Counting Stars Chapter 27- Nobody, Not Even The Rain, an avengers fanfic

A/N: (Sorry for the three updates, it's just that FFN is a major dick, and I tend to forget that).

The name of this chapter is Nobody, Not Even The Rain Has Such Small Hands by La Dispute. Best band ever. They get me through life. Not even joking.

Now, I don't know if you all have noticed, but I'm always extremely concerned that you all like each and every chapter. Ya'll are always at the forefront of my mind when I'm writing. This chapter is different.

This chapter is essentially filled to the brim with me. My struggles. Things I've felt or had to walk through or seen in the mirror. I have put myself in this story, these characters, pretty much poured my heart, soul, pain, anguish into these chapters. I have given myself over to it, and come out loving it, and being proud of it. And it has brought me the most amazing friend in the world, through this story.

I do, in retrospect, hope you glean an immense amount of enjoyment from this. It is truly my desire that you guys love this story, and see how much it means to me that I've had so much support and such amazing reviews.

Whoop, I'm done being sentimental.

Also, there's a fucking HUGE amount of music that went into this, from bands like La Dispute, Led Zepplin (Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You), Mayday Parade, Sixx: A.M., and many more.

WARNING: so much suicidal shit. Guys, seriously. This chapter is rife with angst, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, drinking, worthlessness, just...I pulled out all the stops, okay? Take this into account before reading. I don't want anyone hurt, or triggered by this. I really, really want you to stop reading right here if you might be triggered.

I LOVE YOU ALL, and I'm so sorry for the extra time I took on this (it was a bitch, ugh).

"We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire." ~ George Sand

Tony wasn't really sure where he was, or why he was here, or why his mouth tasted like really filthy fur. His head was throbbing and his skin was covered in a night-long, sticky sheen of sweat. Everything was hot and hazy and he couldn't think right just yet. The room he was in was dark with the only bit of light coming from under the door. Music was beating against his eardrums like a jackhammer and sending little electric jolts of pain through his brain and eyes and making his blood feel a tiny bit thicker than cake batter while it pulsed achingly and slow throughout his entire body.

Groaning, he sat up slowly, ignoring the flashes of pain that came up red in his eyes. "Where the fuck am I?" A hand to his head, feeling the scab of a cut he didn't remember getting. His hair was a bird's nest of tangles and that weird feeling that comes from not showering for a few days.

What the fuck had happened?

And where was Loki?

A hand in his pocket revealed a phone- dead. He sighed. Well, he wasn't so out of practice that he couldn't get himself home. Nevertheless, something inside him said that the last thing he wanted was to go back...to go back where he had ruined everything. Back to that home where, six years ago, he had begun this trek downward that had brought him here. Because one mistake can change your life forever, it can kill you and leave you a corpse, walking, breathing, eating, existing- but never really living. And sure, there had been things that brought back embers of life- things like Loki and science and even alcohol, on occasion- but Tony knew that he had brought this on himself when he swallowed those pills. He had woken up in that hospital a different man, a man who had chosen to destroy himself, and take the rest of the world with him.

Maybe he had been taking the steps towards this end for a lot longer than he had ever realized.

Tony had always known he would die young. He just hadn't realized it would be this young. And he hadn't realized how painful death could be.

72 Hours Earlier

Loki grinned, the lights spiraling around them. They played over Natasha's skin prettily, making her seem mystical and mysterious. No wonder Clint had fallen so hard for her. "See, I thought the whole disco thing would be cool. I mean, it's in American movies all the time. You people are obsessed." She shook her head, her Russian accent coloring her voice strongly.

"It's perfect, Natasha. Every one is going to love it, especially Anthony. You know how he is about parties." His smile grew. Tomorrow was his boyfriend's birthday. And tonight, in celebration, Loki and Natasha were throwing him the birthday party of the century.

Since Loki and Anthony had gotten serious, Loki had noticed a sincere absence of Stark's signature partying lifestyle. And he knew, knew, his boyfriend missed it. But, the engineer had made a genuine attempt to please Loki and change for him- not that Loki had ever requested it, although, god knows he had wished for it- and Loki wanted him to know he appreciated it. So, there would be alcohol, there would be loud music (of the AC/DC type) and there would be flashing lights worthy of seizures.

"Oh, over here is the cake. They actually got the name right and everything." She snickered, remembering Loki's story about Thor's attempt to get Loki a birthday cake- the name on the cake had been 'Lucy Owenson'.

"Very funny, my dear." He rolled his eyes and tugged on her ponytail gently- which was rewarded with a Natasha Romanoff level glare. "Oh, wow." He stared at the cake with an awed smile.

