Rounding the corner, I found Miles sitting at one of the free desks, propping his head up with his fist and keenly studying the material in front of him. Smiling at such a picturesque vision, I carried my books over to where he was, only then getting a grin in return from my heh, boyfriend. That's such a new and fun, exciting word to say still: "boyfriend". Just rolls off the tongue- I love it.

Putting my hand on Miles's shoulder, I peered down at the book with a good level of curiosity; I hadn't seen him read anything this intently before. "Whatcha' reading?" My eyes widened to see a history book on the prohibition era spread out on the tabletop. It was one of those over-sized history books with lots of pictures and text printed in little font. Miles had it opened to a chapter on 1925, four years before the Great Depression to my knowledge.

On one side of the page was the profile and history of one of New York's most infamous mobsters and serial killers: some guy by the name of Miguel O' Hara. Apparently he was shot in 1925 after kidnapping a female member of a rival gang in the area. His killer had never been caught, but police suspected that the murderer was from the gang, the Spidermen, headed by Venom, who apparently also disappeared in 1925 soon after Miguel's murder. No arrests were ever made, and evidence later proved that Venom was not the murderer. There were no photos of anyone from the Spidermen, only a mugshot and a few other black-and-white pictures of Miguel. I was curious as to why Miles had it turned to this page, but perhaps it was just coincidence. Keeping my hand on Miles's shoulder, I leaned in closer so to read aloud.

"Miguel O' Hara, shot dead on the Hudson River in July, 1925. He was one of the prohibition era's most dangerous mob leaders and prolific serial killers. At the time of his death, he had killed over seventy women in New York, with his last victim being spared due to the timing of a Spiderman gangster. Miguel's body sank into the river and was never recovered."

As I read this, Miles's face grew more and more upset. Well, maybe "upset" isn't the right word. He looked downright angry, and a little remorseful. So much so that when I was about to continue reading he promptly closed the book, surprising me slightly. He stood up and looked me in the eye, more tenderly- yet still with a touch of fury- now. "Miles? What's wrong?" I inquired, cocking my head to the side a tad. His only response was to close his eyes and kiss my forehead, then he grabbed my hand and led me out of the library. I had no idea at the time, and certainly could have never guessed, but something about that article on Miguel really irked Miles. Holding my hand with an iron-grip, he was practically dragging me down the streets towards our apartment, not looking back at me most of the way; I could tell he was off in his own little world somewhere, thinking about things…..

Maybe Miguel reminded him of someone he knew; somebody from his past. I'm sure there was a logical explanation to Miles's abrupt reaction, but I couldn't determine one particular cause. Surely he didn't know the real Miguel…. No, of course not; what am I thinking? That's impossible; Miguel was alive nearly a hundred years ago. Perhaps it has something to do with one of his descendants? The article didn't say if he had any kids or not, but he may very well have, and they may still be here in New York. Regardless, I didn't like seeing Miles like this. This was the first time I've seen him genuinely angry since the first night we met, and while I wasn't the least bit intimidated, I wanted to help him feel better the best I could. I was his girlfriend, after all.

My feet sped up a bit so to match Miles's pace. My other hand reached out to grab hold the arm which was currently tugging me along. He blinked to me as an instinctual reaction and our gazes met again. I forced him to slow down, holding his arm with both hands now.

"Miles? Miles, what's wrong? Are you ok, honey? You seem…. upset." His eyes drifted down towards the ground, almost regretfully so. My hands gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry if my reading that page on Miguel made you mad. I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories like that," I explained. His stare came back up my way once I said this, lingering on my eyes for a moment. He eventually shook his head before stretching his free hand up to caress my cheek. As he did so, he beheld me with such intensity. My eyes began to grow as his lips parted a sliver, like he was going to say something.

He was cut off though by some unexpected and unwelcomed voices suddenly coming out of the shadows. Miles and I blinked to see three tattoo-covered thugs emerge from the darkness of the alleyway. They were smirking and glaring right at us, not bothering to maintain any distance between our small groups. While I quivered terrified inside all of a sudden, Miles protectively wrapped both arms around me while glaring equally as intense as the brutes were back at them. One chuckled, removing the cigarette from his lips as he approached us where we were standing.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? You kids lookin' a little lost now, ain't ya?" I clung to Miles shirt while the other two chuckled again. Miles looked completely unimpressed, though not at all afraid- more so annoyed- by their antics. Another freak stepped forward, eying me up in particular. "She doesn't look like she's from around here. Heh, he does," cue more laugher. I frowned, insulted on Miles's behalf. What's that supposed to mean? You can guess what that meant when this was followed by some racial comments which aren't worth repeating. They mainly had to do with how a man from Brooklyn could get with a "pretty white thing" like me. I should note that all three thugs were themselves white.

