"I know that you care, brother. " Thor sounds so desperate.
The presumption burns in Loki's stomach, rolling with disgust and anger, bile rising in his throat. Thor always pretends to know him better than he knows himself, tells him what his thoughts and feelings are, so sure of his own moral high ground; resentment curdles in Loki's veins at the sheer arrogance of him.
"Alas! Wishing for something does not make it so." He affects indifference, playfulness, his steps light like a dance; but his hands itch to wrap around Thor's throat and crush all of that famous strength out of him. He cannot keep all the malice out of his eyes, all the revulsion.
Thor turns the calloused palms of his hands towards the sky and steps forward. "It's not too late for you. To come home. To call me 'brother'. To earn Asgard's forgiveness."
Loki drops his smile like a stone, draws up all of the nausea inside him and channels it into words. "Not too late for me? Thor, it has been ages since it was not too late for you! Since I would have forgiven you, since I would have accepted the appearance of love from anyone in Asgard! I gave up on you millenia ago. Stop trying to put me in my place!" His last accusation is a violent sort of scream, wrenched out of his belly and ripping through his chest and throat, pain and frustration clawing at the insides of him to hurl themselves at Thor.
The result is really lovely. Thor looks as if he has been crushed under the weight of all the realms. His face crumples in confusion, anger, and then anguish. Pain becomes him; he wears it well. Loki has always known this and delighted in it. Used to spend days toying with him, to see how bruises complimented his complexion, the way betrayal curled in his stomach.
"I- I have never thought of you as less, brother..." He looks ashamed as soon as the words leave his lips, his cheeks red with his own lie.
"Truths suit you so much better." Loki's tone is the closest thing to gentle he is willing to bestow on his brother. "Now, leave."
