Spooky Action at a Distance | Frostiron

Truth is now Acceptable

One year.

It didn't feel like a year, albeit he'd been distracted. He still remembered the day as if it was yesterday. The laughs. The smiles. The family. The chaos. The anarchy. The death.

It didn't get easier. Bruce told him that it should get easier with time, but it didn't. It was still just as bad as it was then. He wanted it all to be over.

There was a memorial being held on Asgard for Frigga. Loki couldn't go. Not after last time. Besides, what would he do with Peter? He couldn't risk taking him to Asgard. He didn't trust Odin enough. Thor had tried to get him to go, but Loki wouldn't change his mind. It was too dangerous.

The match hissed as it scrapped along the sandpaper, the light providing a slight glow to the room consumed by darkness. Loki held the match to the wick of the first candle, the blue flame complimenting the golden candle in such a familiar way that it was comforting. The flame started to flicker and dance, focusing on the left.

Loki closed his eyes in order to keep tears at bay, his hand shaking as it gripped the shortening match. He felt a cold air sweep over him, causing his chest to tighten. He opened his eyes to see the candle's flame slowing down.

He sniffled quietly as he lit the second candle, one deep red in colour. It took half a minute before the candle would light, and when it did the yellow flame flickered ad danced, though went out within seconds. He felt his heart in his throat as he tried again, it not taking so long though the yellow flame was small and still.

He put the match out and set it to the side, his hands shaking throughout the process. He rested his head in his hands, tears slipping through his eyes. He just wanted to see them again. He wanted to talk to them. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to get them back.

"I'm sorry," he found himself whispering.

He didn't get an answer. He wasn't expecting one. As he lifted his head, he saw that the flame of the golden candle was yellow, still and small, almost identical to the red candle flame. He wiped his eyes in order to get rid of the tears, though ignored the fresh batch of tears that threatened to fall.

Why couldn't they be alive? Why couldn't it have been him? He just wanted to make everything better. Everything fine. Would anything ever be fine again? Sure, he had a distraction from the pain, but the feelings never left. He still ached for them every minute of the day as his mind clouded with 'what ifs'.

What if they were there? What difference would it make? Peter would have a father and a grandmother. Peter would have more of a family. En had been a great help. He'd spent as much time as he could with Loki and Peter, and he helped out as much as he could, as did the rest of the Avengers. Loki appreciated it. He really did. But it wasn't the same. He just wanted to give Peter the chance of a normal life.

The sound of a cry brought him out of his thoughts. He wiped away the remainder of tears before he snuffed the candles out. He couldn't help but stare at the two candles for a few seconds before another cry brought him back to reality.

At least he was used to no sleep.

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"Have you got his bottle?"

"Yes, I, uh, I put it in the bag."

"Nappies?"

"In the bag."

"Dummy?"

"Bag."

"Blankets?"

"It's all in the bag."