A/N: I Will Be by Avril Lavigne. Totally listen to it, it basically is this chapter. So, yeah. Enjoy, my loves.
WARNING: Same as last time. Lots of triggering shit. LOTS. Really, if you haven't realized by now, that most every chapter has something triggering in it...well, glasses could be a good choice for you ;b.
xoxox
He was drowning in a sea of confusion, tempest-tossed and lost in the midst of a storm. God had abandoned him, and all he had left were lightning-filled squalls and angry waves. His ship had thrown him overboard, and there was no one to grab his desperate, clawing hand. The rest of the world ignored him, abandoning him like a hungry orphan- passed by without a thought, reaching hand brushed aside by bitter, cruel people with money lined pockets and luxurious lives. And with each passing moment, he was growing more and more tired of keeping his head above water, of hearing his empty stomach growl bitterly. The air was running out, the sea was filling his lungs, and soon, he would be beyond salvation.
This, is what depression feels like.
This, is not a happy emotion.
This, is not a fad.
This, is not to be ignored.
Tony looked at Loki and frowned. No lies sprang to mind, no cloying smiles crossed his face, no charming jokes vomited from his mouth. He was at a loss. And there Loki was, arms crossed, mouth in a firm line. The boy was not to be trifled with, not if Tony wanted to keep this relationship. And he did, he wanted to be with Loki more than anything. If he was with Loki, the sun didn't have to rise, the world didn't have to keep spinning, the universe could explode- and all would be well in Tony's world, because Loki was by his side.
He was in love. But, unfortunately, that didn't make the reality of who he was, and what he was, and how he dealt with all the fucked up shit in his life any less repulsive. Hell, even he hated him. And how could he ask Loki to be okay with this? How could he even pretend that it was acceptable behavior to just all of a sudden ditch your boyfriend? And why, oh why, had he done it? Why couldn't he just suck it up and pretend- like he always had- that he wasn't falling apart inside. Like his past, and everything he had once been wasn't being upchucked by his sickened, diseased heart? All the words, thoughts, pain he had felt in the past was just being flooded before his eyes, coming out of him in a steady stream of negativity and anguish.
But how could he tell Loki that? Tony was petrified of revealing who he was. Even after all this time, after everything they had survived together in the past year and a half, and he couldn't tell the boy the truth. He couldn't tell him how his head was spinning, how every time he was alone- even for a split second- the world crashed down on him like walls on a claustrophobic in a tunnel, and how could he dare tell him that at any given moment, he might do the unspeakable. Because Loki had too, too, too much on him. Tony could see the wounded glint in his eyes when he thought no one was paying attention- and yeah, Tony's always paying attention when it comes to Loki- and he remembers the sight of those bright red, angry lines on his arms, and he realizes that Loki is getting more gaunt and pale by the day.
Most of all, though, he remembered that day. He remembered Obie's haunted look when he watched Tony get raced to the hospital in an ambulance. He remembered the unsteady shake of his voice, and the tears glimmering in his eyes. He remembered the man picking up his emaciated, fourteen year old form- his arms shaking and his chest moving too fast. Tony remembered everything through a drugged haze that overshadowed half his life. And it made everything so much more brilliant and dazzling and bizarre. So much more scary. So much more threatening.
And now, at nineteen, Tony's a fucking walking plethora of bitterness and rage and depression and addiction and all the bad things in the world. And he's all of that fucked up shit that Loki's been exposed to for forever. But Tony doesn't want to be that all over again for Loki. He wants to be something different, something gentle and kind and thoughtful. Tony wants to take Loki to fancy restaurants and get him drunk on expensive wine, and make him feel like a fucking princess. He wants to take Loki to Russia or China or the fucking South Pole to see comets chase each other through the sky, or to Alaska so he can see the Northern Lights dancing, or somewhere deep in the uninhabited bits of America so he can see the twinkling stars that Tony's been obsessed with since he can remember.
So, when Tony looks at his dark, raven-esque, snow white angel, everything goes blank.
