Chapter 3
Thor waits for the music to stop playing from Loki’s room before he knocks.
His brother takes a long while to open the door, but Thor can be patient for this.
Thor sits with his back to the door, scrolling through his phone. When Loki jerks his door open, Thor lets himself fall backwards, spreading his arms and looking up at Loki from the floor.
“You wanna go out?” Thor asks.
“Go away,” Loki says. There's sweat on his brow, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I need to practice.”
“Lo, you’ve been on that thing for hours now,” Thor says, wheedling. “Come on, let’s get some sun, it’ll do you some good.”
Loki hesitates.
“Anyway,” Thor says, “the sooner you come with me, the sooner you’ll get rid of me.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Loki mumbles. His hands twitch. Thor knows his violin is laying on its stand in his room. A stand for a violin. Thor doesn’t even get a hello these days.
Still, that’s why he’s here now.
“Come onnnn,” Thor says, and reaches out a hand to curl around Loki’s ankle.
“Okay,” Loki sighs. His hands go up to flip his hair into a bun, and Thor tracks those pale, slender fingers moving deftly in dark hair.
He looks away.
—
It’s the height of summer, so Thor puts on a wide-brimmed summer hat, and gets one for Loki too, who takes it and puts it on without saying a word.
They go to the Farmer’s Market, a generous name for the collection of stalls and booths that prop themselves up in the plaza every weekend. It’s pleasantly busy, and they know the locals, so it’s nice to stroll around.
Loki gets them drinks, some fresh lemonade that they sip with paper straws that get soggy too fast. But he knows Thor cares about that sort of thing, about turtles eating plastic and fish dying in their oceans, so he doesn’t even complain.
Thor gets them some soft tacos filled with crisp, succulent fish, and a punnet of fresh cherries, relishing the way Loki’s eyes go wide at them.
“Oh my god,” Loki says, immediately plucking one off the top and popping it into his mouth. He plays with the green stem left behind, fiddling with it with long, elegant fingers that Thor is used to seeing curled around the bow and neck of a violin.
“Good?” Thor asks, taking a sip of his lemonade.
“So good,” Loki says, chewing. His smile turns mischievous and he spits the cherry pit at Thor, who groans and bats at Loki’s shoulder.
“You’re so gross,” Thor says, popping two cherries into his mouth at the same time. He relishes the way taut skin gives way to soft flesh, and very carefully doesn't think about pressing a kiss to a spot on the side of Loki's neck, where a loose curl rests.
“You love me,” Loki says, and blushes when Thor says, “Yeah.”
“Hey, look,” Loki says, putting the cherry stem into his mouth and taking on a look of concentration. Thor looks down at his drink while Loki’s tongue and teeth and lips all work together. Thor knows what he’s doing. He’s trying not to think too hard about it.
Eventually, Loki makes a triumphant noise and sticks out his tongue to display a cherry stem, knotted in on itself.
“Talented,” Thor says, dry. He clears his throat, takes another gulp of his drink.
They eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence. As they walk home, Thor holds the box between them, the two of them picking off cherries, staining their fingers red with juice.
They’re laughing as they walk home, talking about some childhood memory, but the flush on Loki’s face fades as they stop at their house. Someone’s delivering a package—Loki’s package. Loki’s letter from college, for music school.
The rest of the day is lost to that, to Loki’s excitement, but mostly to Loki’s utter relief, then to Loki’s shattering disappointment when their father barely acknowledges his achievement.
Loki shuts himself in his room and plays beautiful music for hours.
Thor leaves the box of cherries, still half-full, on the kitchen counter, forgotten.
—
Years later, Thor still remembers that day with regret. He should have said something, should have done better. It takes him another three years to pick up the courage—to visit Loki at college, to take him on vacation, to tell him he loves him.
He almost hates himself for it, for Loki’s state, for how he’s burned himself out, and for what? But he loves Loki too much. Knows Loki loves him too much for hate to take any space in this relationship.
He lets it go, and life is sweeter for it.
A week into living together, Thor wakes up to Loki’s side of the bed empty, but still warm. He goes outside to find his brother sitting at the kitchen table, ankles crossed, box of cherries at his elbow, a stem poking out of his mouth. He’s sketching something on some print paper, his newest creative venture. His violin is still safe in its case in one of the boxes they haven’t unpacked. He hasn’t touched it in months.
It’s summer again, and the sunlight from the window drapes itself on Loki’s bare shoulders like a mantle.
When Thor kisses him, he tastes like sunlight, like cherries, like the sweetness of summer and a love that’s been years in the making.
“What was that for?” Loki asks, twirling his pencil between those beautiful fingers. Thor takes those and kisses them too.
“Nothing,” Thor shrugs. “Everything. I don’t know. It’s nice to see you like this.”
“It’s nice to be like this,” Loki admits.
“To be with me?” Thor asks, teasing.
“To be with you,” Loki says, serious.
Thor has to kiss him again, and again.
They share the box of cherries until it’s empty.