It's Tuesday, midday, and Loki is sitting alone in the lunch hall of his school. He's clutching a cup of hot chocolate and staring into space, the same thoughts swimming round and round in his mind and all the while he feels like he's slipping deeper and deeper into the blackness. He stayed up long into the night, waiting for Thor to come home, or when that got too much, just for one of the ladies at the Co-op to text him with the news that they'd missed something on the tapes, or that Thor had just got sidetracked round the corner and would be returning in the morning. He fell asleep, exhausted, at four in the morning, the alarm going off at six only serving to remind him of when Thor had missed his alarm on Sunday, and suddenly it all hurt again.
He feels the wavy ridges of the cup with his fingers, up and down, up and down. It takes him five minutes to notice that Sif has sat down next to him and is waving her hand in his face to get his attention. He snaps out of his reverie and looks at her, a faint smile toying at the corner of his lips as instinct makes him put on a façade.
"Loki." Her voice is distant, like he's underwater, and he blinks, painfully slow.
"Sif," he says, moving his head so he can look past her shoulder and back at the wall again. His eyes feel broken, like they can't focus on anything with too much detail, and faces are far too complex.
She sighs in frustration, messing up her hair and looking over at Fandral and Volstagg where they have sat down next to her. She's never been a particular fan of Loki, although they've had their shared jokes, but she knows how dear he is to Thor and tries her best because of that. Wherever Thor is, she knows he would want her and their friends to help Loki, especially when he looks so close to breaking, so she hesitantly reaches out to take his hand and stop it crushing the cup he's holding.
"Where were you guys yesterday?" She's half tempted to make a joke about their History teacher missing his 'assistant', as Loki is known, but decides against it. Loki doesn't look in the mood for jokes. Thinking on it, she decides Loki doesn't look to be in the mood for anything, except his own thoughts, but she senses that even those are something he wishes to avoid.
Loki ignores her, because she doesn't really understand what his life, what Thor's life is like on the inside, and they haven't told anyone about it. He doesn't want to have to explain about Odin's drinking issues, or how he believes he will perish without Thor, and that he's perishing now.
Sif squeezes on his hand and he looks up, narrowing his eyes slightly to focus on his face. "Loki," she says again, and he decides to pay attention this time, since she's obviously determined. "Where's Thor?"
.
In all her years, Sif has never seen Loki and Thor separate. They're joined at the hip, and it makes her envious because she can't get on with her brother at all. She's never known them to spend a day apart since Loki joined in Year Seven. When Thor caught flu off of her, Loki had only come in for the first couple of lessons before returning home, claiming he felt ill too, although their friends suspected it was something more to do with Thor not being at school. When they were little they acted more like normal brothers, but that was a long time ago, and Sif can't remember it properly.
She looks at Fandral again, and his mouth tightens. "I'll try," he whispers, and he gently directs Loki's attention more towards himself. "Loki, where's Thor? Is he coming in today?"
In answer, Loki favours him with an empty stare, his smile pulling the corners of his mouth up until it looks more like a grimace. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be along, some time."
Fandral's mouth drops open, and he and the others can only stare as Loki glides up from the seat and sweeps out the room, hands shoved deep in their pockets to hide the tremors.
.
Thor's hands are tied together with two black tiewraps in front of him, and a hood is put over his head. Rough hands bend him over although he fights against them, pushing back with all his might, but the strength of a fifteen-year-old boy is no match for a fully grown man. He hears the locks click shut, so there's no use trying to escape, and gropes for his phone.
It's only as they turn out of the road, which Thor can tell through feeling the corners as his body sways on the back seat, not strapped in because his bound hands stop a seatbelt from working properly, that he remembers he left his phone in his room. The driver is playing some infuriating rap CD on top volume, so Thor knows even if he did cry for help no-one would hear him. The windows of the car are tinted - he saw it before they blindfolded him.
They drive for what seems like hours, but Thor can't tell if it's just because he's breathing too fast - there's no way of measuring time other than by counting the ragged breaths he drags in and out of his lungs. He tries to shout to his kidnapper but the man clearly isn't listening, or doesn't care. Thor kicks against the door, the chair, anything his legs can reach and he lifts his hands to undo the hood but his bound wrists stop him getting to the knots and undoing them.
Loki, he thinks desperately. I have to tell Loki. I have to tell him I'm going to be late. He screams in his head for his brother, calling his name over and over, desperate to explain. He knows how worried Loki will be if he doesn't come home.