Clint looks at Thor across the table with dull eyes. The man looks strung out. Did he go off his roids or something? No, Hawkeye isn't jealous- not really, but I mean, have you seen the muscles on that dude?- but he's...pissy. See, he and Nat were just getting to the, um, good part. Where it was more tongue and teeth than lips and soft breath. And now, he's left here glaring at some blond mountain while Nat makes some of her battery acid coffee- he pretends its good, but the woman is Russian, for fuck's sake, if she makes a drink that isn't strong, there's cause to be worried.
"So, how's it going with Natasha?" Oh yeah, because Thor's really interested.
Hawkeye narrows his eyes and grunts.
Then a red-headed maven who could probably castrate any man to walk planet earth, swings into the room with three steaming mugs of coffee whilst wrapped in a blanket. Because it's motherfucking cold in this god damn city, Clint gratefully takes his eye-watering coffee and breathes in the thick steam. Mmm. Warmth. Natasha's shivering. Thor's nose is red like Rudolph got on steroids and bleached his hair. And all of them look ready to kill the dorm manager who somehow forgot that heat is an essential thing when it's fall in New York City.
Natasha's azure eyes look at Thor like he's on trial. Clint nearly snickers, remembering how fucking intimidating that moment was- when she locked eyes with you and made you feel like the shit on her shoes. But hey, as long as he wasn't under that mega watt glare, he was happy to enjoy the show. His girl was superwoman.
"I-I...I saw Loki and Thanos get into a fight earlier today." Thor fidgeted in his seat. Hawkeye thought it was remarkably funny how he looked like a five year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His big blue eyes wouldn't meet Natasha's.
Narrowing her brilliant, drop-dead gorgeous, sexy blue eyes, "Mmm." It was the most intimidating sound the woman had made all day. But, that's how things were with Natasha and Loki. It was over-protectiveness taken to a whole other level.
"I want to...chase him away. But, I need help." Oooh, now things are getting interesting. Clint leaned forward, taking a sip of his coffee and trying to quietly choke without attracting undo attention.
Natasha sent a split second glare his way that seared through his skin and into his soul. "Chase? You mean, you want to intimidate him." Welp, you can take the girl out of the U.S.S.R., but you can't take the U.S.S.R. out of the girl. Or something like that. Maybe all the caffeine was going to his head.
Thor gulped, and nodded. Clint felt the need to roll his eyes at the man's reluctance. It was a well-known fact in their tight little group, that Loki had gotten the shit beat out of him by good ole big brother, and that's exactly why Natasha was about to break the man's face. The only reason she had yet to do so, was because Tony cornered her and told her that 'apparently' Thor'd had a change of heart. Hawkeye had yet to be convinced. Mostly because he'd seen something strange in Tony's eyes, something on edge. He knew that the two teenagers were handling more than any nineteen year old should have.
"And you want my help?" She asked, the level of plausible-violence-within-the-next-ten-minutes shooting up about five thousand degrees. Hawkeye prepared to duck- there was no reason to get this chemical sludge she made him drink all over himself.
Again, Thor nodded. Clint sniggered, cat caught your tongue, Thor? Finally, he wasn't the one and only man to have been frightened by the impregnable Black Widow.
Natasha sat back, her arm brushing Clint's and making goosebumps race across her skin. She was frigid- but weren't they all?- so he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Nonchalantly, of course. Her eyes met his for a minute, contracting a half of a soft smile from her lips.
God damn, Thor. God damn him.
"Have you spoken to Loki about this?" Nat asked, bundling into her blanket tighter. God, it was cold. She had to be having flashbacks of Russia in winter-time. He wanted to go back with her, he wanted to see where she had lived. He wanted to finally see all the beauty she had told him of, to watch the contrast of her bright red hair against the pure snow, to hold her tight and keep her warm in the midst of all that Siberian chill. He wanted to see her beautiful Russia, and tell her she far surpassed it.
