Soulmates - Loki Laufeyson

chapter thirteen

Loki had learned a great deal during those days. That the Midgardians' books were interesting, that Peter Parker was the only human being on the planet who seemed to have no prejudice against him and appreciate him for who he was, that Tony Stark often took coffee with a shot of spirits and that regaining his powers made him feel more alive than ever.

It had been a long process, but they had finally made it. Even if something, in a remote corner of his brain, still bothered him: that episode. That vision.

Together they tried to give each other an answer, but nobody seemed to know anything about it. And this continued to stress him out in spite of everything.

Nevertheless, he could not call himself alone on this tortuous, almost damnded journey. Quite the opposite.

Even Stephen Strange, with whom there had never been good blood, seemed to let his guard down in his presence, and even though Loki had regained his powers and could feel the magic tingling in his palms when he got a little too loud, he clasped his hands together and flashed the sharpest, most venomous smile he could muster.

"I'm not interested" and "I don't think I want to participate" was all Loki said most of the time when one of them approached him.
Not out of malice, but he simply wanted to focus all of his energy on trying to travel through the different dimensions.

Peter Parker was a hard-headed one. He never let his no's get him down. Between a "Mr. Loki" and a "please," he always managed to soften his frayed nerves, and one way or another, the others watched them chatting quietly, almost jealously.

Peter said he felt he could tell him everything, because he seemed to understand him. Loki would have liked to tell him that being so close to him gave him a headache when his head was full of thoughts, but he always chose to smile and nod. The thought of hurting such a fragile and naive soul almost annoyed him. Until a few years ago it wouldn't have been like that, but things had definitely changed. For better, for worse, he did not know.

"I've been reading up on what you've done in the past," the boy had once told him, holding a mobile phone in his hands. Images of his attack on New York filled the screen. He had to clench his hands hard not to snatch the strange device from his hands and throw it out of the window.

"And why did you do that?"

"You're an interesting person, Mr. Loki," he had said, placing the mobile phone back in his trousers pocket. "You seem totally different now. You don't plan to kill all of us.... Don't you?"

Thor, on the other hand, was still very worried about his brother. Loki could sense it. He could feel his thoughts and fears filling the room, his aura growing darker and heavier in his presence. Sometimes Loki tried to ignore the situation, but it wasn't always easy.

At times like this, Loki was glad to have a brother like Thor. Clearly, he could never tell him that. But he thought it, he really did.

It was all in the little attentions. When he talked to others, or listened to the spider child's chatter, he felt his brother's gaze practically devour him alive. He always had one eye on him, never leaving him. Perhaps he was more afraid than Loki himself.

He had talked about that incident with him, too, mostly. One night in particular, Loki had been cooped up in that study-laboratory, sitting comfortably on the couch looking out the large windows, watching the city and the sky slowly go dark.

Thor had entered the room quietly; with one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, his arms across his chest, he had cleared his throat. "Am I interrupting something?" he had asked.

Loki feigned surprise, but he knew he'd been watching him for a while now. Without turning around, he shook his head.
His brother moved small steps, heading towards the couch. He didn't sit down, just stood, and together they looked out over the city.