Loki Oneshots

Come Home

Carefully prying the window open, you slip inside the room that's given you nightmares for the past few months. Okay, perhaps they're the exact opposite of nightmares - they're beautiful dreams of you and him dancing, smiling, laughing in this very room. But they remind you of what you've lost, each and every moment haunting you like a ghost.

You look around - almost everything is exactly as you remember, though slightly more unkempt and rather... lifeless. This room alone used to be warm and bright and lived in, the walls full of colour and the air full of sweet smells of food or perfume. 

But now the air holds a biting cold; long, dark shadows spread across the floor and walls, sucking out all of the colour that once lit up your life. You can only smell him - that heavenly yet poignant aroma that sits quietly on blankets void of warmth and surfaces void of use. The bed looks slept in, but only on one side: your side. You sigh as those familiar daggers begin to prod once more at your scarred heart.

You daren't venture further into the house, lest your resolve finally crumbles at the sight of it all; or, perhaps worse, if he is here. As much as you'd love to see him, you don't know what you'll say. It's inevitable for him to have many questions, but the answer lies in the letter you hold tightly in your clammy hands, your grip slightly creasing the edges of the envelope.

This damned letter... it had taken weeks to create. Weeks of procrastination and nights with paper on your lap and a pen in your hand attempting to find the right words. There was many a time you planned on ditching it and moving on with your life, but giving him an explanation as to why you suddenly disappeared is the very least you can do.

You inhale deeply, eyes flitting over every inch of dusty surface to find a spot to place this envelope where he'll see it. You had thought about posting it - it would be easier and he'd definitely find it. But you didn't want it to get lost in transit and you're not sure if you could've scraped together enough to buy a stamp; you would've had to have skipped a meal for the sixth time that week. Delivering it yourself is also an excuse for you to say goodbye one final time.

There's a creak as the door opens; you automatically fall into a fighting stance, turning to face the intruder. 

But it's not an intruder at all.

He's frozen in the doorway, his once vibrant green eyes now muted in colour as his gaze flits over you.

"Y/n?" He asks quietly.

"Loki..." You breathe. His face is sunken, his cheekbones more defined and the twinkle in his eyes has been snuffed out. Deep, grey eyebags sit uncomfortably under his eyes and his once luscious, ebony hair hangs limp and greasy around his face.

And yet, as much as his dishevelled appearance disturbs you, he's also just as beautiful as when you first met him.

He takes a step forwards; cautiously, as if you may just disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Where have you been?" His voice is strained, tears welling in his eyes.

You take a short breath, unsure if you're still able to breathe. You don't know what to say; don't know how to answer. He's hurt. So hurt. And it's all because of you. He's left call after call and voicemails galore, all of which you've ignored. He can't be involved in this. You can't let him get injured - or worse - because of you. Though, you realise now, that perhaps it would've been less painful for him to have followed you to the grave.

You shake the thought away. This is better for him. He'll get over it, move on and find someone who actually deserves him.

You can't find the words to respond, your mouth opening and closing stupidly as streaks of despair slowly etch into your face.

"Please answer me," He cries. "I've been looking for you everywhere, I've called hundreds of times, I've done everything I can think of! You just disappeared as if you were never here. I didn't even know if you were alive, Y/n,"

A single tear slips silently down your face, resting on the pillow of your cheek. Words still evade you, thoughts coming and going in a jumbled up mess.

"It's been months! Months since you disappeared without a trace, leaving me here all alone! Do you not understand how hard that's been for me?" His anger has started to bleed into his words and actions now; you don't blame him. You too would be angry and upset if he'd left without a goodbye, let alone an explanation.

You still stay silent, which just seems to rile him up further.

"Why aren't you speaking!? Is this all some way of torturing me? Did I do something to mess this all up?"

He lets out a choked sob, each word sending you further and further into a black hole of despondency.

"You know what? I really needed you," A single note of bitter laughter escapes his cracked, dry lips. "I needed you, and you weren't there!"

You swallow a lump in your throat, the room falling silent save for Loki's deep breathing. There's a pang of pain in your heart as you decide what you're going to do. Reaching over to a nearby bookshelf, you drop the letter on the nearest shelf and look back to the God, tears freefalling down both faces.

"I'm so sorry, Loki," Your voice won't come out louder than a whisper. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you turn on your heel and jump through the window and onto the streets before you have a chance to hear his voice anymore. You can hear him calling after you, but don't dare to look back as you run down the street, dipping into a narrow, abandoned alley.

Your hand covers your mouth as you slide down the dirty wall of the building, stifling your sobs as everything begins to unravel. You don't know what to do. Your head keeps telling you to move; to leave Loki to live his life. He'll get better. He'll find happiness.

But your heart wants you to run back to him and make it all better again.

You pull out your phone and dial your voicemail, giving in to the temptation of the many messages Loki had left you.

"Hi love, it's Loki. Where are you? I just arrived home-"

You listen to each and every one, allowing the tears to fall harder and faster as you hear him become more frantic; more desperate. Until finally, the last one plays.

"Please Y/n. Please answer my calls. I-" There's a deep, shuddering breath on the other end of the line. "I love you so, so much. I can't lose you. Please, just... just come home,"

A long beep signals the end of the voicemail, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.