Imagine Loki

Burn

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Day two of the 12 Days of Loki! I've been obsessed with Hamilton recently, so this is based off of the song Burn from that, which can be found in the media above.
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You sat on the floor of your apartment, an open box beside you. You looked at the letters inside of it before taking a deep breath. You knew that you had to do this. You took out the first letter that he had ever sent you, eyes scanning over the words as the memory flooded your senses.

"Hey, (y/n), there's a letter for you," (y/b/f/n) said, throwing the mail on the kitchen counter of your shared apartment.

"What? Who even sends letters anymore?" You asked, looking up from your laptop. 

"Some dude named Loki. He has really nice handwriting though," they said, handing you the letter. "Is this that dude that you met at the party with Natasha?"

"Yeah, that's him. How the hell did he find our address?" You asked, turning the letter over in your hand.

"No idea, but open it. Let's see what he says," they replied, hopping onto the seat beside you. You opened the letter carefully, not wanting to ruin the envelope. Your eyes scanned over the scrawling handwriting, melting with every word that you read. 

"This is so sweet," you gushed once you finished it. You looked over at your friend, who was still reading the letter, a somewhat concerned look on their face. "Isn't it sweet? I think he'd be just the nicest."

"I don't know, I'd just be careful with him. You know his past, he'd do what it takes to survive," (y/b/f/n) said, shaking their head slightly. You just laughed slightly, shaking your head a bit.

You looked through the next letters, looking for a shift in tone, words, anything that could tell you why it happened. You found nothing, nothing that you hadn't seen before. Instead of making your heart melt, every word felt like a brand new cut. How could he have written all these nice things, all these words that made you feel like he was yours and yours alone, and then do something like that after years? It made no sense to you, it never did.

You hadn't even heard about the rumor until he went and released a statement about it. You didn't even know where it came from, there was some people saying that it was from a Tumblr post, others saying it was from some small local tabloid. It seemed that you knew after everyone else did. You tried not to notice the pitying looks that you got, no matter how much they confused you. It wasn't until you passed by a newspaper stand on the way home that you saw it splashed across the front page of four different papers. Avenger's Loki Admits to Secret Affair. You bought the paper and ran back to your apartment, trying to hold it together until you were in the safety of your home. 

You didn't want to jump to conclusions, so you left the ring on your finger as you opened the paper to the story. You heart dropped with every word you read, every picture that was taken. Letters published from him and this woman. Details, but not too many, on how the affair was carried out and kept secret. You knew this sounded familiar, and realized just how familiar it was when the journalist pointed it out. 'It looks like history has repeated itself with this Hamilton-like situation. The question is, how will (y/n) respond? Or will she be the new Eliza?' 

That led you to where you are now, sitting on the floor reading the last letter he had sent you. The last line killed you, but awoke a fiery anger inside of your heart. Yours always, Loki. It made you sick, how easily he had lied to you. You called (y/b/f/n), asking when they would be home from work. You knew that you couldn't do this alone. "Are you back at our place? I'll be home soon. I read what happened, by the way. The idiot's like Icarus, he got all high and mighty just to fly too close to the sun and ruin himself," they told you before saying goodbye. 

You took off your ring, throwing it somewhere on the counter as your anger began to build even further. You turned on (favorite angry song), feeling every lyric deep inside of your core, every fast beat staying with you as you gathered everything that reminded you of him. Every photograph, every letter, every note he had left for you. (Y/b/f/n) got back just as you had completed your little pile. "We're doing this the right way. Grab that stuff and let's go find an empty trashcan," they said, already knowing what you were planning. 

"I just have one thing left that I need to do, then we can go burn this stuff." You went to grab what you needed, scribbling an address down as you sealed the final letter. (Y/b/f/n) waited patiently, the box in their hands as they watched you. You walked past them, already knowing that there was an empty trashcan in the alley behind the building since you had passed it on your way home. You took the box from your friend's hands, a look of set determination on your face as you dropped the box in, feeling satisfied with the loud noise it made. "Matches?" you asked them, still looking down at the items as you held out your hand. You felt the box being pressed into your palm.

"Goodbye to the Icarus," (y/b/f/n) whispered as you stepped back, lighting a match and throwing it into the trashcan. The flames licked across the memories, erasing them from existence, turning them into ash. 

"I need to get out of New York, at least for a while," you spoke, looking at your friend.

"Yeah, of course. Need me to take you someplace? My brother has this cabin a bit north from the city that's not being used," (y/b/f/n) offered immediately.

"Yeah, the country sounds nice. I just need to drop this letter in the mail first," you replied. 

"I'll go start packing your stuff then, tell me whenever you're ready to leave," (y/b/f/n) said, turning back towards the building. You made your way to a mailbox not far from the alleyway, dropping the final letter to Loki inside without looking back. You didn't hear the sound of it dropping, not a final thud from the wedding ring hitting the bottom of the box. And you were okay with that.

Loki,

I've heard by now, which is probably what you were expecting. I'm leaving. I'm not going to talk to the press, or the tabloids, or even the blogs. They don't deserve to know how I reacted. They don't deserve to know what I said. Here's the ring you gave me, it obviously meant nothing to you. One last thing, Loki. I burnt every letter you wrote me, every memory, anything that might've redeemed you. You forfeited all rights to my heart. I hope you burn.

- (Y/n)