[ when miguel wakes up, his mental state is a little north of discombobulated: he's not, strictly speaking, a stranger to ending up in different times, it's not something that, normally, just happens to him. sure, there had been the time he'd found himself in peter parker's apartment entirely unbidden, but that was more of a freak occurrence than anything else; every other time he's found himself somewhere and somewhen else, it's been deliberate.
in a sense.
waking up in a whole new bed, in a whole new (actual) house is — it's new. automatically, then, he finds himself asking for lyla.
(silence.) ]
—Lyla. [ again, more forcefully and—
and again, it's punctuated by silence — shocking great — although he thinks he can hear the faint sound of movement from another area of the house. quickly, he weighs up his options: investigate, stay where he is, or—
he eyes the window, just for a moment. climbing out briefly seems like his best course of action until, quite suddenly, he's aware of how abso-shocking-lutely blurry the photos on the wall next to the window are; and he realises, too, how totally unsensitive to light he is and—
right. sure. great. wonderful. no spider abilities.
(new option: possibly dream, possibly nightmare.)
grabbing some clothes from the wardrobe, and his glasses (thanks) — neatly placed next to a glass of water — from the bedside table, he mentally notes that the window option is still there for when he wants to dramatically throw himself out of it in a fit of pique.
(there was something about falling in dreams, right?)
on the landing, he pauses at the top of stairs — the photos are weird, okay — and that's not even touching on the decor, and he thinks, just for a moment, that his subconscious must be on some wild journey to be imagining—
(it reminds him, every so slightly, of one or two of the old twencen movies xina had made him watch, which just makes the knot in his stomach tighten a little more, like he can't decide if he's annoyed, angry, or worried.
or all three.)
—and then he hears a what the fuck from downstairs and whilst he doesn't exactly rush towards the voice, he moves a little quicker, through the lounge, into the kitchen — what the shock year is it supposed to be? — and—
— waking up. (FIVE YEARS LATER SORRY)
in a sense.
waking up in a whole new bed, in a whole new (actual) house is — it's new. automatically, then, he finds himself asking for lyla.
(silence.) ]
—Lyla. [ again, more forcefully and—
and again, it's punctuated by silence — shocking great — although he thinks he can hear the faint sound of movement from another area of the house. quickly, he weighs up his options: investigate, stay where he is, or—
he eyes the window, just for a moment. climbing out briefly seems like his best course of action until, quite suddenly, he's aware of how abso-shocking-lutely blurry the photos on the wall next to the window are; and he realises, too, how totally unsensitive to light he is and—
right. sure. great. wonderful. no spider abilities.
(new option: possibly dream, possibly nightmare.)
grabbing some clothes from the wardrobe, and his glasses (thanks) — neatly placed next to a glass of water — from the bedside table, he mentally notes that the window option is still there for when he wants to dramatically throw himself out of it in a fit of pique.
(there was something about falling in dreams, right?)
on the landing, he pauses at the top of stairs — the photos are weird, okay — and that's not even touching on the decor, and he thinks, just for a moment, that his subconscious must be on some wild journey to be imagining—
(it reminds him, every so slightly, of one or two of the old twencen movies xina had made him watch, which just makes the knot in his stomach tighten a little more, like he can't decide if he's annoyed, angry, or worried.
or all three.)
—and then he hears a what the fuck from downstairs and whilst he doesn't exactly rush towards the voice, he moves a little quicker, through the lounge, into the kitchen — what the shock year is it supposed to be? — and—
it's the kid from the photos.
shock.
alright, miguel. be calm. be calming. be— ]
—Morning. [ that's maybe not it. ]