The cake was a sugary depiction of Anthony's heart and soul- his worktable at the lab (Loki had drawn a sketch for the cake's icing design). It was slate grey on top with chemical vials drawn around the scrawling "Happy Birthday, Anthony!" that looked suspiciously like Loki's spidery handwriting. He grinned, there was no doubt Anthony would recognize that- although Loki had yet to reveal his artistic bent to the overly curious man he loved.

"I think it's cute." She shrugged, gazing down at it with him.

"Because it is." He smirked at her. "Thank you for helping me with this, darling." He sighed, running a hand back through his kinky black hair. "I'm worried."

She looked up at him, hooking her arm through his and pulling him towards the library- their usual haunt. "I know. I've known since Christmas that something was off with you two." She threaded their fingers together and pulled them down a serene, silent, book-decorated aisle. It was Loki's temple.

Fun Fact #30: Ever since Loki can remember, the library has been a safe place- like a church. He had come to this 'church' when he was hurt, sad, happy, crying, broken, abused, torn apart. When he needed quiet, when he needed asylum, when he needed an escape. And it had forever been the one place no one could truly hurt him. For here, everything was happy- in the end. At the end of the day, whatever book you read, will have a good ending. The protagonist will come out- bleeding, yes, but alive. The protagonist will fall in love and get the girl- even if it's not the one you were rooting for. They will come out happy, and the world will end up balanced once more. Loki wanted a storybook ending.

Loki nodded absently. "He's been different recently. Y'know, like he was before...when we weren't together. Not partying or going crazy, but just, withdrawn. I try to give him space because I know he tends to be a lone wolf." He shrugged. "It's just...his eyes. They...he's on Adderall all the time again. And drinking, again." He bit his lip. "Why is he relapsing? I thought he was getting better and I was helping him. Maybe I'm just hurting him. Making things worse." Tears started behind his eyes, but he successfully blinked them away as he looked down at an archaic book cover. The thing had to be a hundred years old- or at least, older than Loki.

"You know, Loki, you can ask him. You guys have been in a relationship of some sort- at least- for years, you have the right to be worried and concerned and to ask questions when he starts acting out. He has some responsibility to your relationship." She frowned. "Everything isn't your fault, lovey." She hugged him close, her arms wrapping around his midsection tightly. Adorably, she only came to the middle of his chest.

He knew she was right. And he knew that he had always had a problem with keeping the right balance and boundaries in relationships. Perhaps he was wired wrong, or perhaps it came from never having a healthy relationship- but he couldn't find the happy medium, the right give/take ratio when it came to love. Any kind of love. It had been that way with he and Thor, as well. Either he or Thor always gave more than they got in return. And he had expected just that with Anthony, he would give and give and give until he had no more. And then they would demolish everything. The bond between their hearts would be ruined.

He hadn't expected them to last.

But somehow they had. Somehow they had mapped out the right areas of each other, side-stepping landmines and trip wires, scaling walls and demolishing warring factions within each other. They had found sensitive veins- those Amazon rivers filled with blood- and explored the mind- with all it's nations and states of thought and memory- and traveled from limb to limb- those perilous bridges that could take you anywhere- until finally, they found the heart- that great, beating core of life and reason and pure lack of judgment and logic. Within each other, in these rivers and earth-bound mountains and valleys inside each other, they had found hope. Hope, that magnificently delusional piece of our psyche that makes us believe in the unbelievable, that makes us have faith in lies and mirages and illusions.

And they had built their relationship on that illusion. That trick of the eyes- or was it the heart, that fool?

"Oh, my dear, you could not be more wrong." And that was the truth of it.

Everything was Loki's fault.

It always had been.

It forever would be.

Tony paced in the lab, surrounded by all the immobile, soulless things he had spent his life on. Suddenly, they didn't seem so important. One tanned, chemically burned, calloused fingertip ran around the stainless steel edge of the arc reactor. The blue light illuminated the room brightly. The only other light in the room was the glowing orange at the end of his cigarette. It was so quiet, he could hear the electrical buzz of his machines. In this soul-pervading pitch, Tony could almost feel the palladium clogging his veins.

Tomorrow was his birthday. He'd be twenty-one years old. It had been a short life, filled to the brim with pain and personal torment and destruction. The one good thing in his life was Loki. Loki Laufeyson, the boy he loved so much he was willing to sacrifice his last few days of happiness for him. And such a notion was unheard of in the world of Tony Stark. The only happiness that truly mattered to the young industrial prince, was his own.

So, the question remained, 'Why?

Why am I saving him?'

The resounding answer ringing in his brain, was, 'Because you love him, you ignoramous.' The voice sounded suspiciously like one saturnine, raven-haired teenager. It brought a comforting smile to his worry-hardened face.

