Sylki One-Shots and Poetries (English)

Apart

Sylvie doesn't hesitate to do like last time, when she approached slowly, breaking Loki's personal space and allowing herself to be close enough to test his limits. Despite wanting her as close as she was, his memory couldn't help but shatter as the fear that she would push him away again filled his entire mind. Yet he remained petrified, just waiting for the incorrigible fact of their last - and first - kiss to become a saga of pain again. Loki couldn't deny that he was absurdly hurt by that attitude, even if he couldn't help but look for her, fight for her. He wants every broken part of Sylvie to heal so that she would be okay, but to do that, he must also feel okay.
"You're still hurt by me." She says, not in the tone of someone asking, but in a tone that states. "I'm not going to apologize to you for acting the way I needed to."
"I'm not asking for this, Sylvie." He examines the situation they are in, there is a tense air between them, but he then looks down at her mouth. "Despite where it led us, I'm still able to judge the situation for what it is."
"I know you do." She adds expectantly. She has her concentration locked on him now, but she isn't determined enough to play with him one more time and she feels the urgency to verbalize this. "I don't want to make this a game between us."
"So please tell me what you intend to turn this into, because we are clearly turning this into something."
She sighs so deeply, and the sadness they both show is clear, without any intention - or possibility - of hiding it.
"Maybe we should stop here then."
"Why?"
"Because you seem too stupid to get out of this alone."
"Are you going to push me away again, you know, like you did at the Citadel?" He teases only to see a bit of pain and anguish flash through those blue eyes of hers. Not because he's cruel, but just because he needs to assure that she's truly sorry for making him suffer and cry for her previously.
She swallows hard, noticing his face. There are no tears this time, or cold accusations, but there is still pain, lots of it.
"Just stop it, Loki." She pleaded and he automatically walked forward, his first step towards her.
She was broken just as much as he was, and he wouldn't mind hiding his pain if it was necessary to heal hers. He would like to touch her and hug her and be able to say that, beyond wanting her to be well, he would make her feel that way, because he would never fail to assure her to trust his intentions.
If that was love, Loki didn't know, because the word that danced on the tip of his tongue still didn't have a concise definition for what he felt. So, in that situation, it became easier - and appropriate - that he communicated with her as usual: exchanging gentle touches.
"I will not stop." He took over, running his hand through her blonde hair, his eyes so intense they could even see through her broken soul. "Because I would never walk away from you even if you threw me through countless portals of time. Exceptionally after kiss me." He paused very briefly. "I would still be - and I am - foolishly here for you. So I hope you tell the truth, Sylvie, because this is the chance I'm going to give you to tell me that you want me gone, because all I need right now is to express how desperately I want and need to kiss you."
He waited for a long minute that felt like an eternity, and for a moment, he thought she would make the mistake of keeping him out of her own protective bubble, however, when she didn't utter a word about it, he just took that silence as a concession that she wanted him to stay, so he smirked, not in a triumphant way, but pleased that, even in Sylvie's messy way, she still had hope that something between them could work out.
Then, he gently ran his hand over her waist, pulling her closer to him, feeling the soft fabric of her clothes run through his fingers. She's very close now, more than before, and he just touched his nose to hers, feeling their breath hover in the air.
Something could have come out of his mouth at that moment, a stupid or rushed statement, but luckily he was content to smile at her, his eyes closed and he said something softer.
"I can be happy by learning to live with it. With you." He spoke, and she smiled ever so slightly, and from the sniffle, she had a teardrop falling down her cheek. He tried to dry it, and added. "I hope you do too."
"I definitely do, you idiot!" The tense air became a cold breeze, and the pain became subtle and growing hope. Then he kissed her, lovingly, until, for that small moment in spacetime, they were two fragmented parts finding shelter in a greater purpose, which was clearly in each other.