Chapter 10
I might’ve stabbed whoever decided that three consecutive shows was an appropriate workload to lay on me. The stress was overwhelming, and the stress of my personal life was only adding to it.
It’s been difficult to go so long without telling anyone what happened. Nearly a week has gone by since the camping, and I haven’t even told Pepper about the kiss. I didn’t want to tell anyone. The thought has felt too much like validating its importance somehow, when it meant nothing—just a douchebag move on Loki’s part. I’ve been determined to forget it.
The stress of the job has made that harder too, in turn. The anxiety of deadlines and alterations to my routines has been piling up, and spilling over—making it harder to focus on the work. It’s been a vicious cycle.
So I sit quietly for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure, instead of constructing another routine. There was a time when I would’ve dealt with stress by singing and dancing, but it’s been so long since I did either for the fun of it… True, I’ve choreographed a lot, but I couldn’t remember the last time I really stood up and danced.
I run my fingers through my hair. Fuck it, I decide, and get up to saunter over to the speaker box.
One song plays after another, and I hum as I shuffle through them. None of them feel right, until I finally land on one that does. Slow, delicate and emotional. No one was around to see me flutter about, and this is long overdue.
***
“Okay everybody,” Pepper said to a room full of people.“She’s hanging out downstairs, and we’re all going to yell ‘surprise’ when she comes up—only on my mark.”
Loki stood nearby, wondering why he’d bothered to come to this event. Cerys’ surprise birthday party.
Ah, yes—Rita had invited him. Purely as a friend, as she’d made perfectly clear. And no one knew of that night with Cerys, so there were no outward objections to his presence. Save for his own, though they were passing. The sting had lessened since that night in the forest, as he’d thought harder about Cerys’ motivations in doing what she did.
Truly, it was amusing in no small part. She had tried hard—so hard to mask her enthusiasm, but Loki saw right through it. Though she hadn’t had the same physical indicators, Loki was familiar with her touch, and he knew that she’d reveled in it just as much as he did. The way her hands slid softly up his sides, the way she panted and let out that bit of a moan—despite the fact she’d pushed him away in the end. For a moment there, he wondered if she would grasp his shirt instead. But no—she pushed, and he pulled away immediately. The look on her face was also telling—jarred by the sudden absence of his affection. In those few seconds, she’d gotten comfortable in it.
He’d thought about it endlessly since it occurred. As well as what came after, how she used her voice—that stung hard. Loki was tempted to consider it a betrayal, until he considered the nature of Cerys’ predicament—to have feelings for another man, while clinging to the one she’d promised herself to. It must have been difficult. Must still be difficult.
“I’m gonna get some water, do you want some?” Rita suddenly asked, and Loki blinked away the thoughts.
“Sorry?”
“Water,” she repeated. “Do you want some?”
“Oh—no, that’s alright.”
“Kay, I’ll be right back.”
Loki waited as she teetered off, looking about the faces that he didn’t recognize. Most of them were dressed in dancing apparel, and he figured they were affiliated with the Academy as well.
All in all, Loki was bored and needed entertainment. He hadn’t been called upon by Thor or Stark to offer any help, save for a minor consultation, and all seemed quiet in the world.
Save for the faint, humming sound that suddenly graced Loki’s ears. He furrowed a brow, looking in the direction of the sound. It disappeared, and then murmured again against the walls.
He pushed off the table he’d been leaning against, and sauntered across the room, following it. He recognized the humming, the magic—it was Cerys’ voice.
Perhaps she using it unknowingly? Or maybe directing the effect toward herself—that made the most sense, considering how calming it was. He followed it out, out from the room and down some halls. It echoed and disappeared intermittently, and it wasn’t until he descended some stairs that it became a bit more consistent.
Then it paused again.
Loki eyed the door at the far left side of the hallway, where the sound was coming from. He was sure that that was the source, and moved slowly toward it. It was almost time for Cerys to be fetched, but he figured that a little spying could do no harm for the little bit of time he knew he had left. He used his magic to open the door quietly, masking his presence with an illusion as he strode inside.
And there she was, standing far below him on the stage. Music was playing over the loud speakers, echoing throughout the room, but she merely stood there. Occasionally she swayed back and forth, or gestured a bit. Every movement started and ended with reluctance, and it was strange…
Loki tilted his head. The music wasn’t that exciting, either. It drew something of a somber look on her face. And Cerys finally closed her eyes frustratedly, spinning in place. The steady turns picked up with a slight beat, and then she was dancing.
A smile graced his lips as he watched her—movements uncoordinated, but still elegant. Sharp, but clearly thought up on the spot. He wondered how things got this far, from the first time he’d watched her dance on that stage. There was never a time in his life that he was so fascinated with a woman, and now he was sneaking about the back of a theater because of one.
Fire… The thought immediately came to mind. Because Cerys was fire, in every way. She was truthful. Gracious. Passionate, and intelligent. A hard worker and a fierce survivor. And… she was kind.
