Love You, Lost You.

Almost (Sifki- Sad)

Lady Sif struggled through her dinner, forcing the food into her mouth, down her throat.

She didn't taste any of it.

Every time someone cheered for New Asgard, every time someone celebrated the defeat of Thanos, she almost threw up.

Her anger climbed inside.

At the head of the table, she could see Thor trying to appear a happy victorious king to his people. She knew she should talk to him, should say something, but she wouldn't.

Thor had lost his brother.

Sif had lost her love- one she hadn't even been brave enough to tell of her feelings, despite all her bravado and courage.

Once in her life had Sif been a coward, and now that regret would haunt her forever.

Sif could bear it no more. Pushing back from the table, she crept from the room. She fought back her tears the whole trip to her quarters, even managing a smile and greeting to a passing Asgardian.

She slipped inside her room when she finally arrived and closed the door behind her, not even bothering to turn on the light.

By memory, she reached to the back of the bottom drawer beside her bed, pulling out a leathery coat. Sinking weakly to the floor, she pulled it closely around herself, trying to find a trace of the familiar scent.

She thought she could still smell it, but it was probably just a memory. She'd never have admitted it, but she'd memorized it.

It was Loki.

Those fierce blue eyes. That aggravating mouth, never far from a grin. His sharp nose and cheekbones, so firmly printed in her mind that she could just about see him for real.

Just about.

Sif wrapped Loki's coat tighter, stifling a sob. He'd always been there, annoying the heck out of her, teasing her, joking around- and now he wasn't.

It may have meant nothing to him, he'd only have used it to tease her, but she should have said the words.

It had always been maybe next time.

She was out of next times.

She was out of time.

There had been times when she was almost sure he loved her too, and then others where she felt confident he did not.

Even though he most likely hadn't, she should have tried.

Should have told the truth.

Told him the truth.

The coat, though sleeveless, was far too big, but she didn't care. Sif wanted Loki to hold her- now this was as close as she would ever get.

She ran her fingers over it, trying to remember his touch.

He'd kissed her once, as a joke, and it had infuriated her because she'd liked it. She had been so mad as he laughed and teased her about it.

Now, that was to be her only true love kiss.

Her first- and last.

And she'd never even gotten to kiss him back.

Sif's fingers brushed something inside of Loki's coat as she traced around every detail.

Hesitantly, she reached in, realizing it was a pocket. Her fingers grasped paper.

She paused, then pulled it out.

It was a folded piece of paper, random notes, names, and words scribbled across it.

In Loki's writing.