TRIGGER WARNINGS!
This chapter contains mentions of suicide and self-harm!
If you are not comfortable reading that, skip to the second portion of this chapter, past the "000" or the second horizontal line.
YE HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Adventures with the Midgardian Fool
Chapter 9: Loki
"Ben... I'm pretty sure Elijah is dead..."
I looked on with a bemused expression as Eli lay motionless on the floor. All this had started after Morgan had dared him to down the last half of his extremely large bottle of Sour Apple Pucker, which was as sour as the name implied. Up until then, Eli had been comsuming the vibrant green liquor shot by shot between pieces of birthday cake. With each shot his eyes had become a little more glassy, his words a little more slurred, and his movements a little less coordinated whenever he'd gotten up from his chair. I don't know how he hadn't managed to fall over, or vomit from all that he'd consumed, but after accepting Morgan's challenge, and downing his drink all at once, it came as now surprise when he tossed the empty bottle aside and said, "I think I should stop."
After that, Ben and I collected Eli and Morgan and moved ourselves into the living room, where Chris brought out a bottle of wine and a glass for myself and put on some music, but in all honesty that wasn't the source of our entertainment. Elijah seemed to be in his own little world staring off into space as he sat beside me on his parent's plush sofa whilst Morgan, giggling and very, very drunk, sat with Ben on the love seat beside us. Morgan was all smiles as she played with his beard. When Eli hadn't so much as moved within the course of twenty minutes, Ben managed to get his attention with a few snaps of his fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked him.
Eli's eyes had narrowed as he leaned forward, trying to get his hazy vision to focus. I don't think Ben waving his hand back and forth helped him any.
"... Four?" Elijah answered after several long seconds, holding the side of his head with one hand in another attempt to get his vision to focus.
Two. Ben had been holding up two fingers.
"You're so wasted, dude!" he laughed.
"Oh, no shit!" Eli retorted sarcastically.
For a time, he sat there quietly, occasionally pulling himself together long enough to help himself to a cigar, or go to the restroom. After an hour though, he began shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the sofa. When I asked him what was wrong, he complained that arms and legs were aching, and that he wanted to lay down. I tried pointing out that there was pently of room for him on the sofa to put up his feet and lie down, even if it meant resting his head on my shoulder or lap, but he just shook his head and stated that the floor looked much comfier. And so, he grabbed a pillow, crawled out onto the floor, laid down on his belly, and passed out at around midnight.
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning now, and Elijah hadn't budged from his position on the floor in the time he'd been down there. I prodded him with my foot, trying to get a reaction out of him, and all I got was a light moan and a very loud snore.
"Yeah," Ben said, "I don't think he's gonna be waking up anytime soon."
"Do you think Chris and Lou would mind it if we stayed the night?" I asked.
"Probably not. The problem with that is that Erai's going to want to be able to get ready for work tomorrow night, and I know he's not going to want to drive back the same day, because he's not going to be able to sleep if he does. The question is how do we get him to wake up so we can load his ass into the car?"
"No need. I can just carry him there."
"Are you sure"
"Of course. I've had a little wine, but not so much that I can't function."
Ben nodded, "You think you can grab Morgan on your way out, too?"
Elijah's blue-haired friend was in much the same state as he was; unconscious from the vast amounts of alcohol coursing through her, and curled up at her boyfriend's side. Truthfully, if I wanted to, I could carry both her and Elijah over my shoulder without much difficulty, but in all honesty... I didn't want to. Maybe it had something to do with the discussion we'd had earlier in the evening, but I found myself drawn to Eli as he seemed to be drawn to me. When my Jotun features started to show themselves, I'd panicked at the thought of him screaming and fleeing in terror, demanding that I get out of his sight. Instead, he came closer, curious and intrigued, fascinated by the blue color my hands had taken on. Had I been any other frost giant, Eli would have been killed doing such a thing, but I still marveled at the words he had spoken.
"You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."
Cold hands, warm heart. Only Frigga had ever shown me such genuine kindness and acceptance.
