Loki's fall (sequel to loss and Loki)

Never Let The Heartbeat Fall

"I'm back." I called out into the crushingly echoey space, feeling the familiar punishing pain sink to my gut when I noticed the absence of her voice, calling back to me, more than I wanted to.

I placed the shopping bags on the counter and rummaged around in the cupboards to find a frying pan, clattering and cursing through the sea of metal, half of which I didn't even know I owned.

I set the stove up and burning bright as I slammed down the pan and cracked a couple eggs into it, watching them cloud and colour almost immediately. Bashing the fluid about a little, I briefly wondered if this was the first time I'd made an omelet in my life. It wasn't much, but it was something of normality and I felt just a little swell of pride watching it congeal as I topped it with cheese and spinach and it began to form something that resembled the food just a little.

"I made something edible." I chanted to myself., smiling as I flipped it over to reveal a beautifully golden underneath. There was an odd wave of pleasure that seemed to curl up in me as I did so and I couldn't help but smile at the fact i'd been able to do something, just one mundane thing right.

But my attention was quickly stolen away as I heard my name being called from another room, a voice I was all too familiar with but still sent thrills down my spine every time I heard it. Though this time it was quickly followed with a sinking feeling in my stomach when I remembered our last conversation. I just flipped my omelet onto a plate as the footsteps echoed through the house, and bit my cheek roughly, hoping he'd ignore my presence entirely.

It would hurt like a bitch, but it would save me hurting him again, knowing now just how I got when I was most vulnerable. Bitchy and disagreeable mostly, a shadowy projection of the chronic self hatred I felt burning up in my throat pushed onto the people I cared about most.

I swallowed hard and tried not to think about the way he'd looked at me after the abrupt end to our last encounter. When I'd yelled something I shouldn't have said, a flurry of anger I didn't even hold for him, forged in weapons I only wanted to bury in myself and turn away from his adoring eyes.

"Ora? You're here." He breathed out, rounding the corner into the kitchen in a huff that sounded more like a sigh of relief, his anxious frown relaxing when he took in my state.

"I came back from Asgard an hour ago, and I didn't know where you'd gone." He cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish as he stepped toward me with an expression he quickly shook off into his natural apathetic gaze. But I'd seen the look in his eyes enough for the past month to know that wary, concerned flicker he tried so hard to conceal. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't spy it in his gaze every time we locked eyes and I was growing tired of it.

"Were you with her again?" He queried softly, his hands pulling up to frame my face as he brushed back the hair I had covering my eye. I could've been wildly wrong but I swear I saw the slightest of soft smiles curving the edges of his lips as he ran a finger over the ridged white streak down my face.

"Yeah, I had to replace the dumb flowers." I shrugged, turning away from him to retrieve my omelet as I pulled myself up on the counter to eat. He fixed me with a look and a heavy sigh passed his lips as he watched me take a bite, clearly trying to figure out how to approach the situation. I tried my best to ignore him as I ate, adding a little salt cause I was feeling boujee and simply munching away as he watched, waiting for me to acknowledge the look on his face.

And that was something I wasn't too keen on doing right now.

I hopped off and shuffled over to the sink to start filling it with water once I'd finished, hearing his deep sigh as he lowered his crossed arms and slowly rounded the counter to stand beside me, a little ways away but close enough to plague my peripheral vision. And it was that stare, the sad defiance that leaked behind his eyes with a look I knew he had painted on his face. I couldn't bare to look at it now and I despised him for even treating me like this. This broken shell of a woman. I'd brought down entire gangs and corporations, lost loved ones and killed countless people. And here he stood, gazing at me like I were a weeping wren with a fractured wing, injured and vulnerable, sitting numb in his cupped hands.