Disclaimer: I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

An Imagination of My Reality

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Imagination is like the sand of a broken hourglass –

It continues to slip through my finger.

What parts that I do capture are, unfortunately,

The ones I most wish to forget.

And yet, as I struggle to over come this dreary existence,

It seems my mentality keeps this deception as my reality.

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Walking alone to a deserted corridor feels lonesome. Loneliness seems to linger the air. Am I imagining things? Or perhaps it is what my reality tells me. I can not tell which is which. There is this, possibility of a dream, where my creativeness starts to move its own accord. Yes, a bitter sweet invention of a dream scape. However, the longer I remain in this state, the sorrowful I became. I refuse to stay this way. It pains me so much. This pain is a reminder of his existence. Each moment he remained was like a knife to my heart and yet I could not bear the thought of him leaving. And in this moment I suffer. My heart, which I had thought broken before, now shattered, for it was the organ I had failed to listen to during this catastrophe. I had… what had I said? What have I done? To received this? My love for him is nothing but a piece of paper crumpled by his own fist. I hope for his present to be back, I wish for him to look my way, but then again this wish and hope will abandon by him, because of me. I denied believing his very present; I do not know how I came upon him. Perhaps it was the lack of awareness that I came to realized that I had halted to stare on his deep emerald irises, there he was sitting on an old oak thick branches of the tree, on the side of a graveyard.

When I first visit the head stone of my dear friend, I notice nothing of him, talking and pouring a generous amount of the golden liquid of mead to the head stone. Telling a great tales of adventure and politics, when suddenly a cat with black fur and emerald eyes looked my way, curious as to how the cat appears with out me sensing him coming, I reach out my hand to touch and cuddle his head, but he run away. So intent in following the cat that I came to comprehends the situation. I'm lost, and there is no one to ask for direction. Blast it, I thought, curiosity kills the cat, or perhaps it is the other way around. And suddenly I felt a thump on the side of my left foot, and there I saw a jaded colored ball, unexpectedly a young male child appears before me. He was eying the jaded colored ball. I pick it up and offer the ball to him. He slowly approach and reach for the ball. He thanks me, and in return gave his name. "I'm Loki." Never had I expected him to run so sudden. I did not even ask for direction yet, and so I call his name. Trying the words on my own tongue, "Loki, wait!" And there before my eye, a young man with raven lack, porcelain skin and deep emerald eyes stares in wonder at me. "Yes? You call?" he said. I'm so astound that I did not notice him - descending the thick old oak tree. This young man looks the same to the child I had been encountered earlier. Or perhaps my mind playing tricks on me. "You call?" he asked me again. Dumfounded as I was, I began to ask his name again and he nod, giving me a bright smile. Strange as it maybe, but this oddness keeps me company for awhile. We chat a bit, and for an instant my heart fell to his charm and graceful laugh, it was lovely indeed. When the purple swirl of the night comes to peek on us, I bid him farewell and he to me, giving the direction in order for me to find the graveyard.

Every time I visit my dear friend head stone, I always remind myself to accompany the young man in the old oak tree. There, he was taking his usual seat on the thick branch, staring into nothingness. I ponder on his distance stares, it looks sorrowful, as if he is dreary on living. Why? I do not know the answer. One time I inquired if he can accompany me to an adventure, he immediately declined my offer, stating that he can not leave. Giving me a dry smile, my heart clinched, squeezing the air out of my lungs, it sadden me to look and yet I can not help but understand. I fear that he has been weary of my company. I hope not.

A chilly afternoon, I came to visit the graveyard. This moment in time, I decided to firmly insist his very present to accompany me to my great quest. But then again, I failed to do so. He was sitting, however not on the branches but on the grass side of the old oak tree, again he is staring into nothingness. I walk straight to his side, taking my seat near him and offer the same question. His emerald irises cast a glance on my cerulean one, would he accept my offer? Instead of a respond, what he did next startled me. He sits on my lap, touching me with his soft hands, trailing a gentle fingertip on my lips. We gaze each others facial feature, capturing every inches of it. And with out further ado, we kiss, lusting and craving of each others touch without our own knowledge that we both been waiting for this very moment to happen. Spark of light dizzy me, with the clothes out of our way, we manage to reach blissfulness. Looking up on his angelic face, a hint of crimson casting on his cheek makes him more beautiful with the moon light casting an ethereal glow to his porcelain skin, keeping me breathless. I can not fathom a thought of him not on my side, I will go insane the moment it happens and I will not allow such thing. A tear drops on my cheek and I wipe the trace of his tears away. Giving gentle kisses along the way, and a reassuring cares on his cheek. Why so sad? I did not bother to ask him. However, I can not take the thought of his sadness out of my mind. He drew his porcelain leg apart, and I drove in him, slowly, deeply, warmth as well as yearning on my cerulean irises. He responded, savoring every thrust, every inch of me, his pulse quickening, his skin tingling. His release came suddenly, as the chilly breeze of the wind beat against the old oak tree and I cried out his name, and I knew we were meant to be here, in each others arm. After the event, I protective slipped my arms around him, so I could easily steady him within my hold, I restrain my self not to go on a second round, it will exhaust my dear Loki and I fear that he will refuse my proposition and walk away. Out of the gutter I must. Looking so fragile and vulnerable, it swells my heart. I smoothly touch his soft face, kissing his forehead with the tenderness I have. He stirs out of sleep, and now, is looking at me with melancholy. Why are you staring at me that way? Why… I did not ask.