"Am I cursed?"
My blood suddenly began to boil as my mind went back to when I'd first discovered my true parentage.
"No."
"What am I?"
"You're my son."
Lies. The blue skin and markings only a Jotun had prove to me that much.
"What more than that?"
The silence Odin had answered me with had been deafening.
"The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?"
And after that, all was explained; not just that I was a terrifying monster that had no place inside of Asgard, but also the reason why Thor had always been the favorite son; the one Odin had chosen over me, despite his overwhelming arrogance and recklessness.
"Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"
"You were an innocent child."
"No, you took me for a purpose. What was it?" The bout of silence that followed that ignited my desperation for the answers I sought, "Tell me!"
"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, and bring about permanent peace, through you... But those plans no longer matter."
Odin will never know how much my heart broke at hearing those words. Those plans no longer mattered. I no longer mattered. My only reason for being on Asgard, for being alive at all, was gone. My existence meant nothing, and it was all thanks to my idiot brother; the chosen one.
"So I am no more than another stolen relic; locked up here until you might have use of me?"
"Why do you twist my words?"
I wasn't twisting his words. I just gave light to the truth that'd been hidden from me for over a thousand years. I was no more than a stolen relic, one that served absolutely no purpose now.
"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?"
"You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth."
"Why? Because I'm the monster who parents tell their children about at night?"
"Loki?" Ben's voice pulled me out of my thoughts before my mind could plunge any deeper into them, "You all right?"
I swallowed, unsure of how I should answer him. By all intents and purposes, I was not all right. Those thoughts, that knowlege, made my anger and hatred for Odin and Thor resurface with a vengeance, but mostly I just felt sad, lonely at the realization that my life meant nothing. When I had taken the throne whilst Odin was in the Odinsleep, I realized I never wanted it. Even though I'd been told since I was a boy that I was born to be a king, I didn't want it. I only ever wanted to be equal to Thor, and not just an afterthought.
With all those thoughts and emotions swimming through my head, and with the alcohol in my system, it came as no surprise when I felt tears running down my face as I shook my head.
"What's the matter?" Ben asked, getting up from his seat and sitting beside me, stepping over Elijah's unconscious form in the process.
So much was the matter at this point. I was still a criminal, and my final sentencing would come eventually. My powers were diminishing, trying to prove who I was. Even if everything turned out all right, and I wouldn't be completely stripped of my rank and eternally imprisoned, if that, I would still exist with the knowledge that my life had no meaning or purpose to it other than being the God of Mischief; the only god everyone dreaded getting involved with.
"I guess I just don't understand," I started, my voice breaking pathetically, "I don't get why you all are so accepting towards me. Elijah, most of all. To everyone else, I'm just the Trickster God; a monster, but you guys welcome me and treat me as an equal. I just don't understand why."
Ben slung an arm around my shoulder and smiled.
"I'll admit, you are kind of a douche at times," he said, "But all around you're not a bad person. You just kind of fit in with our ragtag bunch of weirdos."
"And what about Elijah?" I inquired, "Where does he stand in all of this?"
Ben nodded as his eyes looked down at the blond, "I honestly think he has a crush on you."
His words caught me off guard. I wasn't familiar with a lot of Midgardian terms of the 21st century, but "crush" was one I was wholly familiar with. It meant to have feelings for someone; an infatuation. Whether it was truly love was still a mystery to me. Plenty before had had crushes on me, and they always ended the same: fading with time, forcing those people to move on.
"You mean he has feelings for me?" I questioned.
"Believe me," Ben chuckled, "I know how Erai gets when he likes someone, and you seem to make him all kinds of giddy."
"But he says we're just friends all the time."
"And you believe him? That guy is like the king of denial when it comes to liking people. His past relationships have kinda fucked him up in the head, but friends don't look at friends the way Eli looks at you."
