Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-03-30 21:51:00 |
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Unable to go back to patrols, he'd slipped out to head towards Butler. It was just late enough in the morning that he didn't need to worry about the need for protection spells or wandering around campus as his super powered self. He could go slowly, as regular old Billy, and feel whatever definition one could give for safety when it came to Derleth. And once he reached Butler? His gaze lifted and he looked ahead at the seemingly endless expanse of wreckage that remained. Despite the instruction to start looking for belongings and isolating them from the wreckage, it felt as though very little had changed. Sighing heavily, he pushed his hands up to brush his fingers through his hair, stopping midway. For a moment, he gripped the strands in tight fists, before exhaling and letting his hands fall down.
It was all beginning to feel just a little too much.
He'd not been looking for anything specific. He was just looking for things that seemed like belongings. A trunk of clothes. A carnival stuffed animal. An arm chair that didn't seem too broken. Everything he identified he moved off to the side. And maybe? Maybe it would have been more efficient to do this as his superpowered self. He could carry more at once, he could rush it out of the way and get more coverage done. But the exhaustion also made him want to just take a moment to be himself. He'd see how much coverage he could get before his next shift was able to start and if he wasn't happy with the headway he'd made after an hour or so? Then he'd reconsider.
It was about thirty minutes into the sorting and digging that his hand brushed against the edge of what felt like another trunk. He shoved a slab of concrete off the top and his eyes widened as he realized what it was. It had been his. The very foot locker he'd gotten from Wal-Mart in Orlando. But the latch was snapped and the trunk had turned over, spilling out the contents. Quickly, he shoved the trunk over to see if any of what he'd kept over the past few months was underneath.
He took note of some things. His Switch. Cases for games. Clothing that was no longer folded. His two lightswords.
And the blue one was snapped right in half.
Staring at it, he bent down to scoop up both pieces. The blue one had been intended for Freddy all along. Freddy, who had only been with Billy in Derleth for a total of maybe six days. Who had disappeared as quickly as he'd shown. Who Billy missed every single day. And though it was silly? Seeing the sword broken and held between both his hands? It was the final push and without even realizing it had been creeping up on him? Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he bowed his head.
Loki had been slowly decompensating for months. It didn’t show because he had the benefit of glamours and illusions to hide his disintegrating composure. But he had not been well for a long time. In truth, he hadn’t felt like himself since the week of the Matrix. He’d found a kind of comfort during his seven weeks in the so-called real world. It wasn’t the best world to live in, but he’d been thoroughly prepared to stay there and make it his home. He’d been a different kind of Loki in those weeks. A Loki who showed leadership and responsibility for the people from Derleth. His people he’d even referred to them whilst in conversation with one of the captains of the freed ships. He’d been determined to get them all together. To ‘save’ them from the Matrix and then rebuild that society which had crumbled beneath the machines. He hadn’t even cared that his powers were gone or that he looked like a hairless rat. He liked the Loki he’d been in those weeks. He wanted to be that Loki again.
But then the reset came. Again. And again. And Loki fell back into his old habits and routines. He was considerably grumpier. Easier to set off. And even though some things in his life seemed to improve, like his friendship with Doctor Strange and his budding whatever-it-was with Mobius, Loki was still depressed. He still felt like Derleth was purposefully trying to prevent him from achieving his true potential. Which, of course, was ridiculous.
Only Loki was preventing Loki from being the best version of himself.
This week, however, had been his last straw. He was close to hitting his breaking point. He hadn’t even seen his counterpart, but he didn’t need to. He saw the way his alter-ego had rattled the people Loki called friends. He recognized the game. The little tricks to foment unrest and suspicion. Then he witnessed the rampant destruction of Butler Hall, heard the cries of people desperate to toss aside the rubble in search of their friends and the painful howls of the kaiju, and a little part of Loki died inside. Not simply because he blamed himself or because he blamed the other version of himself—although he did—but because this was just another horrifying turn in a pattern of endless horrifying turns. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know how to change.
He’d gone to visit Mobius in the infirmary. Mobius hadn’t left Eliot’s side since he was found. Loki was ashamed that he hadn’t realized how important Eliot was to Mobius. He’d incorrectly assumed that their connection was merely based on their shared experience during the vampire week. But he was wrong. There was clearly something more there. The look Mobius wore, hunched over Eliot’s bedside, was one that Loki was very unfamiliar with. It was akin to what Loki imagined to be parental concern. Like a father worried for his son. Loki had many memories of his father, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing that fearful glimmer in Odin’s eyes. When Loki fell and scraped his knee, his father told him to get up and stop weeping. When he hurt himself trying to prove that he was just as strong as Thor, Odin gave him no sympathy. A king of Asgard could not show that kind of weakness and neither could its prince. When he’d returned after falling from the Bifrost, Odin could barely even look at him. And he’d never even visited him in the dungeons. So, seeing that pained expression on Mobius’s face for a man he’d known but a short time felt like a dagger to Loki’s heart.
