The Rise of Hel {Loki Laufeyson} Book Two

Chapter Forty-Five

A few months later...

I try to be as quiet as I can as I dig through my closet, stuffing clothes into the duffel bag. I took extra time in the bed this morning, cuddling into the fluffy duvet and sniffing the familiar scent of summer air - Thomas, the laundry guys favourite way to dry the sheets. He set up a clothes line on the roof that circles the perimeter, hanging all the sheets from it. I've woken up to the gorgeous smell countless times, never truly enjoying it until now - until it's time to leave.

Tony doesn't know about my decision, which is stupid, I know, but I need to leave. They're my family, but not truly. I can't keep mooching off of them and their beautiful smelling beds, walk in closets, and microwavable Cake-In-A-Mug's. It's time to move on.

Although, with the time I've taken to pack, I've also let myself think a little. How am I expecting them to react to this? To wake up and come in to check on me, only to find that I'm not here, but there's a small note on the duvet expressing my gratitude for all their generosity. It will not go down well, but I fear that I'm taking advantage of them and their evident wealth. I refuse to feel like I'm stealing from them anymore - I won't stand for it.

So, with one last look around, I zip up the duffel bag and close the door, stepping out. Slinging it over my shoulder, I walk down the hallway with my head angled downward - ashamed to look anywhere else - and run straight into Tony.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his eyes wide and trained on the duffel bag. I put it down, suspecting that he can see through the material by the way he's eyeing it.

"I'm starting over," I say, quoting Loki from a few months back. I haven't seen him since then which pisses me off, but I'm used to him just leaving. I can't say that I was expecting anything less, but I still had that sliver of hope that he'd have come back by now and tried to convince me to run away with him again, but alas, he's gone and I have yet to fully accept it. "I'm going to rent an apartment or something, go to school, stay away from anything remotely supernatural and put my... abilities on the shelf."

"Becca, you're eighteen. I can't let you do that." He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles rippling under his tight shirt. He's been working out a lot lately - mostly when he can't sleep, which is almost every night these days. I keep telling him to go see a doctor and get a prescription, maybe some therapy, but he refuses to let someone tell him what's wrong with his own body. He repeats the same thing every time I approach him: "If J.A.R.V.I.S can't tell me what's wrong, then how the hell is a human supposed to figure it out? Doctorate or not - they're all idiots."

"Tony..." I start, squirming as he acts like a parent. It's okay when Pepper does it, because she does it convincingly. But I know Tony, and I can't take him seriously when he's being serious. I keep mistaking it for a joke.

Though, this time is different. I can see the panic in his eyes, the way he stopped breathing when he realized what I was doing before he caught me. He's scared of losing me again.

"Becca, you have no family and no friends that you can live with. You're definitely not living with Peter because both May, Gwen and I would have heart attacks. And Addison is out of the question as well - she's messed up enough as it is, poor kid." He raises his eyebrows.

"Tony!" I complain.

"Pepper!" He squeaks loudly, whirling around.

"What?" I hear her call from another room.

"C'mere! She's trying to leave." He gives me a 'You're in trouble now,' look.

"What?" She emerges from the room, her summer Hello Kitty pajama set on and her red hair in a high ponytail. "Becca, you're eighteen! You can't live on your own! And you're definitely not living with Peter or Addison-"