Slowly- and almost of their own accord- Tony's fingers tightened around the arc reactor. Slide a few degrees clockwise, tug a little, and it would come right out of his chest. Yank a few wires loose of their anchoring within his chest cavity, and it'd be just a few more painful minutes. Then he would be free.

He wouldn't have to hide all these dirty secrets roiling inside him.

The pain would be gone- and it was getting increasingly intolerable.

And Loki would be set free.

They'd both be free. Tony thought freedom an underrated, abused concept. It was necessary, and both he and Loki had been trapped for far too long.

So, Tony closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on the device, turning it till he heard a familiar click.

Love-bitten, ruby lips.

Tug till air whooshed into the hole between his ribs.

Inkspun hair dripping like black gold.

Emerald irises so unfathomable and liquid that they rivaled the seas, filled the backdrop of his eyelids.

Tony took a deep breath and-

"Anthony?" Loki's voice. Loki was back. Loki, his princess.

Quickly replacing the device into its rightful repose within his chest- above his still beating heart, which was admittedly flustered by his roller coaster emotions- he stood and jogged up the stairs to the entrance of the mansion.

Loki was wet, dripping on the hardwood floor and looking very much like a half-drowned kitten. Tony wanted nothing more than to dry him off and wrap him in a blanket and give him some warm milk. The expression of misery on Loki's face was possibly the most melodramatic thing Tony had ever seen. He grinned sympathetically.

"Did you go swimming?" He teased, watching Loki spitefully kick off squishy, water-logged boots and trudge toward the bedroom, leaving behind a crumb trail of raindrops in his wake. Tony followed like the lost puppy he tended to be.

"Essentially. It's flooding like crazy. If everything starts to freeze, we're screwed." The irascible tone in his soaked boyfriend's voice was cute. Loki was never more precious than when he was being a slightly bitchy diva. "I'm wet, Stark." He looked at Tony with an expression of disgust and horror, and for Loki to be any more feline, he'd have to sprout kitten ears and a tail.

"You dry off and I'll make you some hot chocolate, baby. Okay?" He tugged the edges of his fingers through rain-heavy curls.

Loki caught his hand and pressed a raindrop-colored kiss to his palm. "Whatever would I do without you?" He was teasing and being coy, but the words tugged hard on Tony's heart.

The mercurial teen let go to start wrestling with the clothes clinging to his thin frame, and Tony wandered off to make hot chocolate- complete with an unnecessary amount of whip cream for Loki.

Suddenly, and all too clearly, Tony realized that he wasn't sparing Loki from heartbreak or pain. He was just taking himself out of the equation. He wouldn't have to be there to see Loki's suffering, his pain, his tears.

Tony was saving himself- in the name of sparing Loki.

The realization put a bad taste in his mouth, labeled him as a coward, and intensified the pain where his heart still beat.

He wanted to rip out that traitorous organ and stomp on it.

Obadiah Stane looked out the window of Howard Stark's office, which he had taken over in the wake of the billionaire mogul's death. A cigar seeped smoke, coloring the atmosphere a dusky, musty grey. It filled his nose, scenting the office with cigar and old men and business- just as it had before the senior Stark's death. Nothing much had really changed. Stane had been running the company for almost a year before Howard's death, for the man had been crippled by guilt for allowing his son to get abducted and nearly killed. It seemed ironic, considering their physically and mentally abusive relationship.

Stane had always wondered what would happen when Howard finally croaked. Would the world stop turning? Would everything- would society- crumble without his charismatic, powerful presence to lead and reign over the industrial world? And what of Stark Industries? Would it go downhill without the elder Stark's genius and brilliant business tyranny- because Howard was always a tyrant, with an iron fist and a sharp tongue. Fortunately, all of Stane's fears were unnecessary. Tony stepped into his old man's shoes flawlessly, picking up the crown and taking the reins as if he had been running a multi-billion dollar company since birth. It had impressed Stane, the coldness with which he had handled his father's death and the ease with which he took on the company.

All too clearly, Stane remembered walking into the fourteen year old boy's room, and seeing the brown haired genius sprawled across the floor. Back then, he had found Tony special, he had even loved him like an uncle might love his nephew. The panic that had gripped him in a vise still came back to him when he thought of that night, seeing the young heir taken away in an ambulance, while he and his father looked on. But Howard hadn't gone to the hospital. He had instead, gotten a bottle of Jack and nearly drank himself into the same predicament as his son.

How classical. How expected. For a Stark never faces their deepest fears, not even within themselves. They lie and run and hide in their bottles and their affairs and their brilliance. People like Stane didn't have such comfort or luxuries. No, people like Stane had to watch over such loose canons, to make sure they didn't take the whole of society down with them. To make sure they didn't poison their brilliance with alcohol and drugs. To make sure there was someone their to resucitate them when they slit their wrists or swallowed a bottle of pills. That was Stane's role. And he had been in such a role for too long.

