Note: Hello! Sorry, this story has been finished for three years now but I always forget to update it here!
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Reviews are always welcome!
"What do you mean, 'there's a new bookstore opening around the corner?'" Loki exhales with ice curling around the words. "We're the only bookstore around here."
Hela pinches the bridge of her nose to keep her feet on the ground and patience running in her veins. "Brother, don't be daft," she starts, quiet and dreadfully calm, which Loki knows to be only a façade, "it means we have competition."
Competition. Well, fuck this.
"I didn't mean to tell you this way, boss," Clint says and frowns, worry washing over his eyebrows and whole face, "but I thought you should know. And I think Hela here has known for quite some time, too. Hell, I even thought you'd seen the ad in town?"
"Clint," Hela groans.
Loki's frown intensifies. "What the hell is going on here?"
Hela licks her lips, breathes in and out to seemingly calm herself. "I told you as much but you weren't listening," and for Loki's sake, she leaves the as usual part out, for which he feels weirdly grateful. "Sigyn told me, remember?"
"How did she know?"
"She has eyes, actually," Hela replies, sarcasm dripping everywhere. "It's been everywhere, brother, do you ever look up from your phone and notice advertisements around you instead of writing to a stranger whose face you haven't even seen after months of exchanging goofy messages about fucking Bonnefoy?"
A weird atmosphere settles at that; Clint clears his throat and goes back to their tiny kitchen in the back to make coffee, face blank, while Sif keeps looking between the Laufeyson siblings who apparently have started a staring contest—perhaps much more of a war, actually.
"I've been worried about many other things that involve money," Loki grunts, "you should know that as our accountant."
"You've also been really busy flirting with Ghost Man over the Internet," Hela snaps.
Loki grits his teeth. "Don't talk about him—"
Sif looks over at Loki over her reading glasses. "I think that's enough, both of you," and she takes Loki's hand in hers to take him outside for a breath of fresh November air.
The sky is a washed-off blue that day, clouds scattered in the horizon, and Loki wonders if it's going to rain anytime soon. He likes the rain; likes the mood it sets the city in, likes that he can be pensive and left alone under the heavy weight of water as he walks home instead of taking the subway.
"You're moping," Sif says in a quiet voice as he takes a sip of her lukewarm coffee from Starbucks. "Sexy Pirate's at it again?"
Loki shifts on his legs, looks elsewhere. "We haven't been talking lately."
Sif frowns behind her glasses. "How come? Didn't he want to meet?"
At that, Loki stays silent; perhaps for too long. Maybe Sif has become too good at reading him, maybe she knows him too well, and she sees right through what has been left unsaid.
"You haven't replied, have you?"
"Why would I want to meet him? What we have is perfectly fine," Loki retorts, distant and cold. It's his shield, his protection, what he has built for so many years to avoid being hurt. "I just want to talk about Bonnefoy and his stupid dog and my inability to listen to ABBA without dancing right on the spot."
A quick smile passes upon Sif's lips but vanishes just as fast. "You will end up meeting him and you know it."
What if that is what Loki wants? What if, he thinks. What if I just want to be left alone, to have my routine morning Chai Latte and cuddles from Leia, take-over with Hela on Wednesdays and beers with Sif on Fridays? What's wrong with that?
Loki doesn't say a word, simply stares at the street where they are standing and where dry leaves are crowding on the pavement.
"I need to focus on the shop. Money is so tight and now we have this big idiotic company coming our way… that certainly doesn't help us."
"Yeah," Sif murmurs faintly, "this is going to be hard with them around the corner. We need to up our game or we can say goodbye to the shop."
Anger and anxiety spark suddenly in the pit of Loki's stomach, exploding all over and coating his tongue with a rotten feeling.
"I can't let that happen," and his hands are shaking, shaking so hard Sif is starting to notice and her eyes grow worried."I can't betray my mother and let that happen, Sif."
x x x
Sweat rolls down his cheeks when he wakes up abruptly from his nightmare.
Sweat.
But not only.
Loki feels tears soaking his cheeks, wet trails on his skin, and as he turns around in bed, he is still alone.
Extending his hand and fingers to where his mother's body used to lie at times, warm and soft sheets against his skin, the void that has been eating at his guts blooms again in his stomach.