I looked down at Eli as he slept, blissfully unaware of our conversation. It'd be foolish of him to fall for a god such as myself, and it would be foolish of me to fall for a mortal like him. It might just be that hair of his, but I'd be lying if I said things didn't seem a little bit brighter when he was around. He made me feel like someone actually cared about me, and gave me some feeling of belonging, instead of feeling as estranged as I did on Asgard. But actual feelings?
"I don't know," I said, "Personally, I don't think I'll ever fall in love, and if I do it most certainly won't be with a mortal like Elijah. I mean, look at him. He's as dull as a pile of unscented handsoaps."
Laughing deep in his throat, Ben shook his head as he looked at me.
"Whatever you say, man, but hey at least you look like you feel a little bit better."
He was right. The tears had dried seveal minutes ago, and I was in a better mood. Much had changed within the first week of knowing Elijah and his friends, and, with a little luck this next year would turn out to be equally as pleasant, if not more so.
Ben managed to rouse Morgan from her drunken slumber while I was forced to carry Eli over my shoulder, which he only responded to with a groan. I could only pray that this wouldn't be the one time he decided to puke. We gathered any belongings we'd brought along with us, left a note of thanks to Chris and Lou, whom had gone off to bed hours earlier, and piled into Eli's car, with Ben driving, Morgan in the seat beside him, and Elijah and I in the back.
As we pulled out of the driveway, Eli's head came to rest upon one of my shoulders. As he wasn't buckled into the seat, his position was rather awkward, and looked to be highly uncomfortable, yet he did not wake in the slightest. Time and time again, I tried nudging him off so he leaned against the window, only to have him fall back over after the car had taken a turn, or when the car had bounced just right off of a pothole.
After about the twelfth time of doing this, I gave in. When Eli's head landed on my shoulder again, I laid him down so his head rested easily on my lap. Somehow this evoked a reaction out of him. He stirred slightly, and an arm that'd been dangling off of the edge of the seat came up. His hand wrapped around my inner thigh and squeezed slightly before going limp. A sigh escaped him, and just under his breath I heard him mutter something that made me halt any reaction I was about to give towards the accidental groping.
"Loki..."
The slight commotion was enough to make Morgan turn around in her seat and look at us. Whether it was the alcohol doing it, or her own emotions at play, I didn't know, but the sight of Eli curled up as he was made her expression soften into a melted smile.
"Now that's cute as shit," she mumbled, pulling out her phone, "I gotta get a picture."
Even the flash from the phone's camera wasn't enough to wake Elijah up, and it was blinding.
"I'm thoroughly convinced he's dead," I commented as Morgan turned back around in her seat.
"Yeah, he's gonna be completely out of it until morning."
We reached the apartment at around three o'clock in the morning, and we got out of the car just as we had gotten in; with me carrying Elijah and Ben guiding Morgan out as she swayed and stumbled, still heavily under the influence.
"Should we be concerned that he hasn't woken up at all yet?" I asked gesturing to Eli as I laid him down in the bed.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Ben replied, waving his hand dismissively, "He'll be up later. He'll be hungover, for sure, but he'll be up."
As Morgan and Ben had driven over to the apartment, they left and drove themselves home, leaving Elijah and I alone, and leaving me to turn over my thoughts on the sofa until I too eventually fell asleep.
Nothing ever did come of my discussion with Ben that night, but in the morning Eli did wake up will a nasty hangover. And so did I.
000
Elijah lay sprawled out on the wooden steps of the back door, basking in the light of the early summer sun with a Cheyenne pinched between his fingertips. We had moved into the house he had spoken of in March a little over a month ago now, and the four of us, Ben, Morgan, Eli, and myself, as well as all of the animals, had all settled in nicely. It was a fine place, located out in the country next to a road that didn't even come close to rivaling those of Grand Rapids when it narrowed down to traffic. Going to and from was easy, and it was far more peaceful.
However, I had noticed something off about Elijah's behavior recently. He seemed more withdrawn than usual and more down than he typically was. For a while, I tried chalking it up to a bad night at work, as this had all started when he'd returned home one morning, the whites of his eyes red, as though he'd been crying. But as I time wore on, I realized it was less something that'd recently happened and more something that was going to happen; a date to some tragic event that was fast approaching.