While I was mortified and incensed, Miles didn't visibly react to these insidious, disgusting comments; he merely positioned himself in-between me and the creeps, standing in front of me very protectively. Of course this earned him even more nasty, inappropriate comments; I'll leave it up to your imagination as to what they were saying.

Fear turned to all-out rage on my part, however, when one of those bastards made the mistake of calling Miles a racial slur, and a particularly bad one at that. Something suddenly overcame me; I'd never felt anger like this before. My vision went red- like a solid, deep crimson red. I hated them; it was a hatred unlike any other. I think my distain for them was even worse than the men who tried to abduct me that one night. Targeting and hurting me was one thing, but hurting my boyfriend like that? That's when I get mad.

I was so furious, in fact, that my body reacted before my brain had time to catch up. Before anyone knew what I was doing, I hurriedly, irately marched out from behind Miles and over to the man. His eyes grew as large as dinner plates when my hand reached up in the air to slap him across the face- hard. He had this shocked expression, as did his comrades and Miles. But I didn't care; I slapped the hell outta him before yelling at the top of my lungs. "Don't you talk to my boyfriend like that! If you ever call him that again, I'll tear out your goddamn vocal cords!"

Shock immediately transitioned to violent rage, and I was quickly reminded that he was a hundred pounds heavier than me. Wearing a horrendous expression now, the man's hand swung back to hit me in return, and that's when I realized my mistake. Wincing and bracing myself, I shouldn't have been so surprised when Miles immediately intervened. He didn't budge an inch when these freaks were taunting and threatening him, but the second I was in danger he sprang to action and didn't stop.

Just like he'd done before, he seized the man's arm mid-air and twisted it in such a way that this horrible cracking sound echoed through the area. The thug cried out in pain, but unlike last time, his friends didn't run away. Cursing at Miles and calling him all sorts of names, they charged him simultaneously. That terrified me, or it did until I saw that Miles could handle himself against two- albeit muscular- brutes. He made quick work of them, showing off his combat skills and bone-shattering punch. I watched for half a minute before covering my eyes; this was too much carnage for me to handle.

I did learn something else about Miles that night, mind you. He obviously had lots of experience fighting and didn't need a weapon to defend himself or win. I'd never seen anyone fight like that in real life before, only in movies. People didn't fight like that anymore….. Or they didn't know how to. His method of combat was old-school, like a way that today's gangsters had forgotten. He was also strong- like remarkably so. I didn't know anyone who could throw a punch like that….

The whole ordeal did frighten me a little though. I wasn't afraid of Miles- cause of course not, he was just defending me- but I'd never seen so much hand-to-hand violence in my life. It just served as a reminder what a truly risky place this city was, and how I had to be careful when going out alone. But I wasn't alone anymore….

My hands slowly lowered down from my face, and I spotted Miles surrounded by the now three unconscious bodies and breathing heavily. His head gradually turned in my direction, though he didn't move towards me right away. My arms were shaky, my voiced trembled uncontrollably. "Miles….. A-Are you alright?"

Closing his mouth and lowering his eyes a tad, he stepped to me. His face told me that he wished I hadn't seen that; he wished to cover my eyes himself and spirit me away from here if he could. I flinched at his sudden touch on my shoulders; when he witnessed my startled reaction, he frowned and removed his hand. To my surprise, he proceeded to remove his hoodie. My eyes widened as he draped it over my shoulders, making sure the hood covered my head. My god, I loved that hoodie; it smelt just like him… I still could feel his body warmth through it, caressing my skin like his fingers. Once the hoodie was securely on, Miles put a hand on each of my shoulders, staring deeply into my eyes and holding my frame steady. I bet he was trying to comfort me, make me feel totally secure again…

"M-Miles…..?" My lips eventually gasped. His eyes gently closed, and he leaned his forehead in to rest up against my forehead. I could hear him breathe, his lips were so near to mine…. Every cell of me perked up when he opened his mouth, letting the words rest there for a moment. "Never be afraid," he cooed, the number on his wrist instantly decreasing to "5". Staring back into his gorgeous face, both my hands lifted up to press into the sides of his cheeks. His eyes softly reopened, locking onto mine as soon as they did. There we stood, so close to one another and holding each other….. Miles's lips closed while mine opened a sliver. Pressing my palms into his skin, these warm, elated tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I smiled up at him…. Oh, how I smiled. "No, I'll never be afraid of you. It's the exact opposite in fact…..

I don't feel safe unless I know you're nearby."

Ogling me with gigantic, sentimental eyes, Miles beheld me for a solid minute. Then he wrapped both his arms around my waist, coiling them like ivy around me. He dipped me, like the dance move. He shut his eyes again, and I followed suit.

And while maintaining that position, we shared our very first kiss.