Thor blanched, and Clint felt Natasha's spine stiffen. "No. Me and Loki haven't been speaking. He doesn't wish to hear from me." He squirmed uncomfortably. "I was kind of hoping you could get Tony on board, Clint." Blue eyes settled on him hopefully. Natasha glared at him pointedly.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! When had he been dragged into this? Loki's bullshit was not his problem- even if he had totally developed a soft spot for the wolfish teen- and he was not gonna be a part of all this. No way. No. And really, half of the reason he wasn't getting involved was because he had the feeling if he said yes, Natasha might behead him where he sat. "Um, I think you need to talk to Tony, yourself. I mean, this isn't any of my business." He shrugged, studying his pitch black coffee intensely.
"I'm making it your business." Thor's voice sounded offended and confused. Well, shit.
Didn't Thor understand, this was Loki's life? He was a big boy, he could and was handling it. Well, with a shitload of help from Tony- but it seemed to be a symbiotic relationship. Clint had seen everything from his vantage point. He was silent, a shadow in a dark room, he could blend into any atmosphere. He still wasn't sure how he had gotten Tony's attention back when he had first started going here. The college parties were a pulsating, gyrating, electrical assault on the senses, yet somehow, Tony had singled him out and gotten him more drunk than he'd known was possible at his very first campus party. And now, he was a little like Natasha was with Loki; you fucked with Tony, and Clint would break you. That's just how it was. He had become Tony's unofficial bodyguard.
"No, Thor." Clint shook his head. "I'm not gonna help you with this." He stood, garnering a surprised look from Natasha. "Loki and Tony are my friends. I won't go behind their back to help you."
Then Hawkeye turned and walked out, leaving Natasha to smile stupidly at his back, and Thor to stare in shock.
Loki wanted to scream. Stark had suddenly become oh-so fascinated by the hideous grey dorm carpeting, obviously hiding his eyes beneath long, curly brown bangs. And yes, Loki wanted to reach out and stroke his face and comfort whatever pain he was hiding so diligently- but he couldn't. The moment he touched Tony, all would be forgotten and kicked under the rug to fester and decay into their relationship like acid. There could be no hidden truths, no ignored lies. If the two of them were going to survive this, then they had to be blunt, open, honest. Three things they never were, under any circumstances.
But Loki liked to believe, that, with each other, they were different.
Was he wrong? Were they just the same men under a different mask? Could they make this work? Loki was beginning to doubt it. He and Stark were just too alike, they were two competing forces, two things ripping and pulling each other apart at all the most vulnerable, tender places. They knew each other's weaknesses, knew what hurt most, knew exactly what to hold back so they wouldn't get too close, get too hurt. And really, Loki couldn't fault him- he'd done the same things. How could he say he was ready? How could he know he could...love?
"I'm so sorry, Loki." Loki glared at him frostily. Put up the walls, maintain the bitch face, whatever you do, Loki, don't look vulnerable. "I know what I did was inexcusable." He sighed, moving to stand by the window and glare out at the chilly autumn world. "But, I do that. And I don't really give any thought to anyone else. Sometimes, I just break away from the world for a while." Loki could understand the desire for solace, but he knew there was more. Something that Stark was hiding, it was in the way he wouldn't meet Loki's eyes, the way he let his now-long hair veil his face, the carefully controlled stance.
They may know each other's weaknesses, but they know their strengths too.
And Tony's strength was being an emotionless bastard if he needed to be. And that's precisely what he was doing right now, because, although the remorse was real, there were too many emotions roiling beneath the surface for Loki to ignore. "But, Anthony, now you have someone who's an integral part of your life. You can't just disappear off the planet without letting me know." He sighed, running his hands through his hair. The last thing he needed to do was berate the man. But god damn it, he'd been so worried. "I just...I was so worried you..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say the unthinkable that had been bludgeoning his brain all week.
Anthony turned around, frowning at Loki. "You were so worried I had what? Finally finished what I started when I was fourteen?" Loki took a step back. The young man's voice was harsh, taking him back to a place he hadn't been in a long time. And it took him a few seconds to catch up. Fourteen? Suicide. "I almost did." Stark was in Loki's face, his brown eyes burning. "I almost did, Loki. And you know what, I wish I had succeeded when I was younger, because now I..." His voice broke, his eyes dropped, liquid glass sliding down his cheek. "I'm too much of a coward to do it now."
