nonchalants

“I can’t reach you right now, but I will, I promise.” The words crack as he whispers them ever so slightly, hoping you can still hear his solemn words.

A slight glow appears in his eyes. Is it hope to feel your warmth once again, or fear that he made a promise he may not be able to keep? “Wait for me my darling, please.” He begs ever so politely, almost as if he’s said that before.

He closes his eyes and exhales the last breath he held and focuses. He stops. He waits and slowly opens his eyes, he’s alone in a room he doesn’t belong in, frigid and alone wishing he could just go back a month or two when everything was in its right place, where he finally felt like he belonged. With you.

He wishes he could see his brother and say sorry for everything he’s ever done wrong. A chance to make right for all his wrongs, even if it takes him centuries. But that wouldn’t be him now would it?

That’s not who he was. He’d much rather inflict pain to feel powerful, or betray you because he feels like it. If only he could control time and go back to wherever he wanted… if only he knew how to do it again.

He moves one step at a time and for the first time he’s actually scared. The room is unfriendly and familiar with one exception. There was no one else there to watch him anymore, to keep him in place while he’s being sentenced, and even then he wasn’t this scared. He was for once truly alone.

The atmosphere is strange, an odd feeling, like he’s been there time after time again without actually being there. Almost as if, as crazy as it sounds, another variant has been there time after time again. That can’t be true though, right?

“What happened here?” He asks himself quietly as he looks around the destruction of the room. Was there a fight here? Why is everything out of place, out of order?

"Time is what happened…”

He stops everything he’s doing, not that it was much apart from breathing intensely and looking side to side for something, anything. Suddenly, he’s not alone anymore.

He looks around slowly, left then right. Nothing. He realises the thing is behind him as he gulps and turns around, forgetting that he is a god. He is powerful but magic doesn’t work here does it? A figure under the broken lights is leaning against the wall with a leg supporting them.

The room gets colder, darker. You can almost see two sets of breath in the air as one breathes normally, slightly heavy, and the other not so much.

“Hello…?” His voice now barely a whisper. He’s not just scared, he’s frightened. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” He's nervous now, not sure what to do with himself as he timidly looks around for the figure. He's still the same old impatient god after all.

The figure doesn’t move, it doesn’t have to.

“This is your fate. You, Loki Laufeyson, God of mischief, prince of Asgard, caused all of this. It’s all your fault.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” He’s quiet. Afraid of the truth, scared of the truth. He doesn’t move a single muscle. The light flickers near the shadow, Loki sees a glimpse of what he once loved.

“No… it can’t be, what have I done?” He takes a step forward, weary of what hides in the dark, “I won’t hurt you, I can’t hurt you anymore. Please, please come out” he’s begging now, he knows what he did, how much of a coward he really is.

“Why on earth would I trust someone like you? You’re selfish and you don’t care about anyone but your goddamn self.”

Anger fills the room. It’s getting hot now, sweat falls off his eyebrows. He didn’t realize the temperature change, but now he's sweating like he’s never sweat before. He steps closer, closing the distance between them ever so slightly.

“Please, how can I fix this? How can I fix you?” He stops, realizing what he’s just said. “No, no, not fix yo-” he gets cut of quickly as he’s pushed backwards.

“Do you ever shut up? I don’t need fixing. I've had time to deal with this but you… you haven’t even seen the worse of it have you? You walked away as I was pleading for you to help, begging for you to even look back. But who am I to fool? It’s you.”

The figure is out of the dark now, exposed, angry. Loki is pathetic, just standing there taking it, looking up at this figure with lost eyes, nothing to say. Maybe it’s because he knows he deserves it.

“You’ve lost yourself. You, Loki, are pathetic and weak.” The figure insults hoping for something back from Loki, this isn’t the Loki they knew.

The Loki they knew would fight back, inflict pain for his pleasure, to feel powerful, worthy. This Loki is soft, gentle, pathetic, and ungodly. Not a Loki at all.

Loki looks up, striaghtening his posture with his lost eyes now becoming certain and reassuring. “You don’t understand, it wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t you, don’t lie to me.”

“A lot has happened since I attacked New York, but I can promise you that this wasn’t me!” Loki is pleading now, afraid but in other ways. This Loki doesn’t lie.

“I don’t understand, I know it was you, stop fucking lying to me!”

“Look at me. Do you know me to ever lie? Have I ever once lied to you?”

“No.”

“Then why would I start now?”

They pause, Loki is holding their hands in his in a reassuring way. They both look at each other, sharing the same look of vulnerability.

Not sure of what to say, they stand in silence looking at each other, and for once the figure sees how warm Loki’s eyes really are. How soft his eyebrows make them look, how his hair is messy with a slight curl to it, the sweat on his face. His eyebrows twitch.

“You may not understand now, but I can show you, I can answer all your questions to the best of my ability. Time is different here, and we have all of it in our hands if you can just trust me. Will you trust me?”

Loki is honest, he’s never really been honest and vulnerable with many people other than Frigga. Oh how he misses his mother. He would kill to just see her one last time, apologise for how she died.

“I don’t know, I can’t Loki. You’ve hurt me in ways you don’t even know, and I don’t want to trust you again.”

“I understand, I do, but I need to show you what I mean. I need for you to understand exactly what I mean. I’m not asking for you to stay after, or trust me after, all I’m asking is for you to let me show you. Let me help you.”

He steps closer, closing the distance that wasn’t really there anymore, and presses his lips to their forehead, “Let me show you, Y/N, please.”