Chapter 1
“—Two galaxies collided,” Loki whispered aloud, “neither swallowed the other but swept within each missing space.” He stroked a finger over the dog-eared fold marking the page.
Maybe Mama read astronomy books to feel connected to the wider world, or maybe she read them to keep up with guests at dinner parties? Loki didn’t know.
He would never know now.
A sharp ache shot through his heart, and he wrenched his tatty book closer so he could hide his face beneath its wrinkled pages. He doubted anyone in the diner could hear his thoughts, but he wouldn’t put it past them. How many spooky novels came out of the state’s Pacific Northwest?
Hundreds? Who could say? Some skill in mind reading wouldn’t be unheard of in this area, not after the last romance novel set in the region.
A porcelain coffee mug landed on Loki’s table and clattered against a plate dripping with bacon grease. The two rattled together until the waiter caught the mug, seconds before it would’ve spilled. Loki couldn’t decide if he’d have preferred the mug spilled, if it had, the waiter might have given him a free meal. Although, Loki wouldn’t have been pleased to have his sweater ruined.
“Sorry about the delay,” the waiter said with a glance toward the booth behind Loki’s. He wiped his hands with a dirty rag looped into his belt. “Our cook’s swamped.”
Loki nodded and flashed a flat smile as he set his book aside. “I’m in no hurry.”
The waiter thanked him distractedly before spinning on his heel and disappearing through a stained swinging door.
Loki hadn’t been in a hurry since he’d bought a one-way plane ticket to Seattle in a mad panic. He hadn’t known how quickly Odin would or could find him, or if he would even go looking for him.
Odin might have just written Loki off. It’d been nearly three weeks now and the longer Loki remained hidden, the more likely it seemed he had.
However, Mama—
He snatched a rolled set of silverware as a sharp ache shot through his heart once more. Thinking of Mama, hurt. How could someone know such an important secret for so many years and constantly lie to their child?
Easily, apparently, when the child belonged to a couple in Iceland whose names Loki heard twice in his life now.
Perhaps no one wanted him—
He hunched over his plate and wrinkled his nose as the oily smell of eggs rose up to meet him. A fatty strip of undercooked bacon slipped free and fell into the egg, splitting the thin skin and causing the yolk to pool onto the plate.
Loki inhaled slowly.
Bacon must be difficult to cook. Perhaps no one knew how to fry it perfectly, no matter who did the cooking.
Loki had attempted once before, but the grease splattered and singed his wrist, leaving him too frustrated to try again.
He pulled a fork loose from the napkin and made sure to keep his elbows free of the tabletop. Frayed gold threads belonging to him now clung to its sticky laminate, somehow silently boasting about how his sweater would never be the same.
Without any manners, he shoveled the egg into his mouth, almost gagging at his own speed.
His eyes slid upwards as he chewed and landed on his scratched and pockmarked booth. Golden evening sunlight bled across the diner, blinding folks as it burned.
Forks and knives clinked together as diners surrounding Loki’s table tucked in and chattered about their days.
Loki wondered how sad he looked.
Loneliness had dogged his footsteps for some time, but never to the extreme he endured now.
He couldn’t bear sitting alone, but he couldn’t stand being around people for any longer than it took to eat. He could take his order to go, if he felt truly monstrous, and make his way back to the motel he’d found several days ago. Telenovelas played at all hours on the tv, and while Loki didn’t speak enough Spanish to follow the plot well, watching something kept his mind from spinning. How much could one person watch before their eyes rolled out of the head though?
The latest one he’d grown attached to felt painfully realistic. It featured sisters who’d been separated at birth, and it gave Loki immense comfort to finally watch someone else’s family struggle through seemingly illogical events.
A child shrieked as the bell hanging above the entrance chimed, and an older man and his wife walked in.
Loki’s eyes slipped shut and he pressed his knuckles into his ears as the child shrieked again. He hadn’t come looking for peace and quiet when he’d fled Trondheim, but he had hoped he’d find something reflecting it, or at least a tepid welcome. Instead, he’d met his motel room neighbor, who subsequently owned the place, his daughter, who’s constant coming and going woke Loki at all hours, and an unreasonable amount of families with small children, who never stopped screaming.
He hadn’t shrieked nearly so much at that age, had he? Although if anyone would know, it would be Mama—
“Loki.”
Loki jerked, dropping his fork onto the greasy plate as his eyes swam over a worn pair of jeans with a hole in one of the knees and what looked like Odin’s old, brown leather jacket fitted across Thor’s broad shoulders.
He needed to leave.
He needed to leave now.
His knees knocked against the underside of the table as he moved to stand, rattling the plate and mug once more before one of Thor’s hands shot out and held them still.
