Hey, guys! So this is my first fanfiction. A little Frostiron drabble. Very little.
Warnings for violence and slash. Don't like, don't read.
Everything fucking hurts.
Every fiber of Tony aches to scream, but he won't. It's not a satisfaction he is willing to give. He just stares into green eyes that are far too bright, because he knows they're the last thing he's ever going to see. But the past can be a bitch, especially when you're dying, and involuntarily, everything that is left within him is gathered up and his lips part- only to be stopped.
He will not say I love you.
But he will not look away.
Loki slowly pulls the knife out. Its blade glints a bright red but his shaking hands are darker with the blood of the man lying beneath him. A pause. The knife falls with a clatter as his hands instinctively move to cover the wound, to heal, even as his brain screams that it's no use.
His aim had always been far too good.
He does not blink as he gazes into once warm brown eyes as they quickly fade away. He sees the lips part but is grateful for their silence. He does not need to hear the words held back, anyway.
He will not say I love you too.
And he will not look away.
Let me know what you think! Cheers!
- If The Shoe Fits