Heya, Lunchies! Originally, this story was inspired by Lorde's song, Liability. Maybe give it a listen while you read, It might enhance the experience, or something. Last note, TRIGGER WARNING FOR ATTEMPTED SUICIDE/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. Here we go!
Of course, it was raining. It was just so ridiculously cliché, that Loki could have burst out laughing. But, as Angrboda walked down the garden path, not even looking back, Loki found that the rain was not the only reason his cheeks were wet.
It was better, this way. She had said she never liked him in the first place. She had told him only wanted to be with him for the sake of saying she had a boyfriend, and so that she could get him to pay for things. Pathetic as it was, though, Loki loved her. As she rounded the corner without even sparing him a second glance, he felt his heart shatter.
As bad as the relationship had been, as often as she had screamed at him for trivial things, storming out, and leaving his room in shambles from her temper tantrum, Loki didn't care about her flaws. He wanted to help her work through them. He wanted to be there for her.
But it was too late, now. She didn't even like him as a person, and they were over. There would be no more Loki and Angrboda.
"You're wearing me down." She had told him. "I'm tired of you, and I can't do the things I want to, cause I'm always with you. It was a mistake for us to even be together in the first place."
It was fine.
It was good that she recognized that he was hurting her, and if it made her happier to break up with him, so be it.
After he was sure she wasn't going to turn around, and come back, telling him she'd changed her mind, or that it was all a joke, he miserably trudged into the palace, uncaring of how he dripped rainwater on the floorboards. Without speaking a word to anyone, he went straight to his apartments, and closed the door behind him.
Only yesterday, the two of them had moved back the furniture and danced here, a slow, beautiful waltz. What had changed in just a day? She had been so happy…
In his mind, he could still hear the music he'd enchanted his violin to play, as they had danced, and he conjured up an image of Angrboda.
It was pathetic, really, but he stepped forward with a hopeful smile, as illusion-Angrboda cupped his neck in her hands, and his rested on her hips as they began swaying to the music in Loki's head.
In Loki's head. It was always his head. Illusion-Angrboda disappeared, and Loki collapsed back onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. It was just him, now.
Alone.
It was a funny word, and one that seemed to fit the situation.
The Trickster was startled from his thoughts by a swift rap on the door. Plastering a neutral expression over his features, he got up and answered the door. It was Thor.
Here was something to cheer him up. Every Thursday afternoon, Thor would always take time out of his day to spend time with him. It was typically the highlight of the day, and whether they'd discuss their week, or simply sit in comfortable companionship, Loki always felt a little better, afterwards. The fact that anyone went out of their way for him, was always so very gratifying. It made him feel worthwhile, as if he mattered to someone.
"Hello, Brother!" Thor's eyes were alight with excitement. "I just wanted to know if you wanted anything from Alfheim. The warriors and I are going on a quest to kill a troll, and we shan't be back until late tonight."
Loki blinked in surprise. Had Thor forgotten? Or did he simply not care?
Was Loki a burden to Thor, as well as Angrboda?
Was he holding his brother back from doing the things he loved?
He certainly didn't want that. He wouldn't even mention the day.
Loki wasn't a burden.
"No, thank you." He said in a small voice. "I'm fine. Have fun."
"Oh, I will!" Thor grinned, and bounded off, leaving Loki in his own puddle of misery. Angrboda, and Thor both.
Was he really any use to the world at all?
Loki returned to his bed, fighting tears. Perhaps they both only hung out around him for what they could get from him, and now that something had changed, neither of them wanted him around, anymore.
He was alone. He was worthless.
There was nothing he could do about this. He had always known he was a failure, and this was the most obvious proof of this he'd ever had.
He had known this was coming, really. All summer, he'd been getting worse and worse, and the real shock, here, was how long they both had stuck around him. And now they were gone.
Both of them, leaving himself to wallow in a pit of his own misery.
How selfish he was.