It was his time, now. And some pathetic brat who couldn't keep his nose clean and be a respectable, decent human being was not going to stand in his way. Not any longer. Stane had taken down one Stark monarch.

How easy it was going to be to taken down the other.

If Stane had to watch the world burn, he would be holding the torch.

Loki smoked in the car, watching the filthy snow crowd the street as they sped towards the campus. The smoke flooded the air in front of him before dissipating and spreading through the overpowering oxygen surrounding it. Sometimes, Loki felt like smoke, crowded by so much oxygen that it made him lessen until he disappeared- never to be seen again. Sometimes, he felt like his personality was so overtaken by that of the people around him, that his own ceased to exist. Sometimes, Loki felt invisible, like a social chameleon.

And considering the way the man beside him was silent and withdrawn, Loki soon would be too. Or, he could hope for that. He could hope for the apathy and numbness that had taken over his boyfriend in the past few hours. They had barely spoken since Loki got back. And Loki hated it. He hated the way he was cut off from his best friend and only love. He hated seeing him muddle and struggle through whatever inner pain was plaguing him- and Loki completely incapable of lessening the burden that weighed those young, broad shoulders down.

He wondered, idly, what Anthony thought when he saw him. Did he see a blessing, or a burden? Did he see happy moments, or cruel memories? Was Loki a cure, or a curse to the engineer? Was he like that device in his chest, that gleamed dimly through the thin fabric of his button-up, collared shirt? Was he saving Anthony's heart? Or was he the shrapnel in that deceitfully strong-appearing chest, just waiting to rip through the fragile walls of that beating, pulsating organ?

Letting the smoke fill his lungs, temporarily overwhelming that bully named Oxygen, he remembered the first time he had spoken to Anthony Stark.

Loki snarled down at his book, hating how the protagonist was portrayed as a power-greedy, jealous bitch- when in actuality he was just proving a point. He was as strong as the antagonist (which would win in the end, no doubt), and he wasn't taking anymore bullying. No one told this protagonist what to did, he did what he wanted. Authors and their foolish adoration for the 'good guy' with the morals and the hot babe on their arm. It irritated Loki to no end.

A shadow fell over his book, shading him from the relentless beating of the sun. He looked up into liquid brown eyes that were wide and hidden by a huge iris. The half-grin that beamed down at him was cocky and tanned by years under the same sun that watched them interact now. The brown hair shoved thoughtlessly off a creased forehead was the color of mud, kinky and curly. Loki was awed.

"Hiya, handsome." A wink was sent his way, and Loki felt his eyebrows and mouth turn down in an expression of disdain. "Whatcha reading?" This new, unintroduced creature- as irritating as he was beautiful- flopped on the grass beside him.

His book was snatched out of his hands, making him emit a growl from deep in his throat and pull his lips back in a snarl. "I was reading that, you know." His voice was deep and threatening because if this person- if he could be called such a thing because Loki was beginning to think he was Lucifer's twin brother or something- lost his place in that book, Loki would scratch his eyes out.

"Ah, I know this one. Pretty good, actually. I read it like three hundred years ago." The book was thrown on the grass a few feet away and suddenly, brown eyes filled his vision. "You're really pretty, y'know. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes look like the ocean? Like...Destin Beach, in Florida. My dad took me there once. Your eyes are the exact color of those waters." He smiled softly, making Loki's heart stutter like a nervous school girl. "Funny, they were so much clearer than your eyes."

Loki almost choked. Really, he hadn't been...'attracted' to someone in almost a year. The things that scarred his mind from his last relationship were too hard to ignore, to hard to forget. Forgive he never would, but forget he must.

"My eyes are fine, thank you." He shoved the man back gently.

The boy laughed. "Hey, don't get your panties in a wad, princess. It was a compliment." The beautiful creature stood to his feet a little unsteadily. Loki squinted up at him- was he high? "My name's Tony Stark, and I pretty much own the fucking world. You need anything, you let me know, gorgeous." He winked, making Loki scowl once again- did this guy make a fucking living by making Loki turn into a pissy bitch?- and walked off.

His mind was spinning. Did Tony Stark just call him gorgeous? And he was not a princess.

Loki smiled softly at the memory. The only time reminiscing ever brought a smile to his face was when it involved Anthony Stark. The cigarette smoke seeped out of his nose, flowing out in front of him and clouding his view of the windshield.

"You look like some sort of actor from the 40s." Anthony's voice almost made him jump out of his skin. He had been stuck back in a world where every word from the inventor's mouth had been slightly slurred and spoken in a light, teasing tone. But the young man beside him- nearly two years older- sounded darker, deeper, more mature. Loki wasn't sure it was a good thing.