Loki was frozen, his hands gentle on Stark's chest, his own back against the wall. Anthony's head was bowed, staring at the strip of carpet separating their feet. "No. No, you're not a coward." He cupped Stark's chin in his hand, wondering at the contrast in their skin tone. Their eyes met. "You're strong. Stronger than you were. And it's okay, Anthony. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He shook his head, he had come so close to uttering those three little words that petrified him right now. "But you have to meet me halfway. You can't just disappear without letting me know you're okay. If you need some time to yourself, all you have to do is say so."
A warm hand ran up his side, running around his back and pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Lo-Lo." Whispered words hardly meant a thing. But he was forgiven this time.
No promises, no guarantees.
Frigga looked down at the snapshot in her hand. Two little boys, one blond, one with hair the color of ink. Her boys. Neither of them had been to the house since Thor had beaten Loki up- under advisement from his father. She had yet to truly forgive her husband. Of course, she had always known this day would come, when Odin would do something unforgivable, and her baby would slowly disappear out of her life. Nevertheless, she refused to lose him without a fight.
Today, she was going to go see him.
Sure, she was prepared to be spurned, in her misanthropic, acerbic son's usual dismissal. Too many times over the years, she had seen him throw Thor out of his room, or yell at him to leave him alone, or growl about how Thor was such a pain in the ass. And she had laughed, thinking it was hi-jinks, and they'd eventually get over it. But, over the years, Loki had just gotten more withdrawn, more upset, more depressed. He had become more and more introverted, slowly furthering himself from his family and friends.
Frigga supposed she'd known then. Her little boy was destined for tragedy.
It was Saturday, and Loki woke up at the bright and shining early hour of noon. Perhaps practically living with Stark was corrupting him, just a little. When he'd told Nat last night that he and his scarily addicted boyfriend had nearly broken up, she'd said "If you two ever break up, I'm scared what you'll do, Loki." Basically, she'd spoken his own fears out loud, only, he knew exactly what he'd do. And perhaps that was the scariest part of all. In what normal relationship did two people prepare for failure? I suppose, that would imply that they were two normal people, though, wouldn't it?
But, it was over, for now. Loki knew they'd have a shit ton of knock-down, drag-out fights far worse and more heartbreaking than this. There are several reasons why.
1) Loki's terrified of this relationship.
2) Stark is terrified of this relationship.
3) They're both immature, volatile people who've never actually experienced a successful relationship of any type.
4) Loki can skin people alive with words.
5) Tony is an addict.
6) Loki is suffering from abandonment on all fronts.
7) Tony is suffering from PTSD.
8) They're two of the most enormously fucked up individuals alive.
9) They're both fabulous misanthropes. Fabulous.
And there's one reason that outshines them all:
10) They love each other. And because of this love, they will fight each other for all the wrong reasons, they will break each other down just to build each other back up. They will spit and bitch and bite and growl in the mornings and late at night because they're too tired to deal with other humans, but can't bear the idea of being apart. They will hate and hold grudges and bicker like old people, but they'll smile and kiss and make up like the young and vibrant men they are.
And Loki knows, knows like he knows the shine of Stark's arc reactor, this is worth it. And it may be hell, but he's been through hell and it isn't that bad. Not when Stark is by his side. Then he can handle everything. Anything. He can handle fire falling from the skies, and broken ribs, and shitty families, and abductions, and absence. He can take on the world, because he's invincible by Stark's side.
His phone rang. "Hello?" He murmured, burying his nose in the pillow and breathing in that spicy scent of young, sleepy Anthony.
"Good morning, princess." A teasing voice crawled across the phone line and into Loki's ear, where it nestled comfortably.
He giggled.