They are just plain cold sheets and blankets, now, flat and unpleasant as they curl around his ribcage, around the wound in his chest that continues to bleed, soaking his clothes through with sweat.
It's the salt of cruelty that sticks, the tears that are a fissure, the voices of ghosts he has to pretend are music to his ears.
Leave me the fuck alone, Loki repeats in his head, still crying. Leave me the fuck alone!
It's that hue that overtakes everything, from memories to body connections and reactions.
Disarticulate. Uncovered.
Dead.
He chokes back on a sob as Leia climbs in bed with him and starts licking his cheek before he buries his head in his hands, breathing out a silent whimper.
"I'm exhausted," he ends up crying in her fur, fingers curling around the soft hair of her back. "What am I supposed to do? The shop is going down, my love life is a disaster and mum is still very dead." He stops, blinks back tears while Leia keeps licking his cheek. "I still have Hela. And you. And Sif. But—Leia. It's so hard. Everything is so hard."
Right at that moment, his phone pings.
Loki grabs blindly for his phone on his nightstand. Watching his screen come to life threatens to make his heart burst from his chest.
From: pirateangel
To: agent_of_asgard
Posted: Wed Nov 8, 2017 3:28
Re: What about Bonnefoy?
Dear friend,
I know it's late and I'm so sorry for the hour. You will probably be asleep by the time you get this.
I've been worried.
I didn't mean to rush things by asking if we could meet. I thought it would be a good idea as our discussions are probably the best part of my day and there's no one quite like you around me. No one is ready to hear about Bonnefoy or my rambling for hours regarding my dog. No one but you, really.
And I miss you, friend. I miss you so much and I am so sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable by asking we meet. I completely understand if you are not ready. We can just resume talking!
Honestly, I would love that. I miss you so much. I feel pretty lonely and our daily discussions are something I can't get enough of.
Also, I hope you are okay. Sorry if you didn't reply because of something else.
I guess I'll see myself to bed.
There's a spark of hope blooming through Loki's bones, tears still clinging to his eyelashes and making them appear to weigh a lot more than they should, though the feeling of softness lingers.
On his lap, Leia purrs quietly.
God does he wish he were a cat at times so he could lead a peaceful, stressless life with no bullshit and no money problems.
From: agent_of_asgard
To: pirateangel
Posted: Wed Nov 8, 2017 3:49
Re: What about Bonnefoy?
Dear friend,
I need to apologise for not replying to your last message.
I guess you saw right through me: I think I'm not ready to meet yet. I have so many things on my mind these days and I am so anxious to see you in real life, to be completely honest with you, that I don't think it's a good idea to go ahead with seeing each other yet, though it doesn't mean I don't want to.
I want to.
Just not now, my friend. I hope you understand.
I am sorry I didn't reply. I have been swarmed in work and life worries and everything seems to be spiralling down.
Be assured, though, that I have missed our daily conversations and that your message really came on point today. I was having a sleepless night…
"... More like nightmares and residual anxiety," Loki mumbles to himself with his heart still beating too fast to his taste before he resumes typing,
… and I felt relief and happiness at the idea of hearing more about you.
Can we keep talking about Bonnefoy and your dog and ABBA? I'd like that a lot. I will go crazy otherwise.
Hm. Okay. Maybe I shouldn't have written that, but hey. It's true. Life has been pretty shitty lately and I feel bad right now. At least, I get to have a new message from you, which is a small compensation in exchange of my bad night.
I hope you are asleep by now, or that you are at least trying. Don't be like me: don't stay up too late.
Taking the step to writing to his online friend again has somehow lifted a weight from Loki's shoulders. He realises his heart is still beating hard and fast, but not because of anxiety-induced nightmares: he feels excited for the first time in weeks.
Maybe he really is falling for this pirateangel dude; maybe he is—alright, he most definitely is.
It doesn't feel bad, Loki decides. It feels normal and gentle and he doesn't want to throw up at the prospect of being close to someone else again (or maybe a little, who is he fooling?). Getting to experience this quiet feeling of happiness at knowing someone and wanting them around is so good because it hasn't touched him in years, hasn't made him feel worthy or interesting for god knows how many days.
I told him I wasn't ready to meet yet but I think I might be soon, he texts Sif as four o'clock rolls and replaces three fifty nine.