A deep-seated tremor shook as it rolled up his back. He didn’t know yet if he wanted to be found! He’d considered the possibility over the last few weeks, but never came to a conclusion, because he both did and did not. He’d written more than one list stating why he felt how he did—and what did that say about his mental state? He’d found reasons for why he never wanted to be found again, and reasons for why he wanted to be found before he’d ever left. No matter what he wrote, he always wanted Mama—
“I just want to talk!” Thor said in a strangled voice. “Please don’t cry, I’m not—”
“I’m not!” Loki hissed.
“It’s not—it just looked like you might start,” Thor said as concern creased along his eyebrows, “and that’s not the worst thing, really, but I sort of imagined us meeting under better—”
“Stop talking!”
Thor’s mouth snapped shut with a click. He stood awkwardly beside Loki’s table, shuffling his feet before gesturing to the seat opposite Loki and asking, “may I sit?”
“You may not!” Loki said through gritted teeth. Anger bristled in his belly, fighting alongside pain, bitterness, and misery. A small, frustratingly desperate side of his mind wanted to ask if Thor had come for Loki, or if he’d come because Odin asked him to. He didn’t know if he could handle Thor coming because Odin asked him to.
“Would you really rather I stand?” Thor asked with a glance over his shoulder.
Several diners had begun to look over and whisper to one another as they shared curious looks.
Loki’s head fell in his hands.
“Or,” Thor started, the toe of his boot tapping over the floor. “Or we could take a walk? When I saw you, I didn’t think you’d be, well,” he paused and made a soft sound, “well, eating I suppose. I didn’t intend to keep you from your dinner.”
“Tell me Thor,” Loki began as a burning sensation bubbled up his throat. “Why do you suppose these restaurants are called ‘diners’?”
Thor fell silent for a moment before asking, “because the people are here to dine?”
“Ahh,” Loki said with a flat, painful sound. “To dine. How then, could you have intended to keep me from my dinner, when the function of this place is to dine?”
“Loki—”
“You should’ve stopped me at the laundromat instead.”
“There’s a laundromat in this town?”
“No,” Loki said. “That’s my point.”
Thor sighed. “I want to talk.”
Loki’s head grew heavier in his hands. In spite of the weight however, he refused to sit up until he had a plan in place. He could only see two options for why Thor stood beside him. Thor clearly still loved Odin, or he’d have thrown away that jacket. Loki felt certain that the last time he’d seen it, he’d torn a hole through the right arm with a pocketknife. As he still wore the jacket, then either Odin sent him, or, possibly, the jacket meant nothing, and Thor came of his own volition. Loki couldn’t bear the thought of asking why Thor arrived though, because he couldn’t handle hearing him speak about Loki like he was a chore, or worse, a job.
If Thor only came because Odin paid him—
His eyes pinched shut as an uncomfortable prickling sensation crept along his lashes.
He needed to be pragmatic. Thor had appeared as shocked as Loki when the news of the adoption broke. He tried speaking with Loki the very same evening, but Loki hadn’t listened. He’d heard one second of Thor trying to explain how Odin’s behavior, while wrong, didn’t change anything, but Thor couldn’t be more wrong.
It changed everything.
Loki always knew Odin preferred Thor, and he could’ve lived with that, truly, but hearing that Loki didn’t belong to Mama—
His nails pressed against his forehead, scratching at his skin until large, warm fingers gently pulled them free.
“Please talk with me,” Thor whispered as the cushion to Loki’s left sank. “I miss you. I really will understand if you don’t want to talk, I’ll be quiet, I promise,” his voice grew weaker. “But if you don’t want to talk, at least let me sit with you, please.”
Loki curled further in on himself, as bitterness and a desperate need for comfort warred in his stomach.
He suddenly wished he’d taken his meal to go. He didn’t want all of these people staring at him, and he certainly didn’t want them staring at Thor, though he didn’t want to investigate why he felt that way. Anyone watching them probably saw Loki as mad, or needy and attention seeking. They ought to tell Thor to leave him alone. If Loki watched the two of them from afar, he would think of himself as dramatic and ridiculous, and a someone who needed to be reminded of their own mediocrity.
“Can I have a piece of your bacon?” Thor asked in his ear.
Loki sniffled and tried to dry his eyes without drawing Thor’s attention, but he somehow doubted he succeeded when he heard a soft sound come from Thor.
“You can order your own.”
“Ok, what’s your waiter wearing?”
“A uniform,” Loki said dully before stealing a look from behind his fingers.
Thor now took up the bulk of their seat, but he’d left a narrow strip of empty space between their thighs, which seemed at once both silent, yet deafening as it enunciated the new distance between the two of them. Loki never asked Thor to insert himself into his space before, but he couldn’t ask now because he couldn’t stand the thought of being turned down.
Perhaps Thor left the space as a sign for Loki, so he knew not to ask?
