Strangefrost Oneshots

part seventeen ~ in the neighbourhood

Loki's Point Of View

It had been four years since I last saw Stephen Strange. 

Four years.

I'd tried to move on. Really, I had. But you never move on from the love of your life. Not quite.

I was pacing my room in New Asgard, another place I hadn't been in a while. Thor had been elated to see me after my years abroad, and I'll admit that I had missed him very much. However, there was something else I had never stopped craving and longing for. It itched in my bones and tore my lips raw; stabbing at my heart as it knocked the wind straight out of me.

I missed Stephen more than I'd missed anything in my entire life. 

I gnawed on my thumb nail, my blood pulsating sickeningly through my veins. It was a horrendous idea; going to see Stephen. I ran my hand through the hair mussed on my head. It had grown long and messy in the absence of him. In the absence of someone who actually made me care what the hell I looked like. I shuffled to in front of my mirror and gave it a quick brush.

"Dear God, Loki," I groaned, dragging my hands over my face. 

I'm just gonna go, I thought, determined. I'm just gonna go. The worst he can say is that he hates me and never wants to see me ever again. Right?

I arrived at the bottom of Bleecker Street. To give myself a little more time, I hadn't appeared right on the doorstep of the Sanctum. I bit my lip as I watched the door. It was still and the street was quiet. The sky was a beautiful hue of blue and pink for the Sunday sunrise. I fiddled with the long sleeves of my jet black robes. The neat Italian fabric clung tightly to my arms and flared a little at the wrists. The seam ran up my arm to the high collar against my neck and down the tailcoat that hung low at my ankles. 

I was finding it hard to breathe. The air was crisp and fresh but the stagnant odour of the place I'd so hurriedly abandoned was choking me, gaining its revenge. Trees creaked in the breeze that was strong enough only to blow a few wavy hairs into my eyes, barring my vision with trickles of black. I swallowed thickly.

My boots clopped on the pavement and it sounded as though every one echoed through the avenue like a hollow melody of death. My heart was screeching at me in harbored beats, begging me not to do this. Pleading with me not to break it all over again. 

The anticipation and terror churning inside of me was a welcome change from the consistent pain I'd felt for the past years. I could feel the presence of the piece waiting to complete the puzzle that was me and my body ached for it to fill the cavity I had torn it from.

The Sanctum Sanctorum towered in front of me, horrifically taunting me to enter. And before I could change my mind, my fist rapped on the door. My vision began to sway, nausea slamming into my stomach as the nerves moved from my head downwards. I placed a hand against my abdomen. 

The doorknob squeaked and turned, and I sucked in a sharp inhale. I stared in awe at the man whom had dared open the door to the last person he would want to see.

I caught only a couple second glimpse at Stephen before the door shut abruptly in my face, with my lips slightly parted to speak. I frowned. I heard something thud inside, as though someone had fallen to the ground. It was followed by the muffled smash of broken glass.

After a few moments, it opened again. The door revealed him in his full might, and Stephen's face gave away nothing. It was a quality I had lost; being able to mask my emotions. I knew every single thing I was feeling at this moment was displayed in my glazed eyes, furrowed brows, and turned down lips.