And now it must finally be here. Eli had called in sick to work long before it was even time for him to get ready. He'd been laying in the sun for hours, lighting one smoke after another. He appeared to be less enjoying the fine weather and more focused on trying to keep his emotions bundled. Over all, he just wasn't himself. Morgan was at work and Ben was still sleeping, so I knew if I wanted answers, it'd have to be straight from the horse's mouth.
"Everything all right?" I asked him, managing to find a place to sit on the steps at his side.
Eli's only response was a shake of his head.
"What happened?"
With a sigh, Eli slowly sat up and took a drag from his cigar.
"A year ago today..." he said quietly, "One of my closest friends committed suicide."
All at once, the world seemed to grow a little darker, a little quieter. The way saying those words seemed to sap Elijah of his strength and energy, it was like I was watching him bleed out, and I had not the resources or the knowhow to stop it. And that's exactly how it was; I didn't know what to say or do to help him. On Asgard, suicide was a cowardly way for a warrior to go and forever was a stain upon their legacy. Under any other circumstances, I would have regarded the victim as a weak, lily-livered fool that wasn't worthy of existing within the Nine Realms, but those were not the words Eli needed to hear now.
"I'm very sorry," was all I could say, "If I may... How did they...?"
"She was being bullied a lot in school," Eli explained, "I guess it all got to be too much for her. She... threw herself in front of a speeding car, and died instantly."
I sat there flabbergasted. Sure, I had heard of grizzlier deaths, seen grizzlier deaths, but my situation was different from that of Eli's. I was a warrior. I'd seen countless battles and the horrors of war. I'd held plenty of Asgardians as they drew their last breaths in my arms, and I had also seen the despair suicide wrought; how people seemed to break and fold under the grief of hearing about their loved ones taking their own lives over chosing an honourable death. Being as young as Eli was, he shouldn't have had to go through that.
"I found out through an article on Facebook," he continued, "None of my friends could have bothered to find me and tell me in person. You know, every day I think, 'Why didn't she tell me? Why wasn't she able to tell any of us what she was going through? We were her friends. Why didn't she say anything?'. And then, I think back to my own past, and how I was bullied..."
Elijah trailed off, remaining silent before turning to me and holding out his left arm. In the light of the sun, the pale scars of eight distinct slashes adorned the skin. Not deep, but in the trademark pattern of intentional self-harm. The weather had been so cold for a while that Eli's arms were always covered up by that massive coat of his, and I had never bothered to get close enough to examine them myself that I never saw them.
"... and I remember that I never said anything because I felt there was nobody I could trust. That must've been how she felt; like there was no one she could trust to listen to her and try to make things better. To give her a reason to live."
Eli's voice broke as he bowed his head and buried his face in his knees. I didn't need to see the jerky rise and fall of his back or hear the uncontrollable sniffling to know he was crying. Whoever this friend was, she'd obviously meant a great deal to him, more so than she probably realized. Which was the exact reason why I found suicide intolerable. It hurt more people than the victim could ever guess, it breached borders, it changed communities, and not for the better, and it always left one question eternally unanswered: why?
I rested a hand on Elijah's shoulder.
"You mustn't blame yourself," I said, "She did not die by your hand. You have no right to feel responsible for her death."
My words did nothing to ease the sobs wracking his body. If anything, they intensified as the air was filled with the sound of his whimpering cries.
"You know..." he sobbed, "She messaged me three days before she died... and I ignored her because I felt like I was too busy... and she'd been taking pictures of herself... standing by the road with cars passing by. She did that all the way up until the night she killed herself. You'd think one of us would have taken the hint!"
"Elijah!"
I did my best not to snap as I grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards me. The whites of his eyes were painfully red, and the glittering crystal blue of his eyes looked more like a lifeless navy.
"None of that was your fault," I stated calmly, "How could you have known? How could you have possibly known what she'd planned to do that night?"
Eli dropped his gaze from mine to the boards of the stairs we sat upon, "I could've read her messages..."