Fun Fact #20: Loki is very sensitive about nicknames and pet names and lovey-dovey-ooey-gooey names that people have in relationships. He and Thanos never used those nicknames, because neither of them thought it appropriate. This viewpoint has drastically changed since one Anthony Edward Stark waltzed into Loki's relatively peaceful life. He is now 'Lo-Lo', 'Princess', 'Babe', 'Darlin'', 'Punk', 'Sweetie', and 'Honeybun'. And for some reason, he loves hearing Stark call him each and every one. The new ones make his heart skip.
"You know, I could go with you." Anthony offered, his voice uncertain and changing such a wonderful morning wake-up call into a dreaded and awkward thing. It was sweet, in Anthony's customarily misplaced way.
So, he smiled at the pillow, grinding his eyes closed against the groggy tears springing forward eagerly. "No, no, love. I have to this on my own, this time." And yeah, his voice was breaking all over the place, but he was okay with that. He was okay sounding vulnerable to Anthony. Because Anthony wouldn't hurt him. Not now.
He heard a sigh translate across the line. "Just...I don't want you to be alone, Loki. I can't get that whole..." He trailed off, and Loki could tell he was shaking his head- as he'd noticed Anthony always did when things got too emotional, as if he was denying everything demanding attention inside of him. They both waged that inner war, one against one's emotions. It was bloody and gory and painful. There was never truly a victor.
"I know, Anthony. I know." He buried his face deep in his pillow. "Come cuddle with me." He murmured into the fabric, begging Anthony to understand his muffled voice.
He did. And he laughed. "You know I would, cupcake. But Banner has me mixed up in some chemical stuff. He can't do it alone." Loki heard his voice drop into that lazily excited tone he used whenever he was talking about science, his first love. "He's on the verge of a real breakthrough, if we can get past the whole safety thing. I never remember any of that stuff, but Bruce always does it by the books." He sounded a little exasperated.
Loki snickered. "So there is someone on planet earth who can make you follow the rules, hmm?" He stretched languidly, feeling each muscle pull taut under his skin.
"Well...not exactly. I have a few burns attesting to that." More stories, more lacy lines on his boy's hands.
They both had more than their fair share of scars. They'd both dabbled in the unhealthy art of hurting themselves, breaking the skin, marring themselves for life. But it told a story, each line had a meaning, each burn had a reason, each marking had a lie, or a hateful word, or a broken heart behind it. Each broken line had seen Loki break down, or Stark curse past tears, or a drunken boy sitting on the floor and sobbing out his misery. And Loki loved every one of Stark's scars. Each and every last one. He wanted to kiss them all, and hear every story, and listen to his lover's deep voice woo his eardrums and whisper across his skin. He wanted to feel the pain that Anthony had felt, know what he had been through the eighteen years before they met. Loki wanted every last inch of Anthony, he wanted to know each and every last detail, he wanted to know what it'd been like when Stark woke up in the hospital, how he'd felt after he lost his virginity, how he celebrated his sweet sixteen. He wanted to know what bones he'd broken climbing trees, what his childhood artwork looked like, what he'd wanted to be when he grew up. All these insignificant details were near-forgotten memories that Loki wanted to know.
"Anthony." He whined, eyes half closed, the smell of John Constantine making coffee drifting to his nose. "You gotta stop hurting yourself, babe." And yes, he was purring, and being intentionally seductive, and he really shouldn't have been distracting Anthony like this.
Something in the kitchen clanged, and John cursed loudly. Loki repressed the urge to snicker. Sure, he loved John, but the man belonged anywhere but a kitchen- in fact, he should keep a ten mile radius between him and any and all ovens. Keeping the man from lighting himself- and the whole apartment, Loki included- on fire, was a full-time job.
"Stop talking like that, or I'm gonna ditch Bruce and come seduce you." The boy growled, his voice low to keep Banner from hearing.
Loki grinned cattily. "Oh really? Seems more like it was me seducing you, Anthony." He traced a pattern on the pillow, then hugged it to his chest, breathing in the engineer who should've been there instead.
Stark laughed breathlessly. "You have no idea what you're-" He cut off sharply. "Ow! God damn it!" Loki jolted, hearing the pain in his boyfriend's voice.
"What happened? Are you okay?" Flashbacks assaulted him in less than half a second:
"It seems the younger Mr. Stark was abducted after a bomb detonated in his car."
