This was inspired by a mix of things. I began it in, what, October, November of last year? The song "Ashes like Snow" by Lily Kershaw was the beginning of this, followed by the ending of the film Remember Me. I hadn't touched the first draft in months, until today. September 9th, 2015. In two days time it is the anniversary of the disaster that took thousands of lives. By the time this is uploaded, it'll be the eleventh.
This is dedicated to the memory of all the WTC workers, visitors, the passengers aboard those hijacked flights, the rescue workers and those at the Pentagon.
FOR FULL EFFECT, PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SONG "ASHES LIKE SNOW" BY LILY KERSHAW WHILST READING THIS.
Agony tore throughout his entire being as he watched pure and utter destruction take form on the skyline of New York. He sank less-than-gracefully to the ground as his legs gave out, his knees connecting roughly with the ground beneath him, scraping the skin through the material of his jeans. His hung open in horror and distress, tears stinging his eyes along.
The ash was still falling. It collected, like snow, on the ground, and had he not have been so close it it, he may have thought that the only off factor was the slightly grey shade. Never would he have thought it was the ashes of such a famous, such a large building, filled to the brim with life, people bustling about, doing their usual day-to-day routines.
Half an hour ago, the South Tower had collapsed. Half an hour ago, one of the Twin Towers had fallen to the ground, leaving rubble and clouds of ash in its wake.
His body felt like led, heavy with shock and grief. Had-had everybody gotten out okay? Was he okay? Was he safe?
He found himself dry heaving into the ground as he remembered the way the Second Tower went down. A large cloud of ash and dust had fired up into the air as the building itself had crumbled, just crumbled, going down as easily as a slinky down stairs. It hadn't seemed real until that point. It had all been a haze, the whole thing was a blur, like a bad dream once you had woken up.
A low whine rumbled from his throat as he thought about the man he loved being inside one of those buildings.
He could practically hear the crackling of the fire attacking the towers in the sky, feel the searing heat radiating from it. He could hear the screams as people dove from the higher floors, praying that it was all a bad dream, that they would lurch awake before hitting the ground. If not, falling was better than burning. It was haunting image that had been seared into his mind. He couldn't hear them, but he could imagine their last words. The "I'm sorry, I love you"'s and the "please forgive me"'s.
He choked on the air he breathed as his phone began to ring. Scrambling for it, he pulled it to his ear as he answered, coughing out a breathless, "Hello?"
"L-Loki?"
The dark haired man sagged in relief, his eyelids sliding shut over his eyes. He was okay. He was okay.
"Loki," Tony breathed again. "I, uh. How-how is your day going?" The question made the young man want to laugh, but he couldn't bring himself to. When Loki didn't answer, Tony spoke again. "I just wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to hear it o-one last time."
Pure, unadulterated terror shot through his body. "What are you saying right now?" he said, words sharp. Frantic. Desperate. "Tony...Tony, please. What are you saying?"
It felt like somebody had shoved a piece of metal through his stomach as a choked sob broke through the phone. Distantly, from the other line, the sound of chaos could be heard in the background. "I," Tony's voice broke, the pitch sky-rocketing. "I love you. I want you to know that. I need you to know that."
"Tony," he said. "Tony. Please. Please, tell me you're joking."
"Loki, could you just...please? I just want to hear it.. It'll be the last..." Tony laughed, a sad sound that lacked the usual warmth. "Tell me you love-"
"Tony, please-" People around him began to scream again as the North Tower began to collapse and the phone went dead. "Tony? Tony!"
He carried on screaming into the receiver, his knuckles white from the tight grip he had on the phone. Someone was tugging at his arm, trying to pull him to his feet but he couldn't move. It was as though there were bricks in his limbs, pulling him down to the ground.
He couldn't move. He couldn't hear the people around him crying and screaming and internally dying because they knew. They knew that they had lost someone. They knew that they would never see someone they loved again.
Loki couldn't say that he believed in the afterlife, but had he, he would have prayed that Anthony Stark went to heaven. He needn't have prayed, he knew that he would. The man had never done wrong and despite his father's billionaire status, Tony was more for the people than the money. He was like an angel in human form.
He was the only person that Loki Odinson-Laufeyson-had. Possibly the only person that he had needed.
Cool dew from the grass beneath him soaked through his thin t-shirt, making his back damp and the fabric of his shirt stick to his smooth, pale skin. He didn't mind, though. He was with Tony and that was all that mattered.
He turned his head to the side, gazing lovingly at the man laid to his right.
Loki's green eyes met warm brown, adoration clear in the sparkling irises. The young man smiled lovingly, his eyes flicking from his lover's face to their hands that laid in between them, fingers tightly intertwined as though Tony was the only thing keeping Loki grounded. He probably was.
"Remember the first time we met?" the other man asked. His nut-brown hair clung to his forehead, wet from either the dew off the grass or the shower he had taken before they had met up.
Nodding, Loki smiled again. "You almost drowned." Then he stopped smiling, an angry scowl twisting his features. "I should have made those boys pay for what they did to you."
Tony had been pushed into a pool at the age of seven, unable to swim with a broken arm and no way to keep himself afloat. Loki had dragged him to the side and helped him out.
A chaste kiss graced the young Brit's lips. "I should be paying them. Without them, I wouldn't have you." The youngest Stark leaned towards his boyfriend, lips brushing the paler boy's again. "I love you, Loki Laufeyson."
He wasn't on the floor anymore. Through his blurred vision, he could see the backs of someone's legs and the ground moving beneath them, lurching with each step that the person carrying him took. Loki had been tossed over a shoulder, sharp bones digging into his stomach uncomfortably.
"Tony," he croaked. Water rolled down his cheeks, leaving track marks in the ash on his skin.
He knelt on the cold, wooden floor of the apartment he and Tony had shared, one of his boyfriend's Iron Maiden shirts hanging limply from his skinny frame.
With shaking hands, he swiped a match stick against the grate on the box, watching it flicker alive with glassy eyes. Loki leant forwards, carefully lighting a tall candle, then a few tea lights, shaking the match until the flame was out. He focused his gaze on a picture sat beside the candle, lip wobbling at the bright smile that lit it up more than the flame ever could.
A dozen lilies and a few white roses sat in a vase on the other side of the photograph, something Loki knew Tony would've scoffed at, but Thor had insisted that Loki take the flowers and he just couldn't say no.
"It's been a month," he breathed, rubbing tiredly at his red, puffy eyes. "Oh my God, I miss you. I miss you so much and I-I wish I could have switched places with you. Why did he have to call you in? W-why did you go?
"I hate him, you know. I hate the fact that your father survived this and you didn't. He was never good to you like you were to him. Like you were to me. You...you were the only one I ever had. Properly, anyway. Thor claims that he'd there but...he isn't. He never fully was. I didn't really need him, anyway. All I need is you," he winced at the mistake. "W-was, you."
He ran a hand through his black hair, tugging mercilessly at the roots as his body started to shake violently with silent, tearless sobs.
"I decided that I'd sing you a, uh, song. Is that okay? I know, it's stupid. But-" Loki laughed bitterly, realising what he was saying. "You wouldn't care. You can't care. You're gone and I'm talking to the air. Why, Tony? Why did you have to leave me?"
Why didn't I tell you I loved you?
"Why did you leave that day?"
Why didn't I stop you?
"I've lost everything."
I lost you.