"And then what? She might have told you she was hurting and was seeking help, or she could have fed you a lie to make you believe everything was fine. How betrayed would you feel then?" More tears poured from his eyes as he searched his thoughts, and I pulled him against me in a reasuring embrace, "You couldn't have known, Eli. So do not place the burden of blame upon yourself. It is not yours to carry."
Elijah relaxed against me, burying his face into my shoulder as he cried.
"I miss her so much..." he wept.
"I know. I know, but at least she's no longer suffering. She's no longer in any pain."
We remained like that for what had to be an hour before the combination of sobbing and grieving made Eli pass out from exhaustion. I took the liberty of carrying him inside, as leaving him out on the back steps not only looked uncomfortable, but would also have most likely left him sunburnt with the lack of cloud cover in the sky. I laid him down on the couch and settled myself in a nearby recliner, picking up the book I'd been reading earlier, but in all honesty my mind couldn't focus long enough for it to get lost in the pages.
My mind wandered to what Eli had said the first day I'd started living with him.
"I spent most of my life in school being bullied out of a class of one hundred and fifty some odd people."
The image of those scars along his arm haunted me, and I idly wondered what they'd looked like when they'd first been engraved in his skin. Elijah had been bullied. His friend had been bullied. One would forevermore bear the scars as a physical representation of the pain he'd endured, the other now dead and gone. Were humans really so weak that they were so easily torn down by the thoughtless words and actions of a few? Did they really think so little of their lives that they would end them over something so trivial?
"What happened? Silver tongue turn to lead?"
My thoughts came to a halt as Volstagg's words echoed in my ears. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three had always been a constant source of torment for me; never acknowledging my presence unless it was to jest.
"He may speak good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor."
Lady Sif may have believed I'd gone far enough away not to hear her, but I'd heard every word that came from that toxic tongue of hers. Yes, I spoke good of Asgard, and yes, perhaps I could be envious of Thor at times, but that wasn't at all what was on my mind at the time. The six of us could have easily died in Jotunheim that day, not to mention that was directly after a frost giant had touched me and my entire arm had tured blue. That isn't exactly what's supposed to happen when an Asgardian is touched by a Jotun.
So, no, my words were not spoken out of petty jealousy. Thor was arrogant, he was reckless, and he was dangerous.
And then came the time I temporarily took the throne in Odin's stead. I remembered it all too clearly; toiling in thoughts of how Odin may never wake from the Odinsleep, Thor would never return from his banishment to Midgard, and I would be left stranded on a throne I didn't even want. And just before I thought I could at least break down in the privacy of the vacant throne room, here comes Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, barging in with demands of ending their precious friend's banishment. Funny how they couldn't ask the one that was actually sitting upon the throne first. They had to ask for Odin and then for Frigga before they finally settled for talking with me on the matter.
Honestly, it felt good to see Sif glare at me for not getting what she wanted, and being able to do nothing about it, unless she wanted to be executed. Even so, it only proved what I'd believed this whole time. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three weren't any sort of friends of mine. They were Thor's. They wouldn't think to go to such lengths for me, and, if I was being honest with myself, I wouldn't go to such lengths for them.
They were nothing to me. Nothing but bullies, and at realizing that I started to understand the pain Elijah and his friend must have felt; pain that led to self-harm and suicide.
As I began pulling myself out of my thoughts, all the light in the room seemed to be sucked out of existence by a shadow standing near the doorway that led upstairs, making me turn my head. Elijah stood there clad all in black; black jeans, black boots, a black button-down shirt, and a black tie that just barely stood out. It contrasted strongly against his blond hair, but not nearly as much as it did his eyes, which had lightened from that unnatural navy color to an unenthused grey. He had such a crestfallen expression, with his eyes lowered to the floor, and the corners of his mouth lax. I must have been so deep in thought that I hadn't seen him get up from the couch, but I had a feeling I knew why he was dressed in such a way.
"I'm going to visit her grave," said flatly, "I'm not sure if you wanted to come along or not."
