The Old Scars | Loki Hurt/Comfort

Relish the Relapse

Y/N's POV:

It was 3 am, and where else would I be than on my way to the common room? Melatonin had no chance to defeat the desperation currently filling my whole body. I didn't feel a hint of sleepiness.

Dragging my feet, I passed the large couches while on my way to the drawers. Having my eyes burned by the lights automatically turned on in the hallway a few minutes before significantly impacted my ability to navigate through the HQ. However, the way to the common room was one I knew well.

What Loki and Thor had revealed in that fateful conversation had been the straw that broke the camel's back. I was putting more effort in than ever before, but at this point it was simply too much. Just putting the past days behind me as if nothing had happened was something far out of my capabilities.

Stitching one's mouth shut with a physical needle and yarn? Beating your adopted son while praising who he thinks is his brother by blood?

Fingers trembling ever so slightly, I fumbled for the handle of a large vertical cupboard. A short hesitancy grabbed me as my hand rested on the metal. Nevertheless, what sense would it make to return empty-handed now?

I sighed and, after quickly checking the bottles to choose from, was on my way back to the privacy my small apartment offered. I didn't bother getting a glass. That Scotch was mine now.

What I was about to do was far from wise. However, there was no other way. How bad could risking years of recovery be when it was the only way out?

Still, this wasn't even the thought I hated myself most for at the moment. Even worse was the mere realization that I felt - in some way - jealous of Loki. Most definitely not of his youth or life in general and obviously not of all his other problems. I'd never wish anyone a life as hard as his and he shouldn't have to live it either. But yet one single twisted thought made me envy his situation: He had been able to release all of this for a moment, to mute his voices for a second.

Understandably, he wasn't proud of it, but nevertheless, he had succumbed to his urges.

Don't you fucking think like that, Y/N! This is pure invalidation, gaslighting!

What? Loki's pain had unwillingly made the prospect of a relapse, succumbing to my own urges, incredibly attractive.

Before I reached my room, I had already broken the bottle's seal and taken a first deep gulp. The years without the burning and tingling sensation instantly felt like wasted time.

Having arrived in my bedroom, I sat down against the wall, hand clasping the bottle of whisky tightly. Why was the best stuff in life always what you couldn't have? All I was asking for was a release, some kind of relief, but I was given nothing but the order to control myself and keep the bad habit suppressed. There were no exceptions made on the way to recovery, and maybe that was its point.

However, right now, I didn't want to be rational anymore. I didn't want to control the urge. I didn't want to fight it because I no longer could.

My free hand clenched into a fist, the other holding the cool glass bottle close to me. My knuckles had to be turning white by, but the darkness in the room made it impossible to confirm the thought. All there was was hate, anger, and fury burning in my veins, caused by Thor, by Odin, by myself, channeled by the precious Scotch gulped down with undignifying haste.

You are ruining everything. They had to stop you from drinking because you couldn't get away from it on your own.

Why would I care? Hasn't everything ruined me?

I remained sat down on the floor. Was there even any reason to? All I wanted was to be allowed to drown myself in the misery building up, giving in to everything my mind could possibly offer.

The burning liquid kept rationality and common sense at bay with ease, clearing the way for all the unhealthy coping mechanisms I had assembled over the years.

This was without question a downhill ride, and I had just thrown the brakes out of my wagon.

Loki, what have they done to you? How did they dare make you feel like that?

Couldn't Bruce or Tony see this was not easy for me to cope with? They didn't know, did they?

How would they know if you never gave them a chance to?

Loki's scars and fresh cuts flashed through my mind over and over again.

I couldn't bear this. To feel anything else was what I wanted so badly.

Before I realized what I was doing, I sunk my teeth into my left forearm with a newfound passion. Finding no grip on ell and spoke, my jaw slid until nothing but skin and fat were left between my teeth. I bit down harder, not yet satisfied.

Deeper! What is stopping you?!

At the much-missed sensation, a reviving wave of vitality surged in my whole body, instantly overriding my brain's priorities. No thoughts, just the warmth of the alcohol and the tingling of the nerves in my arms as I didn't want to ever cease this bitter act of sweet relief. A drop of saliva ran down from the corner of my mouth, and I only unclenched my jaw to get another gulp of Scotch down my throat.

A/N:

I hope y'all are doing fine. 

So I decided to scrap my second draft to change the topic of the entire chapter and wrote this in about four hours. I am aware the chapter is rather short, however, I won't be at home until after the release date I promised you.

Please note that I do not intend to gaslight or invalidate Loki in any way! I hope you get what I try to express in this chapter.
Don't worry, the content will shortly be back to Loki.

Feel free to comment your opinion and consider voting for the story if you enjoy reading it!