"Is that a compliment?" He smirked, catching brown eyes gazing at him as they idled at a red light. Snow was starting to fall with the rain around them, making the windshield wipers work harder under the burden.

"Mmm. My pulse thinks so." He winked, but it wasn't the same. Something had changed in those past two years, subtly. So subtly, so subversive that Loki didn't notice.

Was it Loki? Had he changed Anthony? Surely, he wasn't the Oxygen taking over innocent smoke and making it disappear in his sweet inventor? The thought repulsed him. He had never wanted to change Anthony, not even his addictive personality or his womanizing ways- although both had had the ability to end their shaky relationship.

"Have-" Loki started, only to break off when Anthony hit a patch of black ice and fishtailed.

Terror clutched his heart. His eyes opened wide and watched as the car started to spin. In his peripheral vision, he saw Anthony's scarred hands scrambling across the wheel to manhandle the car back into submission. Screeching tires sounded in his ears as the car whirled and the cars near by desperately tried to get out of the way.

As suddenly as it began, it all came to a squealing stop. Loki was thrown forward against his seatbelt as the car slammed into the sidewalk and stopped against the hard snow. Anthony grunted beside him, having hit the steering wheel. But, before he could even ask if the young man was okay, long fingers were pushing him back and quickly unbuckling him. "Come on, get out."

He noticed he was blocked by a wall of snow, on his side. Anthony helped him crawl across the seats and climb out of the car. They were sitting on the icy lawn/sidewalk of the campus. "Holy shit." His heart was still sprinting in his chest, and he felt a little whoozy from the adrenaline.

Anthony's warm arm wrapped around his waist, clutching his side and practically supporting his weight. "Are you okay?" Familiar fingers wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to face brown eyes and a worried frown. "It happened so suddenly, I-I'm so sorry." Claws dug into his shoulders.

"No, I'm fine." He shook his head, still feeling light-headed and shocked. It was confusing, to go from spinning uncontrollably with one's life flashing before one's eyes, to standing in a snow and ice-covered grass lawn with one's boyfriend looking at you like you'd grown two heads.

"You're bleeding, Loki." Anthony brushed his forehead, and came back covered in blood.

He laughed. "That's nothing. I've caused more blood myself." He shrugged. "Besides, it'll stop soon from the cold. Let's go inside." He threaded their fingers together, pulling him towards the dorms.

"Are you sure? I think you need to go to a hospital, Lo." Anthony tugged him to a stop outside the door. Within, were a plethora of college students, just waiting for Anthony to cross the thresh-hold.

He sighed, pulling Anthony closer and pushing his fingers up into unruly, muddy curls. "I'm positive. No broken bones, skulls intact, skeletons attached. We're fine. We got lucky. Now, lets ride the adrenaline and be happy, okay?" And yeah, when had Loki become a hippie? Be happy? Happy? Did such a word exist in his vocabulary?

A smile spread across Anthony's weary face. "Okay. Although, we might need to get you checked for a concussion if you keep up with this 'be happy' bullshit." He teased, nudging Loki's ribs playfully.

The door opened and Anthony stepped through. A resounding "Surprise!" echoed across the campus as a grin spread widely across that warm, tanned face and lights exploded prettily in big, brown puppy dog eyes.

He spun, looking at Loki with suspicion. "You...you sneaky little fucker." He was caught in warm arms and spun around as the crowd laughed. "I love you." Was whispered in his ear, and warmth sneaked through his veins insidiously.

Maybe everything could be okay, in the end.

"I love you too." He whispered.

Tony laughed at Clint, who was smirking, sitting up on the bar and shooting arrows at a bull's eye across the room. people were betting left and right that he couldn't hit this or that, while Loki, Tony, and Natasha (the select few who had known of his talent before tonight) watched in wise amusement. Loki let the archer pull him close- hell, Clint was drunker than even Tony, at this point- and show him how to hold the bow. Letting loose the string he had pulled back, the arrow went flying into the target, less than an inch from the bull's eye.

Natasha, Steve, Clint, Thor and his girlfriend all let out a cheer and a few whistles, while Tony pulled his skinny boyfriend in for a sloppy kiss. Loki scowled at him playfully. "You smell so good." He murmured into the raven hair, holding Loki to his chest. He felt the resounding chuckle come through the other's chest. "I don't ever want to smell anything else."

But you're dying, Tony. You can't keep him any more. You gotta let go. What was that saying? If you love something, set it free? He scowled, burying his face in Loki's fluffy, plush curls, allowing the alcohol and the intoxicating smell of everything Loki consume his senses and cloud his brain. The bony teenager was laughing, hugging Tony's arms around his chest and leaning back against him comfortably.

