Cause I'm right here in your arms today
With your fingers you can touch me
I'm your black swan, black swan
But I made it to the top, made it to the top
-Black Swan by Thom Yorke
Tony tries to occupy himself that night. He tries to keep from fretting over the fact that Loki wasn't in English. He tries to keep from replaying their argument in his brain over and over like broken record, to keep from regretting every sentence that left his mouth.
He tries to forget the phone's weight in his pocket, the weight of something just waiting to be explored.
But Tony had never been one for self-control.
He lasts until about midnight. He whips the black object from his pocket without hesitation, before he can change his mind again. Plugging it into Jarvis's hard drive, it takes just a few lines of computer code and less than a minute before he's hacked into the phone's database.
He flips through the phone, finding nothing immediately interesting. He taps the small icon of the camera, flicking through the first few pictures with mild interest. They're of things Loki must have deemed worthy of photographing: snowscapes, a dog in a sweater, headlights at night. All the dates are from within the last two or three months. Although they're pretty, they tell Tony nothing about the boy who took them. Suddenly, the photographs turn darker, more indistinguishable in their subject. There are a few of strangers, both girls and boys. They're taken in unnatural lighting, strange blues and greens and purples casting odd shadows across their faces.
The next photo is different from the others. It's lighter, seemingly outdoors and in the daytime. It's of a boy, several years older than either Loki or Tony. He's very handsome, in a dangerous kind of way, with clear blue eyes and blond hair pushed back from his forehead. His smile is the kind that makes you want to cross to the other side of the street as it passes you by, but you follow it with your eyes just the same. He's got a cigarette between two fingers and a striped shirt.
There's another photo afterwards of the same boy, taken on the same day. In this one he's not smiling, however, and that's when Tony can see just how hollow his face is. His eyes are deep in shadow, and his bones protrude from the angular cheeks. It's the face of someone without a cause, without someone to remind them to take care of themselves.
He flips to the next photo. There's the same boy, wearing the same shirt, with the same outdoor lighting. But this time he's not alone. A familiar pale figure is perched next to him, leaning against a picnic table. His black inkblot hair is blowing in the wind, into his eyes, and he looks like he's halfway to tucking it behind his ears. Tony notices that the other boy has his arm around Loki's waist in a way that's not suggestive of friendship. But the relationship it conveys is less that of a lover and more of a possessor, his fingers hooked in Loki's belt loop.
Tony swallows, becoming uncomfortable. There's another photo afterwards, this time of just Loki. His face is more visible here, hair blowing back behind his ears. Loki's face is hollow, just like the other boy's, so much so that Tony can barely recognize him. He looks sick, darkness rimming both eyes and cheeks just skin draped over bone. He's beautiful, Tony thinks, but in an intangible, unhealthy way. His poison-green eyes glitter out from beneath long lashes, and their intensity is off-putting. He's not smiling, just looking at the camera. There's a bruise on his neck and a scrape on his cheek.
Tony unplugs the phone from Jarvis, turning it off and slipping it into the deepest part of his backpack.
He lies in bed, trying to drift off, but every time he closes his lids, he sees hollow, blue eyes boring into his own.
He doesn't sleep that night.
Dearest readers,
Sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I have had something come up and it was difficult trying to get onto the internet. Plus, I'm being sucked into a vortex of schoolwork (it's around finals for me... eek!) and it's eating up my life.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, and as always to my scrumptious beta, cara-tanaka.
Thom Yorke is the frontman of Radiohead, one of my favorite bands. This week's song is a good one. (But aren't they all?)
Expect a regular update this Friday if I can get to my internet.
All my love,
RagAndBones