Mobius wasn’t sure how long he was standing on the street. The sun was getting lower now, glazing the home in a nostalgic summer glow that tugged on Mobius’s heartstrings. Mobius realizes he didn’t think this through properly.
He’s an outsider here. He doesn’t belong here.
What was he doing? Mobius looks down at his shoes, staring at the pavement. The man is used to the cold, sterile concrete of the TVA beneath his feet. Not the warm pavement of the sidewalk washed in orange. Nothing felt right. This is all unfamiliar.
The warmth of the sun against his skin feels foreign, almost stinging. He’s used to the artificial glow of the neon lights of the TVA. The stale, faint orange glow of the lights is what gave him comfort.
He doesn’t know what to do anymore, what to think. He doesn’t know what he wants.
Just let time pass.
His usual steady hands start to tremble, his breath constricts as his knees start to weaken.
Loki.
His entire job as an analyst was to study Loki variants. He studied every detail, every event, every intention of the god. He understood him like the back of his hand. This Loki was supposed to be another case, a mission.
Mobius didn’t mean to fall for one.
Mobius was supposed to know the god’s nature down to a molecular level.
But he never expected him to do this.
Mobius was a selfish man. Deep down, he never wanted Loki to find out what his “glorious purpose” was. He didn’t want the god to leave him behind.
He didn’t want to be alone.
The only reason why he admitted to Loki that he didn’t want to find out who he was before the TVA is because of him. Loki was his sole purpose, the only reason nothing else mattered. Loki was the only thing that made sense.
His knees give out as he falters to the ground, struggling to breathe. He lands harshly on his knees, landing on the hard pavement of the sidewalk. His vision blurs from unshed tears.
He lets the hot tears run, in anger, in rage at the unfairness of it all. All he sees is red for a moment as his fists tighten and his jaw clenches. How could he leave him like this?
Not even a goodbye handshake, a hug, a kiss. The god had to play hero and make the ultimate sacrifice to save the multiverse.
His eyes tighten as he tries to shake out the memory of the last time they made eye contact in the temporal loom chamber.
He’s never seen the god look so sure about something in his life. It’s like something finally clicked in his mind, like he had the answer to everything. Oh, how much Mobius wished he could talk some sense into them.
“I know what kind of god I need to be, for you.”
Mobius feels nauseous.
A sob erupts from inside and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was so much easier to breathe when Loki was around. He wished Sylvie hung around for a bit longer, but he didn’t want to feel like a burden. He would’ve enjoyed the company.
She’s never seen her smile so much before. Mobius was happy for her, she can finally have the freedom, the choices, and life she’s always wanted. He’s happy for everyone.
But now what?
Stories never talk about what’s after the happy ending. Mobius figures this is it.
“Loki? Can you hear me?” Mobius calls out in a broken voice. Nothing answers but the rustle of the leaves and distant playful shouts from children playing in the neighborhood.
“Loki, give me a sign that you can see me. I know you can,” Mobius says, barely a whisper. Mobius listens as he hears a dog barking and more playing. Mobius wraps his arms tightly around himself as another painful sob rips through his chest.
“Loki, p-please,” he pleads between pitiful breaths.
How Mobius wishes to hear the god’s snickers or laughs, snide comments, or comforting touches. He misses the comfort of his magic around him, it had a unique herbal aroma to it that smelled like the god, like home.
He would give anything to feel his embrace again, to feel his palm and their fingers intertwined so perfectly like puzzle pieces.
Mobius doesn’t know how much time passed. It’s dark now, the street lights flicker above him as the moon glows.
Silent tears fall on his face as he looks up at the home. He sees the ideal version of himself with his family in the kitchen, making dinner through the illuminated window.
Just like the TVA, he witnesses his life through a screen, a case file, a picture. An outsider. All Mobius feels is grief and hollowness that will never cease.
He watches everything from afar, while the boys do homework, brushing their teeth, while their dad packs their lunches for school tomorrow. When he tucks them in for bed, their smiles, and laughter. He watches as he kisses them goodnight, turning off their light, lingering for a moment and smiling to himself proudly as he shuts their door.
Mobius shivers even though it’s a humid, sticky summer night. The crickets start to chirp as the trees rustle lightly from the warm breeze.
Mobius picks himself up, dusting his clothes off. He looks up at the starry sky, making out constellations that he recognizes from the TVA library.
He lets out a deep breath, trying to imagine where his Loki is right now. He tries to picture him, not alone on a throne. He tries to not picture him at the end of time. Instead, he pictures him watching Mobius throughout his life, past, present, and future fondly from afar. Just letting time pass.
Mobius knows one day he’ll understand Loki’s choice. He’ll understand the burden he chose to carry. He’ll accept the unfairness of the life he was stolen from and the life he was forced into. He knows he’ll find peace again.
Mobius sighs and pulls out his tempad.
He summons a random time door, going to whenever or wherever. Maybe one day, he’ll return to the TVA.
But now, he cannot waste Loki’s sacrifice. He needs to rewrite his story. For himself. For Loki.
Mobius walks through the door, disappearing into the night.