This was something he would never have.
There was an eerie silence outside now that the battle, if it could even be called such, was over. He’d promised Thor he would join him for guard duty, watching the perimeter for any signs of another attack from the other Derleth. But he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. That’s how he came across Billy, bent over the debris of their former dormitory. Loki’s first thought? The boy shouldn’t have been out there alone.
Loki made his way over to him, carefully stepping over blocks of brick and concrete. If he noticed the tears—he did—he didn’t say anything. That wasn’t his place. And, truth be told, if he were Billy he wouldn’t want anyone pointing out his emotional fragility. “Avoiding the early curfew? Or does your new roommate snore? Matt does. I tried wearing ear plugs, but he still sounds like a chainsaw cutting down a never ending forest.”
Billy lifted his head when he heard the approach from another and for the briefest flash? There was worry about who it would be that was going to be witness to the vulnerability. It certainly wasn't something Billy wanted anyone in Derleth to see; especially when it could easily be perceived as crying over a broken toy. But the evident worry about being caught melted away as soon as Billy realized that it was only Loki.
It was still not ideal. Thus far in Derleth, only Stevie had ever seen him brought to tears. He hadn't wanted to add another to the list. And yet, Loki wasn't acknowledging it and Billy felt a sense of minor gratitude for this. Still, he gave the smallest hint of a smile at Loki's statement before he shook his head. "I haven't gone to bed," Billy stated as he resisted the urge to reach up and scrub at his eyes.
He cleared his throat, as an alternative effort to pull in the tears, before he gestured around him. "Natasha wanted us to find belongings. I was...doing that."
Only Loki.
And Loki was the last person who had the right to mock someone for their tears. Loki had spent a great deal of his life in tears. Tears of anger, tears of sadness, tears of grief. Tears for his mother, his father, his brother, for Asgard. Probably even a few tears for himself in there. Compared to most of the people in his family, Loki was a veritable waterworks. But that was the consequence of holding in one’s emotions. That was the risk he took by not opening up to other people and by keeping his feelings so close to his chest. Eventually the floodgates would break loose. Sometimes the emotion didn’t even have to be strong to elicit that glossy reaction from his eyes. That was one of Loki’s biggest secrets. It didn’t take much to make him cry.
But he was good at hiding it. Just as he was good at hiding most things. A deep breath, a quick illusion, and he could look as cool as a cucumber. Composed, calculated. It took a very keen eye to see through his facade.
Loki kicked at a few broken bricks and then crouched down to dig through the rubble. It was a haphazard motion. He wasn’t actually looking for anything. He was merely pretending. An action to make Billy feel less self-conscious about his own search.
“Do you need help looking? Or would you rather be alone?” Loki didn’t look at Billy directly when he asked the questions. A purposeful tactic to give the boy a chance to wipe away his grief without being noticed. But he did watch him out of the corner of his eye. He pushed aside another brick, revealing a hairbrush underneath. He picked it up and tossed it in the grass. “I wouldn’t want to go against Miss Romanoff’s wishes, but I don’t feel good about anyone being out here alone. There’s no telling who might be lurking around.”
Loki stood back and walked towards the edge of the rubble. “Do you mind if I wait around while you’re searching? Just as a lookout. I won’t bother you.”
With Loki's focus elsewhere, Billy took advantage of the chance to wipe at his eyes with the back of his arm. It was a quick gesture, with his hand falling back down, as he turned Loki's question over in his mind. Did he want to be alone in this moment? Eyes glancing back to the broken pieces in his hand, he knew the answer immediately. "No, I don't want to be alone," he responded in a quiet tone.
"No one? Or just me?" He questioned, glancing over in his direction. It didn't slip Billy's notice that Loki had been on his own before approaching him. Or perhaps it was that Loki's feelings on the matter were different for himself than the rest of Derleth's inhabitants. That would have made sense, Billy supposed. But he gave the smallest shrug of his shoulders, his throat still wanting to betray him again, "I do okay on my own." He held back the urge to emphasize how people should know that by now.