Thor huffed a small laugh and leaned his elbows onto the sticky laminate as he peered around the diner. Loki hoped he’d lose a bit of the fabric there just as he had.
“Is yours the one with the popped collar?” Thor asked.
“I don’t—” Loki started, trying to remember his waiter’s name before realizing he couldn’t recall his face. “He was distracted.”
“It’s a busy place, that makes sense,” Thor nodded. “Do you normally come here at this hour?”
Two waiters rushed from behind the bar and around tables and booths with platters stacked with plates and glasses fit to burst. They squeezed past the hunched shoulders of folks crammed into too small chairs and children flopped over their seats like dead fish, never pausing to breathe or take a drink of water. Loki couldn’t tell which of the two helped him, as both looked distracted and busy, and he felt a renewed sense of shame for it.
‘Pay attention and be kind to the wait staff’ had been one of Mama’s—
“It’s nice,” Thor smiled. “Lively.”
Loki inhaled shakily.
He didn’t agree. ‘Lively’, he supposed made sense, but ‘nice’ brought to mind quiet balconies, or the small cafe near their house back home. Loki’s old home. He no longer lived there, even if most everything he owned had been left in his bedroom.
Thor flagged down a waiter and leant forward, covering Loki from sight as he ordered. His shoulders fell once the waiter left and he sat back, glancing over the bright diner without a word. No smiles crept over his lips, but neither did any frowns, or the bitter twist of displeasure. He looked content, oddly.
Loki wanted to reach across the gap between them.
He didn’t want to have the conversation they’d need to have before he did that though. He wanted to go back in time, to when the two of them hunted trolls in their backyard or played as warriors and princesses in castles. Even Thor’s dull friends could be fun once in a while, and while Loki didn’t want to miss them, somewhere in his heart he did. He might even consider inviting them over to play again, despite all the teasing he’d suffer through if he did. Sif always enjoyed leading their small group, and Fandral used to pretend he could charm anyone they ran into on their pretend adventures.
Thor used to ask Loki to dress up as a princess, and Loki delighted in it. They’d found strips of scratchy tulle in the craft closet and braided them into Loki’s hair or around his top and invented names and backstories, all the while ensuring Thor found an identical strip of fabric so he could match. Loki adored being rescued, at least until he found it much more fun to run around the backyard with the group.
He suddenly doubted he could invite them anywhere, as he’d always been the one chasing after them until he’d grown older.
He’d only had an invitation as Thor’s little—
It didn’t matter much now.
“Is that—”
Loki’s head swung up, having fallen to look at his lap at some point, though he couldn’t remember when.
Thor’s eyes were painfully clear, flashing more emotions than he could name.
“Your, uhm, your book,” Thor said, as he brought his fist to his mouth and coughed. “You’re reading about stars?”
Loki twisted to look at the worn copy of the book before turning back to Thor. “Galaxies,” he said, somewhat awkwardly.
Thor nodded.
“Some are cannibals.”
“They eat each other?!” Thor asked as his face paled. “What happens to the eaten stars?!”
Loki felt a small smile pull along his lips at Thor’s concern. “They’re swallowed by the larger of the two systems,” he said, thumbing through the pages. “The larger system takes in the small and forces it to conform,” he found a faded, black and white photo and held the book up for Thor to see.
Thor chewed on a strip of bacon as he searched over the photo. Loki couldn’t remember having seen his plate arrive or seen when Thor had a chance to eat from it. Regardless, two plates now sat before them, with Thor’s near empty.
“Is this how black holes are made then?” Thor asked, dabbing his greasy fingers over a paper napkin and flipping the page.
“I don’t know, that’s the next chapter.”
“But you’ve read this more than once,” Thor said. His eyes darted between Loki and the book before asking, “Right?
“I haven’t,” Loki shook his head ‘no’. He’d always preferred reading about plant life, and psychology. He planned to study one or the other when he began university, but after what happened recently, he hadn’t wanted to think about either topic. Frustrating memories erupted when he thought of the garden of plants he’d left behind, or the mismatched collection of books on his shelves.
“Oh,” Thor said before turning quickly back to his plate. “My mistake.”
Loki blinked at Thor for a moment before dropping his head once more to his lap. The smile he’d felt earlier curdled on his lips as the urge to disappear flooded him.
Thor mistook him for Mama.
His heart stilled in his chest, thumping a funeral march in his ears as a sickening sense of despair crept through his bones. He could escape to the states, and put distance between himself and the family he didn’t belong to and the culture he had no true connection with, but he couldn’t kill what made Loki, Loki.
His every bone felt at once too heavy to lift, and too sore to move.
Would Thor be angry if Loki left for the restroom and slipped out the window? Would Loki be able to get himself to the restroom?
“Loki?”
