Powerlessness ( Loki x Reader )

II.

   Before this began, I had no prior knowledge of who or what I was.

I knew I could do things differently than other people, knew I felt things that others didn't, that I saw and heard things other people could not. But I didn't know exactly how or what made this possible, what made me possible. I just went with it. To me it was as simple as one person knowing how to dance and the other lacking the rhythm to, different types of normals coexisting in a world of individuality. I mean it's not like you walk around everyday always thinking of the life of a man bound to a wheel chair. You do what you do without any real thought, a reflex, an instinct.

"Alright, (Y/N). Let's go over this one more time before we go."

I nodded. "You got it, Mr. Rogers." 

But in a literal sense of my analogy, it wasn't the ability to dance that I had against others, but the ability to feel. 

And when I say "feel" I mean that in the most literal sense possible. I feel everything. Down to the very atoms in the air, everything functioned like a muscle. Tendons in my fingers; the molecules that floated among me bent like joints in my arms. I was a single body stretched over galaxies, Quasars toppling the Himiko Cloud, the carbon core of 55 Cancri e; the ethyl formate particles floating throughout the cloud of Sagittarius B2. All at once yet one at a time, I am anything; I am everything.

Yet now at 20 years old, a body of all that is and that will be; I remain without an identity. An assemblence of all truths I still find myself questioning: what am I?

"Over there." He pointed in the direction of the gas despenser.

"I'm feeling like.... Diamonds." He shrugged.

I nodded and focused on the clouds of smoke, rearranging it's molecules in a compressed conga line of glistening particles. The density increasing with each stroke of my atomic art brush, quickly reconstructing gas into solid; vapor into diamond.

Harshly, the ball of raw sparkling material hit the ground with a loud clack. I smiled proudly.

An approving pat at the back of my shoulder followed Steve's congratulative words. "Now that's what you call progress." He smirked.

I checked my watch while starting for my things. "Any reason why we're wrapping up so early? It's only 9pm, we usually pack up around ten."

"I have a few things I need to check up on before twelve hits, I decided it be best if I left a little a earlier today. Besides, your birthday's tomorrow!" He said gleefully. "- And you know I gotta be there for your first drink."

I chuckled. "That's really sweet of you, Mr. Rogers; but I've decided to stay in for my birthday."

"What?! Of course we're- No, no, no, we're celebrating! It's you're 21st birthday, (Y/N). Not only that, but tomorrow marks the three year anniversary of your enlistment to S.H.I.E.L.D. It's a day worth celebrating- for both of us." He argued.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't go out very much, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for a place as populated as a bar is. Especially on a Friday night."

"Hey, you'll be fine. You know I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, I'll be beside you the whole time. And if at any point you feel too overwhelmed; I can just take us back home and we can finish the night off with cake and a movie marathon. But you have to have at least one drink." He persuaded.

I glanced at him, hopelessly won over by his almost childlike  excitement. "Fine." I groaned in defeat. "Wait, can I pick all the movies?"

He laughed. "Yes, you can to pick all the movies."