Tony wanted to burn every second of this moment into his psyche, so he could never forget it. So he would remember it, even in death. Whatever awaited him, he wanted to carry this memory with him to the 'other side'. Because if anything was holy or ethereal or to be revered, it was Loki. Loki was his god, his religion, his heaven or nirvana or paradise. It was all Loki, and if anything on this earth or in the otherworlds he didn't understand or know of, Loki deserved his veneration.

He twisted curls around his fingers, feeling the rough silk slip and slide between the scars and old burns that marred his digits. Another long gulp of whiskey, and ever-familiar feel of liquid fire burning down his throat. It sparked against his vocal chords. It charred as it ran down him, into his stomach, where it roiled uneasily. The nerves in Tony's body all felt on edge, jumpy, unsettled. Because he knew, he knew he had to do it soon. If he didn't, all his well-laid plans would be ruined, demolished by his inability to break his own heart and hurt the one person on earth he truly loved.

"How's it feel to finally be legal, Tony?" Clint teased, earning him a disapproving glare from Steve. "Does the whiskey taste any different?" The smile on his face eased Tony's nerves a little.

"It tastes like freedom!" He raised a glass to a cheer from the small crowd in the room.

It was a lie. All Tony felt was caged and suffocated. He was a dead man walking, after all.

Loki lay on the bar. Tony grinned down at him, watching one saturnine eyebrow raise. "This is a one-time thing, and only because it's your birthday." By this time, their both a level above drunk that no one else in the room has attained.

It's pretty much the after-party, just Tony's closest friends plus Natasha. Pepper was sulking in a corner, but now she was laughing along with the rest of them. "I promise, you'll love it." Loki rolled his eyes and squirmed.

"Just hurry up and get it over with." His words slurred a little, the only obvious indicator that he was drunk enough to fall flat on his face- had he been Tony Stark, anyways.

Doing a jello shot off Loki Laufeyson's stomach was probably going to be the highlight of Tony's life. The cool feel of it sliding down his throat as he pressed his lips to Loki's, letting the boy sit up but never out of his arms, out of his sight. It was the last little bit of paradise before everything fell to pieces around his ankles. Everything was crumbling, everything was going to be over too soon. And he could feel it, the rumblings of change and heartache. The pangs in his chest from the palladium and failing arc reactor were almost intolerable, but he kept a smile on his face...for Loki.

Everything was for Loki. As much as he may lump Pepper and Steve and Hawkeye in with Loki, that he was saving them and trying to make everything easier for them once he was gone- it wasn't true. Tony had never cared before, when he was risking his life every night and day, taking far more Adderall than he had needed, attempting to drink himself to blood poisoning more than a few times, and driving drunk. He had never cared. He had only given a shit when Loki came into his life.

Tony thought it funny that the best thing in one's life, could end up being the most heartbreaking.

"Loki...I love you." He murmured, nuzzling Loki's neck as they stood side-by-side, fingers intertwined, Loki leaning against him sleepily.

"Mmm. I love you too, birthday boy." He smiled at Tony, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him sleepily. "You seemed so happy." His words seemed to audibly tilt, slurring more the drowsier and drunker he got. "I love seeing you happy. I missed it, baby." Their mouths weren't a centimeter apart, their eyes so deep in each other they might as well have delved into each other's souls.

This was a Loki he had fallen in love with a thousand times over. The Loki that was so drunk off his ass that there was no reticent filter any longer. He was just himself, the Loki that hid behind reservation and eloquence and that mercurial misanthropy that had almost made the teenager a recluse. That was the Loki that Tony had always loved the most. That was the Loki he had fallen in love with first, and that was the Loki he wanted to remember the longest.

"We can't do this any longer, Lo." His voice was cracking, he could hear it through the blood roaring in his ears. Loki frowned, his eyebrows pushing low over his forest-colored eyes. "We always knew it had to come to an end. And...it is. Now." There was a lump forming in his throat that would soon prevent all speech unless it was accompanied by a volley of tears that he hadn't seen since he was fourteen and swallowing a bottle of pills. Perhaps suicide comes in a variety of different ways. Perhaps this was his second attempt. Perhaps this time...he wouldn't fail. No one would come in and save him, there was no grown-up to scoop him off the floor- dazed and half unconscious- and call an ambulance and be the father he had never had. This time, no one was going to stop him. This time, no one really could.

Loki's eyes were disbelieving. "What- I don't understand. You seemed so happy." He pulled back, severing the chords that had performed a symphony for Loki in his chest. "I thought...Is it someone else?" He shook his head, obviously trying to process it all. Natasha was starting to notice that something was wrong.