Mama helped make Loki, Loki. She taught him about nature, and how to keep a garden. She showed him how to speak with people and pry their thoughts open, so as to better understand them. She shared with Loki where to look when he didn’t understand something, and how to ask for help when he lacked the grace to do so with manners.
Loki couldn’t take her with him. He had no right to take her with him.
He didn’t want to take her with him.
He didn’t want to have anything to do with people who lied to him, did he? If he didn’t—and he didn’t, ‘if’ meant nothing here—then he shouldn’t keep anything that didn’t belong to him.
He should give Thor the book, even if it’d brought him immeasurable comfort during the last few weeks.
He sank deeper into the cushion, wondering if the diner had begun to fade away or if he’d fallen into nothing.
“Loki, are you al—Loki!”
Something rough scrubbed over Loki’s face and shook him from his sickly silent free fall.
Thor’s petrified blue eyes appeared alongside a damp paper napkin clutched between his hands. The bright evening light had faded, painting dim pinks and purples across Thor’s face.
The diner had grown quieter as well, strangely, though Loki couldn’t remember watching anyone leave, or hearing the chiming bell above the door.
“Where are you staying?” Thor whispered, catching Loki’s eyes and sitting back.
“A motel,” Loki answered voicelessly.
“Can I bring you there?”
Loki blinked and tried to think of the route from the diner to the motel, and if he could reliably help Thor to find it, but his head felt as if it’d been stuffed with cotton.
“Do you remember what it’s called?”
“No,” Loki shook his head. “But it’s run by a man who used to play football in Tennessee.”
Thor stared at Loki.
“He’s very proud,” Loki said before sniffling as the memory of sterile smelling glass cleaner tickled his nose. When he first arrived in this small town, it’d been nearing midnight and he’d worried he’d be the only one awake. However, when he’d opened the front door, the owner had been polishing the glass framing his jersey.
“Right,” Thor said with a slow, concerned nod. “I’m going to ask the waiter if any of that sounds familiar.” He stood and disappeared from Loki’s side.
Loki nodded as well and turned to stare forward. He wondered idly if the diner naturally grew colder when the bulk of diners left, or if Loki only felt colder because the sun no longer warmed his small booth.
What would he do with his car rental? Should he leave it here?
Should he even go with Thor? Why would Thor bother to take him back to the motel? What motive could he have from Odin to do that? Did he want to see how poorly Loki now lived?
Loki ought to leave now. He could sit in his car, or drive to the beach, or a park.
The foggy feeling clouding his head would eventually pass and he’d remember how to get back to his room. It couldn’t stay this way forever, in fact, Loki felt certain he’d experienced this fogginess once or twice quite recently, and his mental faculties always returned.
He turned to scoot out of his seat, but his hand landed on the worn astronomy book.
A bitter, cold voice in the back of his mind reminded him that if he wanted to start over, to shed the skin of someone who belonged to liars, then he needed to start somewhere, and what time could be better than now?
Thor could keep the book.
His fingers swept over a frail, discolored crease running along the cover. The letter ‘A’ in the title had long since faded, and two of the corners had been worn away by time.
Loki didn’t want it.
Mama might’ve read portions to Loki and Thor when they’d been younger, but he couldn’t remember when it had happened, if it had happened.
He didn’t—he didn’t want the book.
“I’ll get your book,” Thor said, dropping something warm, but far heavier than Loki expected over his shoulders. “The cook said your car can stay overnight. He doesn’t mind,” he added, turning away from Loki as he waved a hand. “He’s kind. I’m glad you come here.”
A loose hand slipped over the heavy fabric at Loki’s elbow and guided him from the booth, half carrying him when Loki stumbled.
Loki wanted to argue. He wanted to say he needed to use the restroom, and then try to crawl out the window where he could hide in a bush, or creep around the building and sneak into his own car before Thor even realized he’d left, but he couldn’t seem to keep track of his own feet.
Had Thor grabbed the book?
He turned to look for it, but they’d already made their way to the parking lot, where the shady bushes crowding the entrance had gone blue as dusk set in, but glowed green when fireflies danced past them.
“Up,” Thor said as his hands snuck around Loki’s waist and he hoisted him into the squeaky front seat of a truck.
The cool window bled like ice against the side of his forehead, but Loki found it easy to ignore when he had his own personal furnace around his shoulders.
“You gave a good description, by the way,” Thor said as he leapt into the driver’s seat. “The waiter knew the motel owner right off the bat. It turns out he’s a bit infamous,” he added, laying the book in Loki’s lap. “Or famous, depending on who you ask apparently.”
Loki’s fingers trailed over the cover of the book once more, stroking over creases and previously shiny letters. He couldn’t tell if he hated it, or if he never wanted to let go of it again. He considered leaving it in Thor’s truck for a brief moment, but it felt wrong to let go of it without any ceremony.