"The much loved teenage millionaire was abducted earlier this morning, sources say, after a car bomb exploded near Central Park. It appears that all signs of the teenager were burned along with the fire."
"After an explosion in Central Park this morning, sources say Tony Stark, teenage millionaire and promising scientific genius, went missing. Officials have yet to make an announcement, but a trusted source tells us there are no leads as to what happened to the heir of Stark Industries, although it is believed he was kidnapped by international fugitives."
Everything, absolutely everything, was flashing back, reminding him of that moment when Stark made his heart stop- in the worst way possible. He was pretty sure he didn't breathe for a few days, and he knew, while Stark was gone, he had stopped living. Existing, in and of itself, was more than he could handle.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Bruce just- No, not those." He sighed. "Loki, look, I gotta go. But call me if you need me, or stop by afterwards. Just...promise you'll call me at the first sign of any trouble? I can't take you getting hurt anymore." The puppy-dog tone in Anthony's voice nearly brought back the tears.
"I promise, love. And you be careful. Kisses can't heal all burns." He smiled, remembering the last time Stark had gotten burnt.
"Loki, I swear to god, it's not that bad." Tony protested, watching the stubborn, inky-haired teenager grab the first Aid kit.
Green eyes looked at him darkly. "That bad? Stark, you imbecile, those are second degree burns! I honestly don't know why I haven't taken your skinny ass to the hospital." He grumbled, sounding like a really, really cute bear. Tony smothered the grin that was begging to manifest itself all over his face.
He shrugged. "I've had worse." And it was true. Tony couldn't count the amount of times he'd caught on fire, or stuck his finger in acid, or done something equally absent-minded, drunk, and stupid. Thank God for fire extinguishers.
Loki sighed, shoving his bangs back and running a soft thumb across his forehead. "You have grease all over you. What were you even doing?" Gently, he cleaned the wound running from the end of Tony's thumbnail up to the middle of his forearm. Feather-light fingers moved softly against his skin.
"Oh, just science stuff." He shrugged, smirking when Loki rolled his eyes.
Then, Loki did something that caught him completely off-guard. He started kissing his hand. Which, in Tony's pain-fuzzy state, took a second to make sense. It hit him like a brick to the head. Loki was kissing his scars. The ones that mottled the skin across his fingers, and hand, and all up his arms. Soft lips pressing against the tender breaks in his flesh that had stupid, painful, broken memories behind each and every one.
Tony pulled Loki against him, pushing their lips together for a slow, affectionate kiss. Tony took his time, memorizing the perfect feel and taste of Loki, and Loki's lips, and the evergreen scent of Loki, and the feeling of Loki's fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and tangling in his grown out curls. He ran his hands up Loki's sides, feeling the sloping ridges of a ribcage, and the sharp point of shoulder blades, and the gentle barely-there curve of his hips. He could feel the hormones thrumming under skin, heating up their flesh like they were turning into molten lava.
They broke apart, breathing a little harder and grinning at each other like two stupidly in love fools. Then John Constantine came rushing in, muttering something under his breathe in Latin.
"Not for most people, but they can for me." He blew a kiss across the phone, and then was gone.
Loki sighed, time for him to get a move on. It just wouldn't do to be late- except for always fashionable five minute tardiness that was an unbreakable rule in Loki's world.
A/N: So. I don't know. It's slightly longer. A lot more...all over the place. And, in case you guys couldn't tell- which, you probably could- I've been trying to incorporate more characters. Like Clint and Nat. And Thor. And Frigga. And, yeah, I left you in suspense -evil grin-. But you probably know what's coming anyways.
I'm not sure if this is much good, so please give some feedback. Honestly, my writer's block has been coming and going like a motherfucking curse. And I know, I know, it's been pretty dark recently, but I write based off my own emotions. So...sorry?
I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL INTERNET PEOPLE. And I've been terrible about responding to your reviews, but I'm gonna get to that real soon. I promise. You guys mean so much to me! -HUGSSSS-
xoxox, Rayn.