Because the truth was? He certainly seemed to frequently manage to escape true harm while living at Derleth. But he was never necessarily okay being all alone. It was why he'd taken so readily to Stevie and Loki over the months. He liked to have people he felt he could rely on. Still he found himself responding, "No, it doesn't bother me. If you don't mind staying."
Ooh. A trick question. Loki turned his attention to Billy, giving him his full focus in an attempt to read the boy’s body language. Should Loki lie or should he tell the truth? Being a compulsive liar he sometimes found it difficult to determine whether a white lie meant to make some feel better or comfortable was more appropriate than being honest. But he had made a promise to himself to be more truthful, even if he didn’t want to be. Even if that meant exposing a part of himself he wasn’t ready for others to see.
“I suppose the magnanimous thing is to say that I don’t think anyone should be out here alone. But in truth there aren’t that many people I care for here nor do I feel a responsibility to the general community of everyone.” Which was Loki’s roundabout way of saying that he liked Billy more than most people and that he worried about him. Because far be it for Loki to come out and say that directly. That would be awkward for him.
Maybe that would be awkward for Billy, too. Loki had a sense that they shared some similarities when it came to loneliness and isolation. Loki had also been a boy who spent much of his childhood on his own, defending himself. Which was rather sad considering the fact that he had a family and a brother.
In the end, it was probably just Loki who isolated himself, but that was so long ago he barely even knew anymore.
“I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. But I don’t trust the other versions of us. They’ve played one of their hands. That doesn’t mean they don’t have another.” Loki offered a small, but somewhat encouraging smile. “Besides, I watch your back while you gather your stuff, then you can watch my back.”
Except Loki had no plans to actually look for any of his belongings. That was the white lie.
Billy's attention shifted completely towards Loki now as he pivoted his body to face him. The weight of the admission wasn't lost on Billy. Maybe there would have been a time in his life when he'd have rebuked against the idea of anyone feeling responsible for him outside of himself but that era was long gone. He'd allowed Victor and Rosa to take some of the weight off his shoulders. And Derleth had forced him to take it all back on himself.
But it seemed Loki was willing to take some back. Even if it was a little.
He didn't need to come out and turn the statement back to the other man. Did he? He felt it was pretty clear who he cared about when it came to this place. Still, a soft smile crossed his features as an acceptance of the answer and the knowledge.
"They probably do," Billy agreed and this caused him to glance back down to the very physical destruction around them. He could see scraps of his own clothing just waiting at his feet. He didn't feel like it was important to grab any of it when he took into consideration those who wished to do them harm or those that had been so terribly maimed that evening. But the offer was extended and it felt like a kindness. So Billy nodded his head if for no other reason than Loki was being kind and so Billy could keep an eye on the area while Loki got his own belongings.
Still, he didn't move to begin pick them up again. Instead, he turned his light sword pieces over once more before letting them fall down to his feet. They were broken anyway. And then he was moving towards Loki and when he reached him, his arms wrapped around him. Partially as a sense of gratitude for being willing to be there with him, partially for trusting that he could manage and partially for caring about him at all. But also? To convey the unspoken sense from earlier.
Billy had very few people he cared about himself and Loki was one of them. "Thank you," he mumbled after a moment.
Loki was rarely surprised by people. He always thought he had them figured out from first glance. Was that hypocritical of him considering who he was? Yes, of course. The master of illusions should have been more open to the fact that others were capable of hiding their truths, as well. But sometimes Loki wasn’t quite as intuitive as he thought.
Billy surprised him with that hug. Loki’s body initially tensed in response. People didn’t usually touch him. He didn’t exactly exude warmth and friendliness. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person who looked like they were open to hugs. And if he hugged anyone on his own there was always a lingering worry that the embrace might end with a dagger in the back or the belly. Which was probably why he could count on one hand the number of people who had ever initiated a hug with him.
People didn’t hug Loki.
Not without a very good reason.
Not unless they meant it.
Not unless he meant something.
He relaxed and carefully brought his arms around Billy, returning the embrace in a way he’d never received from his own father. Not persistent or demanding or even very strong, but enough to let Billy know that he did care—because he did—and that he understood how difficult all of this was. Because it was difficult. Maybe not in the same way it was for a teenage boy, but Loki didn’t have it easy either. Although—and this was a good reminder—he did have the potential to make it easier for others. That was something he could do with his power instead of behaving in his normally foolish and erratic ways.
His attention diverted from the boy to glance down at the broken plastic sword. He didn’t know why it upset Billy, but that didn’t really matter. He gave Billy a soft pat on the back and then, for a very rare moment, spoke with real genuineness. “You’re welcome.”