He didn’t know if the book deserved a ceremony though, or if he thought he deserved one.
If he deserved one at all.
They silently rolled down a winding hill and past tall, thick pine trees as Thor searched over the street signs.
Loki wondered again whether or not he should’ve disappeared in the diner. Thor might’ve found him quickly, given how confused Loki felt, however, the possibility that he wouldn’t find him also crossed his mind, though he discounted it after realizing that Thor found him halfway across the world at a diner. He wouldn’t have lost Loki by letting him dawdle in the restroom.
“They also gave me a free leftover sandwich,” Thor said as they rolled over a bumpy bridge. “In case you were still hungry.”
Loki blinked.
He hoped Thor hadn’t explained his life story to a stranger. If he had, Loki might as well throw himself from the truck and find a new hovel to hide in. He didn’t need odd people in foreign towns knowing—
“They were worried when you didn’t eat much,” Thor said.
He supposed that made sense.
Although the idea of eating someone else’s sandwich left a cold feeling in Loki’s belly. He didn’t mind where it’d come from, or who’d made it, but the idea of eating something gifted to him out of kindness when he had enough money to pay for it the right way around didn’t feel good.
“I can pay for it,” Loki said in a croaking voice. “I didn’t pay for my meal—did you? I’ll repay you.”
“Ok.” Thor tossed a quick look at him. “I think they just wanted to help. They said you tipped them well the last few days and wanted to help you feel welcome.”
The urge to scoff bubbled up Loki’s throat.
They’d probably given Thor the sandwich because it had been Thor asking for one. If Loki asked, it’d have been a different story. Loki hadn’t shared any conversation with either of the waiters in the last few days, nor had he spoken with the cook, so he didn’t know how or why anyone there would feel inclined to give away a handout.
“This must be it.”
A neon purple light hummed high above Loki’s head, sending static crackling through the air.
“Look familiar?” Thor asked.
Loki bent forward and glanced over shadowed concrete stairs and rusted metal railings. A soft light flickered before several bedroom doors, brightening chipped and cracked paint. When he’d first arrived, it’d been raining too hard for him to see much beyond the neon sign, but now he wished he’d spent more time exploring the place before he’d rushed through the front door.
He felt shy having Thor see it now.
His safe place no longer looked or felt terribly safe. He didn’t want to admit to staying here, or having thought of it as comforting. It had been though, it matched how Loki felt inside. Any sense of identity the building once held had long since fallen away and left its bare bones in its place.
No amount of paint could make it look as it once had, not unless someone took the time to scrape away the rust and repair the holes. Even then, it may never look perfect.
Nor should it.
“Ready?” Thor asked, appearing at Loki’s right, his hands aloft and waiting for Loki to climb into them. “Do you remember your room number? I don’t think I want to meet this infamous motel man.”
“His room is next to mine,” Loki said, turning to search over the upper floor.
He vaguely remembered tripping over slippery stairs when he’d first arrived, so it would make sense for his room to be on the second level. If Loki owned the motel, he’d probably want a room near the stairs as well, so he could look out at everything whenever he chose.
Thor let out a long, frustrated breath before asking, “Did you pick that room? Motels give you a choice, right?”
Loki shrugged as Thor’s hands came around his middle and helped him climb down from the truck. He snatched the book and held it close, having decided to think of what to do with it later, once he’d made it to his room.
“Maybe it was the only room available?”
The late hour and sparse scattering of cars in the lot provided some evidence to the contrary, though Loki supposed some guests may be out, and some rooms in need of maintenance?
“I don’t know,” Loki said as they moved through the parking lot.
The staircase looked more familiar up close than it had from the truck, but Loki also felt the same could be said about every door they passed, as well as the empty vending machine. He wished he’d written the number down, either on his hand or on his phone.
Would his receipt have the correct number?
A key ring jingled from nearby, quickly followed by a slamming door and the sterile scent of glass cleaner.
“Does this guy look familiar?” Thor asked in Loki’s ear. “Maybe we can ask him to check with the reception desk?”
Loki rocked into Thor and twisted, trying to find the source of the smell as a deep, rolling laugh echoed around them. He tilted, locking his knees as his eyes swam upwards to spy a crisp, ironed button down stretched far too tightly over the motel owner’s chest.
He shook his head and leant against Thor’s front. “That’s the owner.”
“Had a bit too much to drink my friend?” The Owner asked, his voice loud in the otherwise silent parking lot.
Thor pushed himself in front of Loki, shoving him backwards until he fell into the railing, causing the emptiness inside Loki to burn hot where his belly met metal. Did Thor think he helped Loki by dragging him around? Did he think of how it made Loki look, or did he think of nothing but how heroic he felt?