He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, tiring of them… Truly, he was so damn tired. And in part, he couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly opt to seek out partners for this ‘love’ sensation.
A door suddenly opened behind the stage, and Cerys’ movement ceased. Loki stiffened, staring intently at the stage as Michael sauntered in her direction. Cerys turned and faced the rows once more, and Loki strained to see the tenseness that overcame her. The man had mumbled something to her with a smile, but she didn’t look at him—instead, she raised a hand to her cheek, and began to weep.
Loki narrowed his eyes confusedly, wondering what had happened just now. What she had been thinking about.
Michael darted to her as she sank to the ground, crossing her legs beneath her. Her face was buried in her hands. A sharp pain cut through Loki’s chest, as he watched Michael kneel down to comfort her. Frustration swept through him, and he tuned his hearing closer to them—wanting to hear the exchange, forgetting how it stripped him of his tact and dignity.
“Don’t… don’t just up and leave one day, okay?” Cerys stuttered tearfully, and Loki froze.
“No, of course not,” Michael shook his head, pulling her against his chest. It was close—intimate.
His mind went blank for a moment as he wondered what she meant by it—whether he’d be right in thinking she had thought of the day he left. Whether she was begging that man not to do the same.
The very thought of it was repugnant, and he’d had enough—enough of all this nonsense. He would watch no more, listen no more—he would simply forget this ever happened, and return to his normal state. God of Mischief, brother to Thor, prince of Asgard… That prospect was far less frustrating.
He turned and stormed from the room, still cloaked by his illusion. The door shut loudly, likely starting Cerys and Michael, but he didn’t care.
He made his way back to the party, calming as much as possible by the time he got there. Enough to set a goal for himself—find Rita. She had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, but Loki soon spotted her talking to a group of girls.
He drove a smile into his scowl as he came up behind her, and brushed her arm. “Excuse me,” he said, giving her a hard look. “Rita—may I speak to you for a moment?”
She eyed him strangely. “Oh, sure,” she said, before excusing herself from the group.
Loki all but pulled her into the empty hall, and gave her a look before leaning in to her—eyes closed.
“Woah,” she stuck a hand out on his chest. “What’re you doing?” he stopped. “I asked you here as a friend, nothing else…”
An amused grin tugged on his lip. “Friends can have ulterior interests, can’t they?”
Again he leaned in, and again she stopped him “Uhhh, no—they can’t,” she shook her head. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
He pressed his lips together. “Nothing…” he paused, and she gave him a look. Finally, he admitted, “I just want a distraction, that’s all.”
Rita’s expression relaxed knowingly. “Okay, that makes more sense… But from what?” Loki said nothing, and she raised her brow knowingly, like she was coaxing something from him that she already knew. “From…… Cerys, right? You have a thing for her, don’t you? And… you know she has a boyfriend?”
Loki refused to dignify her questioning. She’d taken several shots in the dark there, albeit accurately, but he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge it. He merely stood there, staring at her blankly.
“Yeah, well, for future reference, just be honest with me, ‘cause I’m not about dating heartbroken guys,” she shook her head. “Doesn’t mean I’m not open to something casual, but I’d rather have us be on the same page.”
He blinked surprisedly, wondering how she’d managed to branch along the subject so calmly. All the effects he’d seen that night of their date were gone. She no longer reacted to him as she did before. And to explore the idea of furthering their relationship so casually? Sex hadn’t been a big deal on Asgard, but it seemed to be a rather touchy subject among Midgardians. This conversation, therefore, had taken a decidedly strange turn…
“Um….” he murmured. “Alright?”
She widened her eyes. “What does that mean?”
He stared. “It means… whatever you decide it means.”
Rita eyed him for a moment, and then sighed, glancing at the doors. “You… Well, you probably don’t want to see her, huh?” she said, looking back at him.
Loki paused. “No, I don’t.”
Her face was drawn, rather despondent. She shrugged, looking him up and down. “Whatever, to be honest, I’m not crazy about this party anyway. We can get out of here if you really want.”
The implication was hard to miss. “Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s.”
***
I’d never been to a surprise party, much less my own.
And I’ve never felt more special in my life, than the minute I walk through the big double doors with Michael at my side. After my mini-breakdown to him, I really need the jolt of happiness that suddenly bolts through me.
Everyone is smiling as they yelled ‘surprise,’ and the music comes on immediately. One look around the room, and I can hardly believe the amount of effort that’s obviously gone into all the decor and catering. The first person to greet me is Pepper, before the onslaught of guests start going through their social rounds with me.
How have you been? How’s work? How’s the love life?
Hours go by as I continuously answer the same questions, while dancing and engaging in high spirited drinking games. At some point, someone breaks out birthday speeches—actual birthday speeches—from a little mic on the other side of the room.
Everyone I know is here, save for a few people. Others come and go, and toward the end of the night, I go and pull the microphone out one last time—drunkenly proclaiming my everlasting love for the goddess of best friends and birthday parties. Pepper Potts.