Why must he always make this about himself? He was worthless, obnoxious, an obligation to care for, and he had no reason to continue in his pitiful existence.
He was hurting people.
He was making their lives worse.
Angrboda was right. He really was worthless.
Shuffling to his feet, Loki picked up a dagger from his nightstand, and stumbled into his washroom, wiping tears from his cheeks. Plopping down on the tiles, he made up his resolve.
It was for Thor's good. For the good of everyone who knew him.
It would quick.
He would be nothingness in just a few moments. As he held the blade to his pale wrist, he felt a flicker of fear, but quickly pushed it down. It was better this way.
As the dagger sliced through his flesh, and blood welled up from the cut, dripping out, and rolling down his sleeve, Loki watched it with a detached fascination. There was so much of it. So… so much…
"Oh…" Loki mumbled, before the world tilted sideways, and the tiles rushed up at him.
There was a feeling of warmth, suddenly, as blackness enveloped him, and he closed his eyes with a tiny smile on his face. He would never be a bother, again.
Heimdall rushed into Loki's bedroom, burst through the door, and knelt down next the limp, pale form of the prince, immediately applying pressure to the slice on his frail wrist. "Come on, Silvertongue…" He murmured under his breath, feeling for a pulse on the young man's throat.
A moment passed, before he felt it. Weak, erratic, but Loki still clung to life. Breathing a sigh of relief, Heimdall snatched a washcloth, and tied it tightly around Loki's wrist, which was still gushing blood. Gathering Loki's too-still body in his arms, the gatekeeper carried his precious cargo into the healer's wing, and as the healers began attending frantically to him, he stepped back in relief.
Loki would live.
Heimdall turned on his heel, and marched into the throne room to bear the news.
Loki's eyelids fluttered open, and he glanced around the room in confusion. This wasn't what he had expected Valhalla to look like at all. Or Hel, for that matter. This place looked more like…
Oh.
It was the healer's wing.
He hadn't died, after all.
"Loki!" Frigga's warm hand cupped his cheek, and he flicked his gaze over to her concerned face.
"Mother." He acknowledged in confusion. "What… what happened?"
"Heimdall saw you, and brought you to Lady Eir." Frigga smiled softly. "I am so happy he made it in time… if something had happened, I don't know what I would do, dearest."
"But…" Loki frowned, and tried to struggle into a sitting position, but his head span like a carousel, and he was forced to collapse back against his pillows. "But…" He tried, again. "Aren't you cross?"
"No." Frigga shook her head. "I can only be glad you're safe."
"But I thought…"
Frigga pressed a finger to his lips. "Rest, Love. We very nearly lost you."
"He's awake?" Odin's voice boomed through the room, and Loki looked up to see him rushing to Loki's bedside. "How are you feeling, my boy?"
"…Dizzy." Loki admitted.
"That's to be expected, I suppose." Odin nodded, taking Loki's hand in his own strong, firm ones. "You lost most of your blood."
"That was the plan…"
"Oh, Loki…" Frigga closed her eyes as if to ward off tears. "Loki, we love you very much. Why in the world would you want to leave us?"
"I thought I was a burden…" The Trickster whispered, his eyes shining with tears.
"No, Loki." Odin simply replied, his own eye filled with sorrow.
Two tears slowly snaked their way down Loki's cheeks, as he threw his arms around his father's neck. He was loved. He was cared for, and people wanted him around. He'd been so wrong. He was home, and he would never doubt his family, again.
Welp, there you have it, my lovely lunchies! Loki is wrong. No one is a burden. No one is too much of a liability to live.
Originally, I was going to end this story just after Loki blacks out, but despite all appearances, I am not evil.
Of, course, I must remind you, if you're feeling low, FIND A FRIEND, AND GET HELP. (And I obviously don't mean throw your brother at someone.) People really do care, you're worth it, and it matters. You're on this earth for a reason, okay? Love you all!
TheOnlyHuman.