Loki might as well be a princess again, but this time he had no tulle ribbons.
He should’ve snuck away in the diner. He should leave Thor to speak with The Owner and make his way back to his own car, no matter how far it may be on foot. He’d arrive eventually, if he kept his feet and retraced his steps, he could manage it.
“Just a long day,” Thor said firmly.
Heavy boots scraped over the cement, keeping time with Loki’s heart as The Owner stepped closer, “and how would you know?” he asked. “My guest never mentioned any friends.”
“Excuse him,” Loki said bitterly.
He dredged up every ounce of the fiery feeling and shoved his way past Thor before attempting to politely skirt around The Owner.
A hand twice the size of Loki’s face caught him in the chest however, knocking the wind out of him as it stopped him in his tracks. “I’m looking out for you here,” The Owner said quietly, hunching over him as he spoke. “I see a lot of guests, and a lot of bad decisions,” his eyes glittered in the dark. “Not every guest has a chance to make one, but the ones who do—”
“I’m his brother,” Thor said. “So, thank you for your concern, but it’s misplaced.”
The Owner’s eyebrows swept upwards as an oily smile curled along his lips. “Well, you must be the mighty Thor then.”
Loki froze.
A rushing sound thundered in his ears causing the fire in his belly to burst into smoke and choke his lungs.
He’d never spoken about Thor. He’d never mentioned anyone from Trondheim, not Mama, nor Odin, not even Heimdall. He hadn’t even given The Owner his own name. The only memento he’d brought with him had been Mama’s astronomy book, and it had no names written inside of it.
Did The Owner search Loki’s bags after he left his room? Had he searched for information online? Did Odin reach out and ask him to frighten Loki?
What would be the purpose of that? Loki hadn’t stolen anything from Odin and he doubted he’d have been able to. Only Odin’s family had access to his bank account and Loki no longer belonged to his family. He wouldn’t be of any use to anyone seeking to threaten Odin either, he’d removed himself from Odin’s reach. He’d come all the way to the states and hidden in a rundown motel, how much farther should he have gone?
A smiling voice rumbled in his ear, “You talk in your sleep.”
Dull pain throbbed along his shoulder seconds before his head slammed into the railing.
“Sorry!” Thor said in a panicked whisper. “I’m sorry Loki, I didn’t mean for you to be caught in the crossfire!” Gentle hands searched over the back of his head before circling Loki’s waist and hefting him up, only to lower him back down when his knees refused to cooperate. “He’s a big fucker though, my god.”
Loki’s fingers slipped over Thor’s shoulders, searching for something to hold but unwilling to touch Odin’s jacket, however, it appeared to have gone missing.
“I don’t—” Thor started as his forehead ceased in concern. “He’s—”
The Owner’s massive body lay sprawled beside Loki’s feet. A sluggish cut bled from above his left eye with a red mark already beginning to darken around it. Loki hoped The Owner would be able to explain away a bruise to the head, and he hoped even more so that no one would question it.
“You said your room is next door to his, right?” Thor asked as a shaking, calloused thumb swept a loose curl from Loki’s forehead. “The one he came from isn’t numbered, so yours has to be the one next to it.”
Loki nodded and regretted it immediately as nausea swooped in his stomach.
Right, he’d hit his head. He didn’t know how he’d forgotten, nor did he know how hard he’d hit it, as it still felt full of cotton. A low ringing hummed in his ears, but Loki couldn’t be sure if that had more to do with his panic over what The Owner knew, or an actual head injury.
“I’m sorry,” Thor said again. “I’m so sorry to ask, but can I please have your room key? You can’t stay here,” he continued, his eyes searching Loki’s.
“I hid here.”
The angry flush along Thor’s cheeks drained and he dropped his head to look toward the ground. “I’m—this wasn’t what I promised you, I know—”
“I didn’t want to be found,” Loki said, trying to catch on to his earlier plans from before this awful moment, but they all fell from his head. He’d wanted to leave, hadn’t he? He distinctly remembered that every thought he had felt either too painful to consider, or too distant to understand. “I hid here for days.”
“I know.”
“Days, Thor.”
What if The Owner had been waiting to see what Loki would do, and watching for who he spoke with and if he visited friends? Had he crept into Loki’s room while he slept, or just listened to him through the walls? Loki despised both of those outcomes.
“We can find a different motel. Your choice! I’ll take you literally anywhere, no questions asked.”
Loki shook his head ‘no’, this time taking care to do so as slowly as he could. “My car is still at the diner.”
“I’ll call them and pay for the car to be returned to the company,” Thor said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll pay whatever charges that incurs, I’ll pay for train tickets, plane tickets, for anything—”
“I don’t want to be within Odin’s reach.”
“You’re not,” Thor said desperately.