Three days had past, and yet I did not visit the graveyard, due to my obligation as The Crown Prince of Asgard. I needed to leave and prepare for my coronation. I miss Loki so badly, I already told him, that I'm going away, and he happily bid me farewell, giving me his most beatific smile. When I came back, I hurriedly go to the destination of my desire. Along the way, I heard whispers of gossip, curious as ever, I settle my self to listen. One of them, telling a myth regarding about the graveyard, they say that the old oak tree is the door of the spirit world, where spirit drifting into space before approaching their final destination, the other one argue, disagreeing, refusing to believe, stating that it is a door to the other world, where reality and truth lives. One could say that, it was rubbish, I do not believe such tale, it is a lie to amuse one self and so I bid farewell to those grapevine fellow.

Approaching my way to the graveyard was like a cold lemonade refreshment to a heated summer day, it relieves me, giving me the air to breath, I past to my dear friend head stone before ascending my way to his favorite site. To my disappointment, I see no one, I call out his name and still there is no reaction to my action. I seated myself on the side of the old oak tree, wondering when he will come. When the purple swirl appears, the night sky is now on its very glory and still no trace of Loki, I'm suddenly aware of my growing anxiety, fearing that he maybe in danger. Being in the palace and soon to be king, only exceeding my paranoia, and I can not help but sink with it. To my surprise, a voice calls my name, a familiar one. It was him calling, but where? I see no one but me on this hill. Then, in a blink of an eye, there he was stood before me. I did not know that I was holding my breath, and at that moment I release a fair amount of air out of my lungs. And I rash out to hold him, wanting to be with him, that is the only thing I want to do and so, I did. Holding him still in my arms, kissing his forehead is much satisfying as expected, than to command and to role a kingdom. He gaze me in the eyes, there it was again, the sad looks. And so I ask, however, the words stop mid sentence when he suddenly escape out of my grasp. He stares at me with those abandoned emerald gaze, he is saying something but I cannot hear what he is saying, it is because of the vague words that I cannot understand. What is he trying to say? He tried again, and now he is crying, fat tears on his beautiful eyes, clouding its vision. Stop! Why are you crying, and yet I can not voice it out. Why!? I try to reach out, desperate to hold him again, to wipe those tears away. Why can I not reach you out? What is happening? Why am I see-through? My hands are fading. What is the meaning of this!?

"You should wake up. It is already time for you to leave." He said.

What? I stare at him dumbly. And again, he repeated his words.

"Please, wake up. You are not from here…This is a dream. Please, go. . ."

The impact of the words strikes me, as I try to steady myself and think. At a single moment, my world crumbles, engulfing me into darkness, sending me into oblivion. I scream out his name. I pleaded for him to respond and yet, there is no sound. Darkness, it is all ravening black darkness. It is cold, very much cold in here. I knew that in theory, cold did not technically exist – it was simply a word used to describe the absence of heat. However, I knew better of it. Cold was a living thing, a spiteful, insidious little creature that slowly but surely work its way into your bones. I hated the way it seemed to seep in through the heaviest winter clothes, curling its way around the ends of sleeves and up under coats, making my hand feel slick and numb and stiff and cold all at once.

"Hey Thor! Wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

A firm hand is shaking me, I must open my eyes. "It's about time you wake up. What happen?" Steve Roger, my roommate asked.

"Wha – Oh! I do not know. I cannot remember."

And there, I saw my dear friend, oddly staring at me with intensity.

"Who's Loki?"

Without a warning, a tear drops and I abruptly place my forearm against my eyes and said

"Now, I remember."

I remember his lips curving a fine sentence, it says

"Do not erase my existence from your world."

And she smile, a bitter sweet smile. No, no more tears. No true man shed tears, it was a useless and weak display of emotion befitting only a woman, had I not that beat into me enough as child? If there is ever a lesson from my father that I took to heart, it is that emotions are unnecessary and should be considered a weakness. And yet, I did not learn my lesson well for I still have my emotion in me with no regrets. Gazing at the sky, extending my left hands to the wind, reaching you out and hoping for you to hear my words, I love you.

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END…

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