.
The rest of the week passes much the same, but this time Sif and her friends don't press Loki for answers. There was something in the way he explained it that haunts them, or at least makes them sufficiently uncomfortable that they can't ask again. Thor doesn't turn up at school for the rest of the week.
The first night, Tuesday night, Loki doesn't sleep. It's some irrational part of his mind keeping him up, desperately clinging to the hope that Thor just got sidetracked and will walk through the front door any moment. He ignores his father, ignores the rubbish piling back up in the kitchen and the sitting room; he can't bring himself to look at it, because it only serves to remind him of how he and Thor had spent the weekend together cleaning up.
When Friday comes, it is like then end of an era, even though Loki knows this new stage of his life is just beginning. There's still a glimmer of hope inside him, hope that maybe something will turn up, although he tries his best to crush it whenever it flares up to spare his own feelings. He's curled up on his bed again when he hears a buzzing from down the stairs. It's funny how he manages to be able to hear his phone vibrate when it's an entire floor away, but half the time he can't even feel it when it's in his pocket. He bolts down the stairs and jumps the last three steps, nearly skidding on the polished wood of the floor.
His phone is on the coffee table in the front room, buzzing and pushing an empty crisp packet off the table. He sees it's an unrecognised number and hesitates, then picks up.
"Hello?"
"Loki? It's Brenda, love, from the Co-op."
Loki's stomach flips and he can't help bursting into a big grin. "Have you found something?" he asks excitedly, hope bubbling up into a surge.
Brenda pauses, hearing his excitement, and bites her lip. "No, that's why I'm calling. Nothing's come up yet." She holds her breath, waiting for Loki to respond, already hearing his disappointed tone. Nothing comes from the other end except breathing, so she speaks again to break the tension. "I think it's time you told someone about this."
"N-nothing?" Loki says quietly, barely using his voice at all. It's more just a movement of air as he exhales, and Brenda has a hard time understanding it.
"I've checked the tapes again, for the whole of Monday, and I've waited to see if he turns up at all, but he hasn't. I'm really sorry."
"No, it's OK," Loki whispers again, feeling like he's standing in a bottomless pit. "Th-thank you for helping me with this." He puts the phone down on the table on speaker, sinking into the sofa and cupping his hands over his mouth and nose.
"Loki, I think you need to contact the police about this now. If an authority's involved something may turn up. This is out of our hands now."
Loki nods even though she can't see it, sighing audibly. "OK...OK, I'll see what I can do." He doesn't want to go to the police, partly because he still has a little shred of hope left that Thor will come back of their own accord, and partly because he's worried they will want to investigate his house, and then they'll see the rubbish, and they'll see his father, and they'll see him...
"Do you want me to come with you when you do?" Brenda asks, because she can tell Loki doesn't want to do it, but she knows it's important. Loki's wellbeing has become a concern of hers over the years, and Thor's, ever since their mother disappeared thirty months ago.
"No, no, it's fine. I'll go tomorrow after dad's got up. But thanks for offering."
"All right. Call me if you need anything. Bye." Brenda waits for Loki to reply, then hangs up. She wonders if he will actually go to the police. She wonders if he will actually be all right.
Loki closes his eyes and swallows. He feels his pulse resounding in his head and the world is tilting even though his eyes aren't open to see it. He tastes bile, and decides to make a drink, shuffling to the kitchen and passing his father in the lair on the way. He boils the kettle and makes himself a cup of tea, then one for his father, bringing it into the lair and setting it down on the coffee table. Odin looks up at him in surprise, but takes the drink and nurses it, a change from the permanent tang of alcohol inside his mouth.
"Thor's still not back," Loki says flatly, not expecting a reaction from his father, but Odin actually responds.
"I know," he says quietly squeezing Loki's shoulder. "I know."
Loki nods, sipping his tea and looking into the distance. "I'm going to the police tomorrow."
Odin hums in acknowledgement, hand still resting on Loki's shoulder. It's a fragile comfort, but it's the best they will both get and they cling to it with desperation. Loki wishes his relationship with his father hasn't deteriorated so much that they couldn't console in one another, but the drink has driven Odin away from everything except himself.
They stay together for a long time, absorbing one another's warmth and doing what they can to help each other. Loki eventually crawls up the stairs and into his bed without even brushing his teeth, and he is asleep in moments, tossing about under the sheets as the nightmares close in.