating them so that Miles could see the vibrant labels. "Then tell me what flavors these sodas are."

Miles squinted at the cans, though that did nothing to make the labels make sense. They were in an entire other language - or was it even a language? He'd seen written Japanese and Chinese before thanks to Asian cuisine restaurants around town, but this didn't look like either of them. It looked more like gibberish street art from a wannabe artist than actual words.

The stranger was still staring at him expectantly, so he had to scrape something together. The labels were no help, which meant he had to rely on other clues. The cans were two different colors, the one in his right hand being a metallic green with the other being the darkest red he'd ever seen. "Uh... green apple and..." He tilted his head at the second can. "Black cherry?"

The stranger nodded appreciatively, which gave Miles hope that he'd gotten it right. "Those are the technical flavors, sure," The stranger revealed, slowly squashing Miles's hope. "But the official flavors are actually-" He lifted the green can to eye level. "Green Dragon Crisp and..." He did the same with the red can. "Black Oni Chill. Good try, anyway."

Miles groaned and lowered his head. "So you know I'm not from around here," He admitted mournfully. "What are you gonna do about it - report me to the authorities?"

"Why would I do that?" The stranger asked, sounding genuinely confused. "It's not like you've broken any laws, have you?"

"Not any that I knew of," Miles muttered disdainfully.

The stranger was quiet for a while, long enough for Miles to assume that he'd left. Then a loud sigh filled the air and he lifted his head to see the stranger walking towards him. "Well, in any case, I still need my sunset-soda fix and you look like you need some company," He said wistfully. As he approached Miles, he held out the two cans. "Here. I was planning on drinking them both since I don't really have anyone to tell me otherwise, but you look like you could use a pick-me-up. Pick a soda - any soda."

Miles hesitated before selecting the red can. As the stranger sat down on the ledge next to him, he took the opportunity to note, "You still haven't answered my third question."

The question about his name.

The stranger smirked. "You still haven't told me yours," He replied as he popped open his can; the trademark fizz was quickly cut off as he took his first swig.

"Touché," Miles relented as he popped open his own can and sipped at the bubbles. The soda fizzled on his tongue and filled his mouth with the overwhelming taste of cold, burnt cherries. It was a robust flavor, but Miles found that he didn't mind it as he took another sip.

For a few minutes, the two unlikely acquaintances simply sat and stared at the sun as it dipped further behind the buildings. Stars came out and started to compete with the lit windows for a place in the landscape. The temperature dropped even further and the breeze picked up, hitting the exposed skin on Miles's shoulder and arm, making him shiver and drawing the attention of his drinking buddy.

"Whoa, that's a pretty nasty scratch there," He said as he eyed the deep red gashes. "You get into a fight or something?"

Miles rubbed the injury with his free hand and winced, angry brown eyes flashing across his vision for a split second. "Yeah, but not a very fair one," He admitted bitterly.

"We all have one of those, don't we?" The stranger jested, taking another swig. Miles thought that was the end of it before he spoke up again, "You know why I like this building?"

"Uh... the view?" Miles guessed. Hadn't he described this already?

"Well, that too," The stranger allowed, waving his can at the scenery in front of them. "But also the isolation. This is the older part of town, where gentrification hasn't kicked in yet. The buildings are falling apart, so everyone prefers to stay away for their own safety. It's quiet, it's empty, it's out of the way... it's a great place to think things over. That's why I come up here. Which begs the question..." He turned and locked his deep green eyes on Miles. "Why are you up here?"

Miles stared back at him and offered his own smirk. "I will if you tell me why you're up here."

"Touché," The stranger parroted back at him with a slight chuckle. He stared down the opening of his can before saying softly, "Fine, I'll tell you. I'm a martial arts teacher, and-"

"You? Really?" Miles asked, eyeing the guy's baggy outfit again. He certainly didn't look the part.

"Yes, me!" The stranger objected, looking insulted. He lifted his arms again. "I will have you know, underneath these clothes, I am very ripped!"

