Thor frowned in confusion as he sat on Loki's bench. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be getting better, to be healing and moving on, but instead he found himself seemingly back on square one.
"Why does this haunt me, brother? Why do I keep reminding myself that you are never coming home? I think of one thing and it leads me to something we used to do as children. I see your father and I hurt at that image. I will never get to see your face again, and I will never get to do the things we used to do."
Thor frowned and wondered how long his mind would keep jumping from remembering Loki's absence to forgetting about it; because that's what it was. It was not "getting over" the one who died, or really "moving on," it was just not thinking about them. Not thinking about the absence made the pain bearable.
Leaning his head back, Thor shut his eyes and wondered if there was a spell or potion he could drink or have cast upon him to make him forget about Loki.
"Is the pain so bad you would choose to forget about me, brother?"
Thor's eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice. Glancing around, his eyes came upon a silhouette of a man.
"Loki ...?"
"I ... No, sir. I was sent down by your father. You had fallen asleep and it is to be a rather cold night."
Nodding and standing up, Thor walked back inside and went straight to his chambers.
"I had dreamt his voice. But it was so clear ... I felt him."
Shaking his head and resting it on the pillow, Thor began to drift off to sleep; forgetting his brother's absence one again.