I thought about it for a moment, "You're not going to start crying again, are you?"
"Probably..."
I thought about it for a moment longer before I stood up from the recliner and shot him a sympathetic smile.
"Best not to make you go alone then."
000
I had heard tales of how eerie Midgardian graveyards could be, but actually walking into one could never be described in mere words. It was like there was no sound; no birds, no wind, nothing. Silence huddled beneath the canopies of the trees like a dense fog, and the sight of hundreds of tombstones sitting side by side, row after row sent chills up my spine. The only comfort that was offered were the golden rays of sunlight that were filtered in through the leaves of the trees, bathing the graveyard in a golden hue.
Eli and I wandered through an ocean of tombstones until I saw his eyes settle on one just a few meters ahead. Had I not really been paying attention, I most likely would have missed it, as it was little more than a small slab of ebony stone jutting out from the ground. Around a half-dozen freshly cut roses and carnations were set on or beside it, a sign that we were not the first to visit her today.
"Looks like everybody else has already come and gone," Elijah stated quietly.
His fingers traced the pale engravings of the tombstone as he knelt down in front of it. As I approached, I could make out the words inscribed on the shiny black surface.
In Memory of
Anna S. Miller
Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend.
"It's hard to believe she's been gone for a whole year," Eli commented, "Seems like only yesterday we were sitting at the lunch table at the high school, talking each other through the bullshit the day had thrown at us."
I nodded acknowledgingly, "What was she like?"
"She was smart. She knew more about algebra and science than I did, for sure. She was eccentric, kind, and understanding with a say-it-like-it-is attitude; the kind of person I could go to with anything without being judged, but still get her honest opinion on the matter. I think that's what made her brave. Being able to voice her opinions and not give a damn about what anyone else thought, but I guess even the brave reach their breaking point eventually."
"I understand," I said, earning a questioning glance from Eli, "I've thought about what you said, back when we first met. I guess I realized that bullies can be just as much of a source of pain as all the problems I was facing. You and your friends and this simplistic life on Midgard made me forget about my own bullies; Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, my brother. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry, for thinking that my problems were bigger than your own."
Eli stood up and smiled as he turned to me.
"Apology accepted," he said, "Though you gotta admit, being a god banished to Earth and saddled with a bunch of weirdos like me, Ben, and Morgan kinda overrules a three year old grudge against some high school punks."
"Still," I piped up, "I remembered how worthless their jests made me feel, and how I know they'd sooner let me sit in a cell and rot than let Thor fall to the same fate."
"You don't have to worry about that now," Eli said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sure that someday, someone's going to hold you so tight, all your broken pieces stick back together."
I felt my heart leap at his words. Elijah never ceased to amaze me with the belief and high regard he held in me. Words that I had only heard from Frigga, seldom heard from Thor and Odin, were now being spoken by a mere Midgardian whom I'd only known a few short months. Despite that, I found myself clinging to each and every word like a lifeline, hoping for more. Hoping to always have it so I wouldn't fall again, and an intriguing thought came to mind. Maybe it wasn't Eli who was crushing on me. Perhaps it was I who was crushing on Eli.
000
DISCLAIMER
Super, mega, ultra huge disclaimers for this chapter!Any and all details regarding "Anna's" suicide are completely false. I would never try to obtain permission from my friend's family to put such personal, sensitive, and upsetting details into my writing for the sack of a fan fiction. That being said the name of my friend as well as how she committed suicide have been completely made up (My most sincerest apologies to any Anna Millers reading this story.)
As far as what is true here, the way I found out about my friend's death is. I was still working as a cashier when I checked my phone and saw that I was tagged in an article on Facebook explaining what'd happened. Not the greatest way to find out about something like that.What is also true is that my friend did message me three days before she died, and every day I regret not reading or responding to those messages.
In other news, my boyfriend and my friend Baphy have decided that they ship "Eloki" or "Lokili"... yes... they've named the ship... pretty sure Baphy is making fan art as we speak.
BlueRaven666