"Loki, it's over. It would never have worked-" He started, reaching towards Loki.

"It was working, Stark! What the fuck are you talking about? It was working." He gripped his t-shirt, they were nose-to-nose and Loki's eyes were glistening. One tear was trekking down a deathly white cheek. "You can't just say you love someone and pull this shit and expect that it's going to be okay. You can't tell someone you love them and then just say it's over! That's not how it goes! You don't give someone your heart and then all of a sudden, decide you want it back." He laughed, pulling back. And Tony could see that same unhinged expression that had been written all over his face when he dealt with Odin that last time- the time that had nearly broken them both. Physically and mentally. "I guess that's where I'm wrong, huh? You never did give me your heart. I was just the foolish fucker who gave away mine to the womanizing asshole with a bottomless bank account and the arrogance to think he can treat me like a toy." He shoved Tony away fully, tears pouring down his face. "I'm not a toy, Stark." He sniffed, running the back of his hand across his face- looking so much like a small child that Tony just wanted to hug him and say he was sorry and pretend like it would be okay for the next week that he might have left. But that wouldn't be fair, to either of them. This had to be done. He was doing the right thing- or so he told himself. "I'm not." His voice broke, and the tears fell, and the hearts broke.

"I know, Loki. I'm so sorry. You'll understand. I swear, you'll understand in just a few days, or a week. Just...give it time." He struggled to remember that phrase about time. If he could just remember, Loki might understand. Maybe he'd stop crying.

"Time does not heal something like this! Are you kidding me! Stark, I gave you everything." He was yelling and Tony was crying like a baby- even though he'd been raised to never cry in public- and the world was starting to disintegrate around them. "I gave you my heart and soul and my...body." He shrugged. "Does that mean nothing now? Was it all just a stupid lie? Was it a game to you? Or are you like every other man in my life- do you think I am nothing but something to beat up and break? Am I just a doll you can abuse?" The pain etched across Loki's face in the subtle white ink of his skin broke Tony's heart into the smallest of pieces, which would never be put back together. Soon, shrapnel would pierce through that heart and end its misery.

"Your dad was right, Loki. You're nothing. To me, or anyone else." And the tears are choking him now, making him sound strangled and like his throat had been ripped by long claws- like Loki's- and everything felt as raw as it must've been because he's never felt this torn wide open. It felt like the whole world- or maybe it was just Loki's piercing green eyes- was looking at him, and his fucked-up soul, and his cowardly heart that wasn't even a heart anymore. It was a piece of chewed up, stomped upon, stitched together and torn apart meat. It barely pumped anymore.

He couldn't wait for it to be shredded by little pieces of metal, because when Loki looked at him like that- so terribly young and terrified and broken- he didn't want to live any longer.

"Oh." It was a simple word. Spoken in a simple, impregnable tone. And it seemed to shake the earth.

Loki threw on his jacket, and Tony could do nothing but stare. This is what he had wanted. This is what needed to be done. He was doing the right thing. That's what he repeated over and over to himself, desperately, as Loki disappeared out the door- with Natasha running after him and everyone staring at him.

With a feral, broken growl, Tony swept every last glass off the bar and onto the floor. "Fuck!"

If he didn't get angry, he'd die right where he stood from heartbreak.

Loki was running, running through snow and slipping across the icy patches that littered the sidewalk and lawn of the campus. He knew where he was running, but it didn't register until he was taking the stairs two-at-a-time and wheezing so hard his broken ribs were hurting like the devil. The pain was welcome, so welcome.

Banging on Thor's door at 3 a.m. was not where he had seen his life heading a few short hours ago. Sure, he had known something was off about his boyfriend- but he had not been expecting this. This was life-altering and heartbreaking and so many emotions that he couldn't take the time to comprehend. Not right now. And when a bleary-eyed Thor opened the door, Loki collapsed under the pressure of everything bearing down on him. Natasha skidded up to them. Seeing Loki in Thor's arms, she wrapped her arms around him as well. He was enveloped in warmth, the love of a brother and a best friend- and yet it didn't come close to comparing to the embrace he should've been wrapped in, at home, in bed, with his lover.

After a moment, he stood straight, looking up at Thor with swimming eyes. He felt like a noodle, boneless and weak and exhausted. He was spent. "Can I stay here tonight? My...My dorm key is at...his place." He couldn't even say his name. How could he speak what was branded so clearly on his heart? Couldn't they see it? Couldn't they see the effect this irritating, flawed, damaged, broken, genius young man had had on him? And his heart? And the very strands of his soul? Couldn't anyone see how this was already tearing him apart?

It had been ten minutes, and Loki feels like his been through the Valley of Death, and was being dragged through hell by his toenails. He's pretty sure he looks like it too, but who does he have to impress now?

