Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

RADIOACTIVE

A FEW WEEKS LATER....

Rhiley rolled her eyes and pushed off the window frame, brushing past him with a muttered, "Drama queen."

Loki trailed her into the kitchen, the hem of her bathrobe swishing dramatically like it was personally offended by her tone. "If I'm to be accused, I prefer King of Drama, thank you."

"You're not even wearing pants."

"And yet I still have more poise than half your planet."

Rhiley opened a cabinet, grabbed a mug, and poured herself coffee, pointedly ignoring the smug deity in her periphery. "You know you can conjure your cup, right? Or are you just determined to mooch off everything I own?"

Loki leaned against the counter beside her, that infuriating twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, I could... but this one tastes better. Yours always does."

She froze mid-sip, narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of the mug. "Don't flirt with me while wearing my fuzzy socks."

He wiggled his toes. "They're very cozy."

"You're a menace."

"I've been called worse."

Rhiley muttered something creative under her breath and turned to the fridge — and promptly yelped as a glowing rune flared to life on the handle.

"Seriously? You warded the fridge?"

Loki didn't even blink. "We can't be too careful. Midgardian groceries are an elusive treasure."

"You're out of your mind."

"Yes, but I'm your problem now, apparently."

She groaned, thumping her forehead lightly against the fridge door. "What have I done to deserve this?"

"I have a list if you'd like it."

"You would."

He watched her a moment, and then, softer, "You really don't want me here, do you?"

Rhiley turned to look at him. Really look at him. There was a flicker behind his usual smirk, something uncertain, something vulnerable he didn't quite manage to hide.

"It's not that I don't want you here," she said quietly. "It's that I'm scared I do."

Loki blinked.

"You crash into my life, completely unannounced, like a damn meteor," she went on, voice rougher now. "And you're... everywhere. In my space, in my coffee, in my head. And I know this isn't forever. It can't be. And when you go—" She stopped herself, jaw clenched. "When you go, it's going to hurt."

He didn't move, didn't speak. Just watched her like the world was tilting under his feet again.

"I don't need more things to lose, Loki," she whispered. "I've lost enough.

A long silence.

Then, quietly, almost too gently, he said, "Then let me be something you don't."

The air between them shifted — not heavy this time, but charged, uncertain.

Rhiley looked away first, breath catching. "If you break my coffee machine, I will kill you."

He smiled, soft and sharp. "Duly noted."

And somewhere, beneath the banter, something fragile and real began to take root.

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Three days later, he was gone.

No dramatic exit. No glowing portals or stolen fireworks or thunderous declarations.

Just silence.

Rhiley had woken up to an unnervingly quiet house — no faint humming from the living room where Loki usually lurked, no snide commentary drifting from the kitchen. Just the distant crash of waves and the eerie stillness of an absence she hadn't expected to feel so sharply.

She found the note on the kitchen counter, scrawled in elegant, infuriatingly perfect handwriting:

Rhiley,

I'm sorry.

I wish I could've stayed longer. I wish I could say it was safe. But we both know it never was.

Thank you — for the quiet moments, the arguments, the coffee, the chance to be seen.

I will not forget it.

Yours in mischief,

L.

It wasn't even on proper stationery — just the back of one of her recipe cards. Her favorite one, she realized with a bitter scoff. Of course, he'd be sentimental in the most obnoxious way possible.

She read it three times, then folded it with shaking hands and pressed it flat against her chest, as if that might make her heart hurt less.

The bathrobe was still draped over the back of the couch.

The fuzzy socks were gone.

Of course they were.

She made coffee. Poured two mugs. Left his on the other side of the counter.

Stared at it until it went cold.

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