"Okay, okay!" Miles yielded, waving his hands in defense while a bemused chuckle bubbled up in his throat. "Alright, so you're a martial arts teacher...?"

"And my students had a test run today," The stranger continued, softening. "One of them got really hurt. It wasn't anything major and everyone, including the kid, says that it wasn't my fault, but I don't know... it still happened on my watch. I still feel guilty about it." He hoisted his soda can. "And I'm technically not supposed to drink the heavy stuff, so, here we are."

It painfully reminded Miles of his own downtrodden mentor, and he instantly felt the urge to hype his new friend up. "Hey, you said it wasn't major, right? And the kid doesn't blame you for it?" He asked, moving his can so he could place his right hand on the stranger's shoulder. "So I wouldn't exactly call it a failure - more like a 'learning experience'."

The stranger gave him a side eye stare before giving a reluctant chuckle. "You sound like my uncle," He said amusedly.

"So you're saying I sound old?" Miles yelled, leaning away from the stranger in mock disgust, even as a teasing smile spread over his face. "What the hell, man - I thought we were really starting to bond!"

"We are - it's a good thing, I swear!" The stranger laughed out loud, his soda can tilting dangerously in his grip. He put both hands around the object to steady it and seemed to calm down. "Anyone should be lucky to be compared to my uncle, in my opinion," He said softly. "He's... he was the best."

Miles knew that tone; it had come out of his own mouth more than once. "Not around anymore?" He took a guess. When the stranger opted for a nod, he gave one of his own. "I get that. I lost mine, too. Not too long ago, in fact."

"Were you close?" The stranger inquired.

Memories of Uncle Aaron surfaced, both good and bad. "Very," Miles decided to answer.

The two sat in silence for a while, presumably relishing the memories of their deceased family members. Then the stranger took the liberty of breaking the tension by huffing loudly and holding out his can. "Well... to great uncles, I guess!" He boasted.

Miles eyed the offering hesitantly, then told himself what the heck and tapped his can against his partner's, making a hollow clunking sound. The two both took swigs from their sodas afterwards, settling into respectful silence again. Then the stranger broke it once more by saying, "Alright, I've given my sob story for why I'm up here - that means you're now legally obligated to tell me yours."

Miles winced, but he couldn't deny it. It was only fair. "It's uh... kind of hard to explain."

"Try me; let's see if I can keep up," The stranger said drily before taking another swig.

It was Miles's turn to stare into the contents of his can. His brain whirled with the events of the past few days, of the past few months, of the past year and a half, trying to put them into a sequence that made sense and also didn't scare the stranger away. This mysterious new friend of his didn't seem to have any knowledge of the mantle of Spider Man, or anything about the Spider Society, but he still felt the need to be cagey with whatever information he dished out.

With these personal restrictions, where could he even start?

Might as well at the beginning - see where this goes.

"It's been... a rough year and a half for me," He started slowly, pressing his fingers against the smooth sides of his can. "I was pulled from my old school on a lottery scholarship and had to leave everything I knew for a school where I knew no one and no one knew me. I watched the city hero die, then unknowingly took up his title. I've had to balance my new job with school and my family... which, mind you, is probably one of the most stressful things I've ever done, and I'm a street artist with a police officer for a dad."

"Wow, so you've really been through the ringer," The stranger noted outside Miles's field of vision.

"You don't know the half of it," Miles agreed before continuing. "I've had a few run ins with bad guys, some really bad, others just annoying. Though the last guy I fought turned out to be more trouble than I gave him credit for..."

"He turned into an inter-dimensional threat?" The stranger asked in a bored tone.

Miles whipped his head up to stare at him. "H-how did you-"

"Just a hunch," The stranger told him before taking another smaller swig. The can had to be almost empty by this point. "Keep going."

The guess had taken Miles off guard, but he shook it off and forged on. "The entire time, I was just hoping, praying that I wasn't alone in all this. That there were others that knew what I was going through." He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and groaned. "Turns out, there are people like me, and it also turns out that they hate my guts."

"That Spider Society you mentioned earlier?" The stranger broke in again.

