Warning, Lunchies! Vali has very self-harmy thoughts in this chapter, and also it's very obvious that he's done self harm before. If that bothers you, please, please take care of yourself. Enjoy!

Vali shot upright, his face stained in tears, a strangled cry dying in his throat.

The nightmares had never stopped. Night after night, he saw the tiny dot that had been the spaceship his father was on go up in flames. The sickening jolt of the ship as it took the first hit from the bigger spaceship. Vali never did know who attacked, until Thor told him, months later. The agonized, fearful face of his father, begging Vali not to forget him. As if it was possible.

With a miserable shudder, Vali sunk back onto his pillows, wiping the tears from his face. Narfi was still snoring, oblivious to the world, and his brother's crushing weight of guilt and grief. Biting his lip hard enough to taste blood, Vali slipped out of bed, and padded on his bare feet out the door. Creeping through the quiet house was a cinch, and he quietly slipped into the bathroom, flicked on the lights, and curled up into a tiny ball behind the door, releasing a small sob of despair.

He hated himself. His father had always taught him not to say words, unless he truly meant them, but it was true. He absolutely loathed… whatever he was. He glanced at the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the opposite wall in disgust. While he still had the face and build of an almost-fourteen-year-old, Vali was as tall as your typical seventeen-year-old, because of the giant blood running through his veins. In Asgard, his abnormal height had him labeled as a freak, and had him targeted for all manner of bullying. On Midgard, it made him stand out everywhere, either ignored, stared at, or laughed at. He pretended he didn't hear them whispering about how disgustingly massive he was, but he did. And it had always stung.

Most of Loki's other children were simply a bit tall for their age, the elvish ancestry balancing out their Jotun. Only Narfi had the same height ratio as Vali, and he didn't understand. He wouldn't. He'd lived most of his life in a place where everyone was tall. He didn't stand out.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. If Vali looked weird, but acted competent, he'd probably be able to handle it. But he didn't. He was just as dumb and useless as he looked. He hadn't even been able to convince his father to let him help fight, or at least escape with him. Now he was in a coma, half-dead, tortured and neglected, and it was all Vali's fault.

Burying his head in his arms, he let another wretched sob escape his lips. He couldn't stand feeling this vulnerable. Typically, he could bury the insecurity and self-doubt and miserableness deep in his subconscious, but on late nights like this, there was only one thing he could do to distract himself.

Shakily, he scrambled to his feet, pulling his dagger out of his pant leg where he always kept it, and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his pale blue arms, already crisscrossed with scars and scabs. Twirling the dagger deftly with his right hand, he pressed the blade to his wrist.

"Vali?"

With a startled jump, Vali scrambled to his feet, holding the dagger behind his back, and throwing a quick illusion over the scars on his arms. Gandhi stood in the doorway, head tilted to one side, blinking in the light. "What are you doing up?" He asked tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Nothing." Vali quickly stated.

Gandhi narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing with that knife?"

Vali's eyes widened in shock, before realizing there was a mirror behind him. Feigning ignorance, he pulled it out from behind his back in confusion. "I don't know."

The younger boy narrowed his brown eyes in suspicion. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm a theatre kid." He announced.

Vali blinked, not understanding.

"I've been in more productions than years I've been alive. I know acting." He continued. "Sometimes, people are really good actors. They can pretend they're doing or feeling something they're not to a scary accuracy. Sleepy is one of those people. If she's in pain, I guarantee, you will not know."

Vali had no idea where his brother was going with this. "…And?"

"You're not like that." Gandhi finished abruptly. "This whole, 'I'm fine, there's nothing wrong' façade? I can see right through it." He hesitated. "That, and I heard you crying."

Vali stiffened defensively. "I don't know what you're talking about." Deftly, he returned the dagger to his pant leg, and tried to edge past Gandhi, to escape back to his room. That was when Gandhi grabbed his lacerated wrist.

Hissing in pain, Vali broke free, holding his arm close to his chest.

"Well, that's not normal." His younger brother noticed.

Vali slumped in defeat, glaring in frustration at Gandhi's skeptical face. "Fine. I'm not okay. Will you please let me go?"