"Of course, sweetheart." And suddenly, Thor's become this great big teddy bear that uses pet names like 'sweetheart' and he ushers him inside, calling him 'honey' and 'baby' and 'darling'- keep in mind, Loki's never heard these words come out of his big brother's mouth- and giving him a big t-shirt he's only seen the man in a thousand times. He tells Loki that he can have his room, and goes out, Natasha hot on his heels after pressing a slightly dazed kiss to Loki's cheek.

Loki stands there for a good five minutes, in the middle of the room, and just stares at the closed doors. He's not sure if it's really hit him yet- he's not sure he wants it too. But he does know one thing. He knows what he must do to get through this. He knows it wont be pretty- because what in Loki's life ever is?- and he knows it's going to be the most painful process of his life.

The plans are laid out in his head like a blueprint. Funny, how everything kicks into hyperdrive when we feel like just processing a few emotions might be too much to handle. Funny how we suddenly know how to handle everything logically, even if something like love or heartache is too much to comprehend. Funny, how Loki knows he's been through hell- he just can't feel it yet.

And isn't it funny, how none of this is even remotely funny- yet he wants to laugh till his stomach hurts?

Fun Fact #32: This is Loki at his lowest point. This is Loki after realizing that good people hurt good people. That the villain isn't always the bad guy. That sometimes, the hero fucks up too. That sometimes, moral just doesn't apply. That sometimes, the heart is the true villain, the true bad guy. And the bare bones truth of it all is, nothing makes sense. Everyone lies. And everyone will break your heart.

Now, he merely had to cope with it.

And there's only one way Loki copes with tragedy- even on a merely emotional scale.

A blade.

There's music blaring, and he doesn't know where he is. But quiet honestly, he's pretty sure he doesn't even care at this point. Only a few more days. He can tell because now even alcohol doesn't numb the pain or make him forget. He can't remember how long it's been since Loki disappeared out of the rest of his very short lifespan. He doesn't want to either.

Tony just wants to go quietly. So he lays down and prays to whatever god there is, that they'll take him now.

Loki gripped the counter tightly, watching the blood run in crimson rivulets down his pallid skin. Cuts criss-crossed, oozing and screaming pain. His knuckles were bone-white, like claws as they dug into the granite. The razor was a shiny, carmine-stained silver. It gleamed in the haze of the tears finally racing into his eye-sockets, making his vision go out of focus. It was like drowning. Incapable of drawing a breath without a harsh sob escaping his red, chapped lips and waking his big, oblivious brother in the adjoining room.

His nails bent under the strain of his grasp. The creaked and scratched as he held to the bathroom counter for dear life. Choking. He was choking on his own tears, drowning in his own blood, asphyxiating in his own sorrow. His demons were flaying his flesh from the inside-out. And weren't they always right there when he needed them? Just waiting for his life to decay and implode, so that they could make a comeback. And what a comeback they had made, from the sight of his red, irritated, blood, ripped arms.

Sucking in a breath, he stood straight, looking into red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

"You will get through this, if you die trying."

What the fuck had happened?

And where was Loki?

Maybe he had been taking the steps towards this end for a lot longer than he had ever realized.

Tony had always known he would die young. He just hadn't realized it would be this young. And he hadn't realized how painful death could be.

A/N: -sits patiently and awaits the inevitable lynch mob-. I'm sorry. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person.

Please review. This is the last chapter- shhhhhh, don't kill me yet. There is an epilogue, though. And then, the end. Of this part. I don't know. I'm probably going to turn this into a series because I'm fucking sentimental and I've become super-duper attached to these beautiful fuckers. AND THEY NEED HAPPINESS.

So, review, babies. Tell me what you think. Seriously.

AND AGAIN, I apologize for taking so long with this. It took me like...six tries to write this. Because, it's a bitch and it made me really sad (like i wasn't sad already?) and life's a bitch, ya know the drill. AND IT'S THE LAST "CHAPTER" AND OMF I MIGHT CRY.

I LOVE YOU ALL.

I hope you had tissues.

~xoxox, Rayn.

p.s. I know a lot of you have mentioned being able to really relate with these characters. Considering the massive amount of emotional shit I have put these guys through, that's really made me think. So, I decided to start an email (Yes, I know this site has private messaging, shush) for people to email me to vent, to talk, to just have someone who's not involved in whatever is going on to just be there, whatever you need. It's trickstergod_ofasgard yahoo . Yep, made it in Loki's name and everything. Also, you can just request that I not answer, if you just need to vent. To get it all out to someone who will keep everything completely between you and I. It will be completely private. I just want you all to know that there's somewhere safe, someone you can talk to no matter what's going on.

I really love you guys, okay? Don't suffer alone.