"Yeah," Miles confirmed with a sigh. "They called me an anomaly; a mistake. They said that I didn't belong in their little club, that I was never supposed to be a hero like them. Which is ironic, because then they actually tried to keep me from going home. Gave a heck of a chase - nearly caught me, too. That's how I got this." He lifted his injured shoulder for emphasis, and the stranger nodded knowingly.

"I was able to get to what I thought was my home, but it turns out it wasn't. Everything was different. People didn't know me, or the me that I am. And..." He recalled the Universe 42 versions of himself and Uncle Aaron, the absolute dead look in their eyes when they implied that they would use him as Team Prowler's punching bag. He'd begged for them to let him go so he could find his way home, so he could save his father, but his alternate self had simply clenched his mechanical fist in his face and asked with no trace of emotion, "Why would I do that?"

Not for the first time, he wondered if that reality could have easily been his own. If his father had died instead of Uncle Aaron, would he have, in his grief, turned to crime? Would he have been so angry at society that he would have become hellbent on destroying it?

Without Spider Man to stop him, would he have succeeded?

"You okay?" The stranger asked gently.

Miles had nearly forgotten he was there. Instead of answering his question, he tried to continue, "I... saw someone I thought I would never see again. And met someone I thought I would never meet. But neither of them were the people I knew." He moaned and put his head in his free hand. "God... I just wanna go home."

But do I even have a home to go back to?

The question hadn't occurred to him yet, but now that it had, he couldn't believe he hadn't considered it before. The Spider Society had seemed pretty dead set on preventing him from getting home. Now that he'd escaped, there was no telling what they would try to pull. They probably had Spider people watching his house at that very moment, waiting for him to show up so they could jump him.

But then what? What would happen if he actually went home? Would the Spider Society apprehend him, or would they go for his parents instead to teach him a lesson? And even if he somehow managed to get home and stopped his father from being killed, what would the Society do then?

His next thought made his blood run cold: Would they kill his father instead to keep the cycle going?

No... they wouldn't... they couldn't! Spider people weren't killers, they were heroes. Miguel was a psycho workaholic, but even he wouldn't go that far.

Peter wouldn't go that far.

Gwen wouldn't go that far.

Wouldn't they...?

All of a sudden, he was startled from his reverie by a loud noise that almost sounded like laughter. He swung his head around to find the source and found it almost immediately: it was sitting right next to him. His drinking buddy was rocking back and forth with an open mouthed smile on his face, large tears pricking at the corners of his squeezed eyes as the joyful noise burst from him over and over again. His blonde hair flew up and down, becoming a crown of jubilantly against the night sky.

But the feeling was far from mutual.

"I'm sorry," Miles said bitterly when the stranger seemed to sober up. "Is my sob story entertaining enough for you?"

"I-I'm sorry..." The stranger apologized between breaths as he tried to steady his lungs. "I-I don't mean to b-be rude, I really don't. It's just... I feel like I just got my entire life story described to me by a complete stranger!"

Whatever Miles had expected for an answer, it certainly wasn't that. "Say what now?"

The stranger huffed a few more laughs before speaking again, "Sorry, let me explain. I didn't have the best childhood growing up. My dad was also well known, but in a bad way."

"He was a criminal?" Miles guessed.

"Like you wouldn't believe," The stranger confirmed, setting his empty can aside. "He wasn't really around much. But he was respected and feared by the people and, well, I guess I wanted some of that. I struck out on my own when I was ten and went on my own little crime spree. Made enemies with a few people, got on their bad sides, and ended up just making a slew of mistakes. Actually got put in life-or-death situations a few times."

"Life-or-death?" Miles asked.

"Let's just say that the inside of a volcano is very toasty," The stranger revealed vaguely. "Anyways, I finally caught a break when it was decided that I would be a hero of the city. I didn't expect to be, and to be honest, I didn't really want to be. And the guys that were assigned to teach me didn't really want me there, either. Often called me a bratty little kid, which I couldn't deny. They often left me alone while they went on their own missions. I hated it, but it wasn't like I could say anything against it. I was just a kid with no real home.