"Well, if you're not okay, absolutely not!" Gandhi huffed, a flicker of frustration passing through his dark eyes. Nodding for Vali to follow him, he started towards the staircase, and Vali found himself tagging along behind. They went into the kitchen, where the younger boy sat on the counter, flicking his wrists. With a flash of soft green light, two mugs of hot cocoa appeared in his hands. "Want some?"

Vali nodded softly, took the warm mug, and sat down on the floor next to the oven.

"So… if you don't want to talk about what just happened, I won't pressure you." Gandhi announced, taking a sip of his cocoa. "I just want you to know that I want to help." He smiled happily.

"Thanks." Vali mumbled. Although a lot of people had told him that, he only knew three that had actually meant it. His father, his mother, and Lady Eir. The latter two were dead, and the former was as good as.

"Music or podcasts?" Gandhi suddenly asked cheerfully.

Vali glanced up in confusion. "What?"

"Well, you were listening to something all day, today." He shrugged. "So, I wanted to know if you were a more music or podcasts kind of guy? Or audio dramas, I guess."

"Music." Vali admitted, watching Gandhi in apprehension. He didn't think the boy was going to actually hurt him, but one could never be too careful.

"Rock or country?"

Vali wasn't sure why his half-brother was asking all these questions, honestly. "Rock."

"Exclusively?"

Silently, Vali shook his head.

Gandhi hopped off the counter, sitting down on the floor, across the kitchen. "Well, give me something to work with, here! What bands, genres, do you listen to?"

"Fall out Boy." Vali admitted. "Imagine Dragons. Lorde. Billie Eilish. Sabaton. Alec Benjamin. Pink."

Gandhi nodded in approval. "What's Sabaton? I haven't heard of them."

Vali shrugged, finishing off his cocoa. "Norwegian metal group. They do songs about historical events. Typically war."

Gandhi nodded. "I'll check them out. Do they sing in Norwegian?"

"Only sometimes." Vali admitted. "But I don't really notice... I'm— I speak it."

"That's awesome!" He enthused. "English, and Norwegian, anything else?"

Vali bit his lip, his eyes trained on the floor. "Elvish. Aiser. Russian. Jotun. A bit of French. But that's about it."

"Where did you learn?"

Vali shook his head. "Why do you want to know? Why do you care?"

Gandhi's eyes widened in confused offense. "I just wanted to get to know you a bit better. You are my brother, after all."

"Half-brother." Vali corrected in frustration. Rising to his feet, he decided he'd had enough. "Why do you care?" He repeated, backing towards the doorway. "You'll just use this to make fun of me like everyone else."

"Me?" Gandhi raised his eyebrows in shock. "But… but I'm nice! I wouldn't hurt a fly, unless it sat on my food!" He stood up, and followed his brother up the stairs. "Hey! Does it matter that I'm your half-brother? I mean, Thor's not even related to you, and you seem pretty comfortable around…"

Vali turned on his heel, glaring daggers into the younger boy's face. "Don't you dare compare yourself to Thor. He was all the family I had these past five years, and I owe him my life. Leave me alone, alright? I don't need any more family. I have Narfi, and Thor will return any day now, and I've got Mama. You just…" Vali found himself unable to go on, from the lump that presented itself in his throat.

Jormungandir was the first person in years who had actually reached out to try to care about him. How could he push his little brother away? It was just like he said. His Father had always pushed Thor away, even though they were adopted brothers. Vali and Gandhi shared blood. They had the same Father. He blinked down at Gandhi's tired, yet concerned face. "I'm sorry…" He whispered. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay." The younger boy smiled. "You're tired, I get it. Can we talk again, tomorrow?"

Something about this kid made him almost impossible to refuse. Vali found himself nodding. "Y-Yeah. Tomorrow."

Gandhi smiled brightly, and wrapped his arms around his older brother, squeezing him tightly for a few seconds, before turning off towards his room. "'Night! Sleep well!"

Vali stood frozen at the top of the stairs, watching as Gandhi slipped into his room without glancing back. He had… hugged him.

Nobody had hugged Vali since his Father died.

It was a strange feeling, but one that was truly welcome.

I just want to reiterate how amazing my editor is. She is simply the best. :D

And, of course, all of you are, too.

TheOnlyHuman.