Loki’s mouth dropped open, prepared to argue about how wearing Odin’s old jacket clearly meant Thor still felt some sort of love for his father, but he stopped short. His fingers were clenched around Thor’s rumpled t-shirt.
The jacket had gone missing. He’d noticed that moments ago.
Thor adored that jacket.
He tried to remember when he’d last seen it, even if a piece of him sneered at his own concern. If Odin’s jacket disappeared, it disappeared. Loki didn’t care.
Thor’s head fell forward, landing just beneath Loki’s jaw as his arms wound around his waist. “Loki, I know this wasn’t your plan, and I know it’s been shit for you—and I also admit that I’ve just made it worse—but please let me take you somewhere else.”
Loki stared at The Owner.
He didn’t know how long someone who’d been hit in the head might remain unconscious for, but he had a feeling it wasn’t long. He vaguely remembered reading about people having serious brain damage if they stayed knocked out for longer than a few seconds.
The creases in The Owner’s forehead flickered in the purple glow.
He might wake any minute now, which spelled imminent danger for anyone caught loitering, so no matter how much Loki wanted to hide from anything to do with Odin, Thor, or his adoption—
“I left two bags in my room,” Loki choked out as he reached into his pocket.
“Thank you.”
Once he had the key in hand, Thor leapt to his feet in a flurry of movement. He made short work of finding the door and jamming the key in the lock before bursting inside.
Loki on the other hand, continued to stare sedately at The Owner.
Two pearly buttons had gone missing during the fight, and the fabric at his shoulders began to split at the seams. Loki felt he could hear it tearing even now, despite how still The Owner lay. He spied one of the missing buttons next to limp knuckles, and the other beside a heavy key ring hanging from a loop on his belt.
The chiming sound they’d made as they’d rattled together and woke him at odd hours rang in his ears. He wondered quite suddenly if The Owner kept a copy of the master key, or if he only had one.
It would be difficult to spy on guests if he lost the keys to their rooms.
Cold cement bled into the fabric at Loki’s knees as he crawled forward and ran a finger over the metal ring. Wouldn’t it be ironic for Loki to take something used to invade privacy, seeing as his own had been invaded?
He found it hilarious, in a light-headed sort of way and giggled as he stroked the clasp.
It couldn’t be the worst crime Loki committed, and with a bit of perspective, he felt sure he could convince anyone to see his act as justified. Maybe he’d come back one day too, and drop the keys in the mailbox?
He pulled the clasp free and stuffed the key ring into his pocket as Thor appeared from behind the door with both bags slung over his shoulders.
“Has he moved?” Thor asked as his eyes flew over The Owner’s body.
Mindful of the throbbing ache at the base of his skull, Loki shook his head ‘no’, and climbed to his feet.
He reached out, pulling on the strap of the nearest bag but Thor held it tight. “I’ve got them, I’m more worried about yo—your head,” he said, glancing over Loki’s head. “And him waking up.”
Loki’s knees wobbled and threatened to give with each step, but held up as they made their way back down the stairs and across the parking lot. Thor helped him climb into the truck and once more laid the book in his lap before shoving Loki’s bags into the small space behind their seats.
The truck lurched as it tore out of the parking lot and left the bright purple glow behind.
“I’m surprised you’re going to leave him there,” Loki said.
“He’ll walk it off,” Thor muttered, rolling his shoulders. Perhaps Loki should’ve expected him to knock out The Owner? Thor’s sense of justice always struck hard. “He had it coming.”
Loki swallowed down bubbling nausea and tried to breathe as the ache in his head grew more difficult to ignore.
He wished Thor hadn’t knocked out The Owner. He wished The Owner hadn’t been a creep, and hadn’t listened to him, or potentially watched him while he slept. Loki wanted a bed, no matter how cold, or uncomfortable.
Sleeping in the truck wouldn’t be terrible, but he did wonder if his head would hurt more in the morning because of it.
His eyes slipped shut as he tilted to rest against the window and his shoulders grew heavy. The chance that Thor chased Loki for Odin weighed on him, but Loki figured he could always slip away in the morning, or whenever they stopped next. He had to hope that Thor wouldn’t try dragging him all the way back to Trondheim, even if he privately admitted that it would be easy, given Loki’s present state.
“Why did you stop there?” Thor asked in a soft voice.
Loki sniffed and blinked his eyes open in time to watch the last few buildings from within town disappear from sight. A black forest surrounded them on all sides now, guarded by towering pines.
“When you weren’t in Seattle, I thought you’d be in Portland for sure, but,” Thor glanced toward Loki as a concerned pinch in his eyes softened into something harder for Loki to discern. “You kept to the coast, small town after small town.”
“It’s because of the book,” Loki said.
Thor sat straighter, but kept his eyes trained on the road.