"It took a while for me to gain their trust, but even then, they wouldn't let me do much. You're too young, they'd say. You're not ready, they'd say. It's not your time yet, they'd say. It's our job to protect you, they'd say." He groaned and brought his hands up to rub his temples. "It was so annoying."

Miles nodded in understanding. "They kept telling you how your story was supposed to go," He noted.

"Don't know if you can really call it a story if most consider it destiny," The stranger replied. "I know those guys were just trying to protect me, but I could handle myself even then. I could write my own destiny if they gave me a chance."

Miles finished off his own can before offering his two cents. "Everyone thinks that they know best, and they don't give others a chance to think for themselves. They say that no one can have everything, but how do they know if they don't try?"

"That's what I'm saying!" The stranger agreed, shaking his head against the stubborn stupidity of others. The two fell into silence, having each said their piece. Then, once more, the stranger spoke up softly, "For what it's worth, bud..." He turned and gave Miles an even stare. "I think you're doing a great job as a hero."

Miles's breathing hitched against the compliment, but he tried to play it off with a scoff. "You don't have to lie to me," He said.

"I'm not!" The stranger protested gently, his blonde hair swaying with his shaking head. "You didn't want to be a hero, but you took up the title anyway, and hundreds are now safe thanks to you. You're doing the best you can against all odds, which is all anyone can ask for, and sometimes can't even get.

"And I may not know much about this 'Spider Society'," He continued using air quotes around the name. "But I do know this: they need to get their SHIT together." Miles's eyes widened at the curse, but the rant went on: "You may not have been originally intended to be the chosen one, but you were anyway. That means you're as much a hero as they are, and you deserve to be a part of their little club. Those guys either need to learn how to get that through their heads or forget calling themselves heroes, and I don't think they have the right to do that if they're busy chasing a teenager, one who's just trying to get home, around like he's some kind of wild animal!" His eyes seemed slight with green fire. "True heroes are better than that!"

Miles was stunned into speechlessness. As long as he'd known about the Spider Society, no one had ever spoken bad about it. Everyone he'd ever met from the society had said something along the lines of "what they did was for the greater good" - well, maybe not Hobie Brown. Even Gwen and Peter, who were supposed to be his best Spider friends, said that it was for his own good while they had been chasing him up the side of a rocket. This person, who he'd literally just met, had listened to his plight and saw the actions of the Spider Society for how he'd seen them: unfair.

No one had spoken against Miguel when he'd given the order to apprehend Miles; no one had defended him. This new friend of his sounded like he would gladly argue against Miguel himself for Miles. And as tears pricked his eyes, he discovered that he greatly appreciated it.

The tears quickly turned from tiny pricks to full on floods, and Miles found himself struggling to keep the pain of the past few days at bay. It bubbled up inside him like the soda fizz, expanding to all of his senses until all he knew was pain. Strangled noises that barely sounded like his own voice escaped from his gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the brick beneath him. He started to shake from his place on top of the building, dangerously teetering one way and then the other. His drinking buddy saw this and placed steady hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him until he was safely secure between two strong arms, a warm presence pressed reassuringly against the top of his head.

"You're doing great, buddy," The complete and total stranger said softly to him. "Don't let anyone tell you any different."

It was there, in the arms of someone he'd met only a few minutes ago, that Miles decided to let himself go. He brought all the pain and stress that had been building up inside of him since he'd become Spider Man to the surface, wailing it into the evening air without a care in the world about who heard. The dam had been broken, and he didn't want to know what would happen if he'd tried to build it up again.

Either a few minutes or a few hours passed before Miles felt tired enough to calm down, his sobs dispersing into tiny gasps. The entire time, the stranger hadn't dared to let him go, rubbing slow circles onto his back and shoulders.

They fell into one last comfortable silence, simply listening to the sounds of the night. This time, though, it was Miles who decided to break it. "Miles Morales," He whispered.

It was a second before his new friend whispered back, "Lloyd Garmadon."

"Nice to meet you, Lloyd."

"Same to you, Miles.

"Lloyd... I wanna go home."

"I think I can help with that."