“This girl,” I point to her, swaying a bit and slurring my words. She’s equally inebriated, as are most people in the room, so my embarrassment is fine. “Is literally the reason I’m alive, I’d literally not be alive—she’s literally saved my life cuz she’s so smart…”
Pepper cringes, drunkenly indicating that I’m oversharing. “Oh no,” I giggle, pressing a finger to my lip. “Shhhhhhhhhhh—okay but let me tell you guys, I love her so much. I would literally do anything for you Pep. I know you think people don’t always appreciate what you do, but I see it all and appreciate it so much. There’s nothing you do that I don’t appreciate….” my voice begins to trail off. “WOOH!”
I top off the speech with a final yelp, and hop off the stage as applause breaks out through the room. Dancing ensues for some time more, but I lose track of it. At least, until the crowd grows more and more sparse. Pretty soon, nearly everyone has gone, and it’s time for us to go too.
Michael has plans with his family the next day, planning on leaving early in the morning, so he goes home—I’m welcome to come of course, if I’m not too hungover, but that’s not likely at this rate. I’m hardly even aware of the ride back to the apartment.
One of Pepper and Tony’s SUV’s escorts us home, and Andy opens the door for us. I giggle sharply after tripping over a pair of shoes, catching myself midair.
“Whose shoes are thaaat?” Andy furrows a brow, pointing drunkenly to the ones I’d tripped over.
The group goes silent for a moment. “Dunno,” Janie slurs, her voice lilting happily.
“DUNNOOOOO!” Lalita suddenly bellows, and turns back to her room.
“Oh noooo,” I croon at her. “Stop screaming, Jesus… It’s sleep time.”
“Yeah it is,” she sinks. “Okay, I’m gonna go now.”
I nod. “Me too.”
I’d drunk plenty of water at the party, and fully anticipate getting up several times to pee. I groan as I trail across the room, furrowing a brow at a black jacket laying on the couch, before continuing on—not giving it much thought.
Sleep time… I open my bedroom door, sighing at the beautiful sight of my bed waiting to welcome me back. I throw my shoes off and undress quickly, knocking out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
***
I wake up the following morning with a pounding headache. Partly from barely getting any sleep, and partly from the remnants of my drinking escapade. It stretches from my shoulders, all the way up the backside of my skull, and every sliver of light in the room is piercing. I groan as I sit up in the bed, dragging my legs across the sheets.
It takes a second to steady myself enough to stand, and all my thoughts are bent on getting some water. It’s early in the morning, and I thought I’d have to pee again, but I just don’t feel it.
I saunter toward the door, rubbing my eyes closed and missing the doorknob twice before I finally grapple onto it.
“Ugh…” I step through the threshold, as Rita’s door opens simultaneously
I open my eyes slightly, seeing a pair of black socks and pants step out into the hallway. I furrow a brow at them, moving my hand away from my face as I trail the length of the figure in front of me.
I abruptly flinch, gasping as I run my eyes over Loki—shirtless—standing in my roommate’s doorway. Hair disheveled and looking a little hollow, he stares at me plainly, and my mind goes blank.
The thoughts are slow, bubbling to the surface, like heavy, molten metal. Loki…. Came out of her room… He came out of her room… Him and her, they…
My gut coils painfully, and I don’t feel the tears coming before they rise. My gaze slides slowly to the white wall next to the door, and I stare ahead at it, seeing him shift in the corner of my eye—still watching me. All the blood must’ve rushed from my limbs and face, as a sudden limpness swallows my body whole.
An image suddenly flashes through my mind, of the two of them together. Vividly. My whole body trembles with a sob, and I shake my head, while keeping my face taut—shaking the image away. But it’s too late, the damage is done.
For a moment, Loki merely watches me stare ahead, with tears pooling in my eyes. My face turns angry, and as he finally steps toward me hesitantly, I recoil away from him—repulsed by the idea of him touching me. After touching her…
I glare at him. “My roommate!?” I hiss quietly—everyone else is still asleep.
He stares at me blankly, pulling back his hand. Bastard. He knows exactly why this is so upsetting—why this crossed a line on every level. I can’t get away from a roommate, I have to see her every day—have to deal with visions of them now, every time I see her…
My thoughts are spinning. Fast. And I stumble back into my room, shutting the door behind me. Everything starts disgusting me—the bed he slept on, this room that he lived in. And I can’t get away from any of it.
Rationality kicks in, and I start telling myself I shouldn’t feel this way. I don’t have a right to, he has no obligation to me, my affections and my feelings already have their commitment… There’s nothing that makes any of this okay.
But I can’t—I can’t handle it. Can’t handle rationalizing, can’t handle what I just saw, can’t come to grips with the imminent danger to my relationship. These awful, awful feelings that I just can’t deny anymore. I wouldn’t feel this way if I didn’t have them. Fuck.
Fuck it all.
Fuck him.
Fuckeverything.