“Small towns have less light pollution, and the coast is the darkest area at night.” Loki idly considered fussing with the heat in the truck, but didn’t want to move more than necessary. He wanted a pillow, or a blanket. “You can see the Milky Way really well from the beach.”
“Galaxies,” Thor said with a nod.
Loki tucked himself tighter against the door and shut his eyes again as the free fall he’d been dancing around since they’d left the diner prowled his mind. He didn’t have the courage to confront his fears right now, and wished the overwhelming fogginess he’d felt earlier would return and dampen everything once more, rather than leaving him to endure this sprawling confusion.
“You said they eat each other,” Thor said. “Do they always do that? Just, travel around eating everything in their path?”
“No,” Loki said, resisting the urge to shake his head ‘no’. “Sometimes, if they’re equal in size, they merge.”
“That’s not the same as being eaten?”
“The stars brighten if they merge,” Loki whispered as the truck grew warmer. “And neither galaxy truly dies, but they grow into a different shape together.”
Thor hummed. “Will you be angry with me if I keep asking questions about this?” The truck rattled, nearly knocking Loki’s head from the window. “I’m worried about—I’m worried about you having a concussion.”
Loki sniffled.
Maybe Thor worried about a concussion, but Loki had a feeling he felt more concerned about Loki’s episode in the diner.
He knew he ought to leave the book, and everything it meant and what comfort it brought if he wanted to shake off Odin and Mama’s lie.
She wasn’t his Mama—
He could see that reading about the universe gave him perspective though.
When the pain in his heart felt too large, he could look up and see for himself the massive size difference between himself and a galaxy as large as the Milky Way.
“Do you want to find a beach?” Thor asked, nearly voiceless.
Loki sat up and rubbed his burning eyes, angry with Thor for attempting to guess how he felt and trying to solve it, but relieved beyond measure that he hadn’t asked Loki anything directly.
A timid voice, one Loki often squashed beneath doubt, whispered to him, delighted at the opportunity to show Thor the night sky.
“We can camp out,” Thor said as the steering wheel rocked beneath his hands. “I have a ton of blankets and gear. I didn’t know where I’d find you, so I packed a bit of everything,” he added before leaning to look up at the dark sky. “It’s been clear all day too, so hopefully it’ll be a clear night.”
Loki watched the forest pass them by as the road wound ever deeper into the landscape.
“Can we?”
“Let’s get an hour or so out from—” Thor waved a hand over his shoulder. “First safe looking beach we find, we can stop at.”
“The more remote, the better.”
As promised, Thor asked questions as they drove. He found particular joy in one of the nebulas called ‘Thor’s Helmet’, though Loki took his own joy in telling him about Lokabrenna, the brightest star in the sky, which had been styled after Loki’s namesake despite being commonly called Sirius.
Before Loki quite expected, sand stretched before him and he had a thick patchwork blanket wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him bundled and warm.
Thor settled beside him, keeping him warmer still. He passed over a bottle of Aspirin and the book before laying down and asking after a bright constellation directly overhead. He kept his eyes open for a long time, listening patiently as Loki relayed everything he’d read, though he had to double check the book from time to time. Some of the photos were too grainy to help, and others had faded with time, leaving the stars depicted within impossible to see.
However, once Thor drifted off, Loki continued to stare.
He wondered if he could see the effects of any of the constellations colliding, and cannibalizing one another.
He knew now, how overwhelming it felt to be swallowed by something larger than himself, and to have his identity pulled into an unrecognizable shape, but he hoped that the more time he spent apart, the larger he grew inside.
The tide rolled in nearby and soothed his nerves, sounding strangely comforting despite its hidden black depth.
He laid back just as Thor had earlier, pillowing his head in the sand beside Thor’s shoulder as he wound his arms around his warm chest. Without Thor awake to see it, Loki found it easy to bridge the distance Thor had carefully kept between them while awake. Watching how Thor behaved after he’d knocked out The Owner gave Loki some hope though. He seemed to want to be close to Loki, which Loki could admit, distantly, to wanting as well.
He spent his last conscious moments wondering whether or not he should sleep, if he truly did have a concussion. He didn’t have long to debate that question though, as he fell into an exhausted slumber just as Thor curled his own arms around Loki.
If he had blurry, waking moments of the beach falling away and the stars at their brightest, he didn’t think to question them.
“It’s too cold to stay out here,” he heard a soft voice say. “I’m just moving us to the truck.”
A quiet clicking noise echoed in his ears, but he felt too warm and comfortable to complain, as heavy arms kept him close. His mind drifted into silence, and he finally felt able to soak up what small comfort he’d been gifted.
Maybe he’d stay with Thor in the morning?
He just might, if Thor kept his prying to a minimum and continued offering free, boundless love.
“Sleep, Loki.”