~Six Weeks Later, 11:17am, July 21, 2019~

Lying face down on his hotel bed in Paris, not even half-awake yet since he’d been out til 3 last night (this morning, technically), Loki heard his ringtone screaming at him from the bedside table like a shrill schoolmarm for the fifth god forsaken time.  Text alerts and notifications wouldn’t bloody shut up either.  Apparently, he’d been too drunk to put it on silent before he passed out.  Lovely.  Groaning as he stretched across the pillow, he blindly reached for the damn thing and looked at the screen.

5 missed calls and voicemails from his publicist- oh what NOW? -plus 7 texts from Val, 10 from Hela (what?!), 3 from Thor, 1 from his mum.  Considering his highly restricted settings for all social media platforms since their validation screwed with his already jacked up head just a wee bit too much, seeing 20 or so alerts from his accounts was disconcerting, to say the least.

Huh- none from Sig? Strange.

He frowned, putting a hand over his eyes because his head was killing him, then started the tiring process of looking through the digital barrage that apparently required his urgent attention.  The first text was from his publicist, linking to a TMZ (seriously? -a LINK?) post of some random woman with him at a bar last night.  Well, not with him.  He’d gone out alone.  And he came back to the hotel alone…somehow.  How he got back here was a bit foggy.  He sat up, squinting at the screen.

“What the hell?”

The caption read “Critically-acclaimed author spotted in Paris getting VERY close to an unknown woman.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh shit.”

He was facing the camera, a tumbler in his right hand- no doubt one of many glasses since he couldn’t remember a damn thing past 11-ish.  Unfortunately, the woman was not facing the camera, but was turned completely toward him instead, which would not be an issue if she weren’t actually wrapping her body around him like a koala.

Son of a-

Her left hand was gripping his waist…um…was that…under the hem of his shirt?  Yes- why else would the Calvin Klein logo just above his belt be visible?  Her right arm was slung over his shoulders, which again, wouldn’t be problematic if her bare leg wasn’t hooked around him so high on his hip that her inner thigh was flush with the button fly of his trousers.  Was this a joke?  Was it photoshop?  He squinted further, zooming in with his thumb and forefinger.

What even- her OPEN mouth is on my NECK?!

And it’s not photoshop, LO. This actually happened.

God, I can’t remember any-

His eyes popped wide open then as the whole thing came screaming back to him.  The specifics were lost on him, but his gut response to the gratefully brief interaction with that person was as clear as day- as though his brain had downloaded the situation and saved it in the “don’t touch me don’t touch me take your hands OFF me” file in his memory that was reserved for the WORST moments of his life.  Likely no one who had seen (or was now seeing) the image would register the look on his face as fear or extreme discomfort.  No, he looked…bored.  Straight face.  Glazed eyes.  Clearly tired.  His left hand was hanging awkwardly behind his back, and maybe that was the most obvious reminder of the general claustrophobic feeling in that moment when that girl appeared out of nowhere.  It registered as “I need space please dear god I just need space. MY space. My apartment. My city. This isn’t the right place. I’m in the WRONG PLACE!” and that’s what was hiding in his bored expression.

People who really knew him would see it in his eyes.  Sig most of all.  She might even know verbatim the words in playing in his head in this picture: “my knife is in my room, it isn’t on me, oh my god I forgot my knife this girl isn’t an actual threat so I wouldn’t actually use it on her but oh shit I do not have the ONE thing I HAVE TO HAVE”

He couldn’t remember specifically, but 100% that was the moment that he had called it a night.  A sudden realization of being caught out in the open without the only thing that kept him from being completely vulnerable absolutely would cause him to hightail it out of anywhere.  He reached down, feeling blindly around his belt, and sure enough, the blade was secure on it.  Dead on.  He left that bar and came straight back here just to put his knife where it belonged.  And then he passed out.  Oh, if only he’d thought to chug 2 litres of water first.

He groaned, wishing the pounding in his head would give it a rest as he scowled at the picture.  He scrolled to the next link, which was a different account’s post of a picture that was taken by a pap last May.  He remembered this one well since it was actually a good one, and he and Sig were happy as hell that day.  He’d been out shopping with Sig for the first time in… ever.  So… maybe this post wouldn’t be upsetting?  Doubtful.  Optimism had never done him any favors.

Yea I’m jealous of @SIGNFREY88 (talk about GOALS) but I am not bitter towards her bc obviously she makes LO happy and he DESERVES TO BE HAPPY.  But now one of their friends is saying they broke up in June before the tour?!! They were spotted in SoHo just THIS May, and they looked IN LOVE AF?! WTH HAPPENED I AM SO WORRIED ABOUT HIM 🥺😩💔😭 tell me you’re okay @LOKISWRITING (don’t tag them in the comments pls!) 

jfc don’t add to this drama 🙄  

Ffs YOU ALREADY TAGGED them 

Yikes your funeral. LO fans know not to talk about LFDG

Tf is LFDG? 

LFDG = LO’s Forever Dream Girl HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS 

WHY ARE YOU YELLIN 

So he wrote sunlight for her and then she breaks up with him? That is fucked up 😠 

How do you know HE didn’t dump HER? 🤔 

Because LO an 😇🥰 

Angel??? Nah sis. We all read Starboy. 😈😎🔥  

I’m a mess for him but like let’s not pretend he doesn’t play when the cat’s away. 😏 

Noooooo I love them! 😢 #logynforever 

Next book: “Nevermind. My Bad.” 🌦 

LO’s next book: Love is Dead 💀  

LO’s next book: I Regret Everything 🥴 

LO’s next book: Think I’ll Try Dick Now Thanks

Wheezing at these book titles 

ILL TRY DICK NOW THANKS WTF 🤣

Y’all evil 😹

What are you all, 12?  You shouldn’t even be ALLOWED to read his books at your age. If he and Sig legit called it quits, it’s no laughing matter. 

Ok Karen 👍🏼 

I’m 23 but nice try 

31 over here! Grown ups make jokes sometimes too ✌🏽 

28 and feelin great

81 older than LO and he likes it 

😳🤯 YOU’RE 81?! I-

Omg I meant I was BORN IN 81 😝

WAS ABOUT TO SAY WE GOT A GRANNY STAN 👵🏼😹

Sometimes feels that way 😉😩

Well if they DIDN’T break up, that means he just cheated on her in Paris 🤷🏼‍♀️ yikes

Cheated?? Bull.Shit. LO looks uncomfortable af in that pic. 

I’d go further than “uncomfortable”. That girl was literally GROPING him. Call it what it is: sexual assault. 🤬

💯 I hope he presses charges

But the French police aren’t doing anything???

No one gives af when a woman does that to a man 😒

Ya’ll need to chill about that Paris pic. Man is fine. 🌟😎🔥

Stop obsessing over who he’s dating. Just enjoy his books and the view. 

His eyes blew wide at the screenshot of top comments that his publicist (who he was absolutely going to FIRE) had also sent that he unfortunately couldn’t unsee.  And how the hell did this person go off and tag his girl while telling everyone else not to like a goddamn digital schoolmarm?

God the lack of brainpower in this world is demoralizing.

He grabbed the hotel phone from the nightstand and threw it across the room, the cord ripping out of the wall with such force it yanked out a chunk of drywall.  The lamp came next as he growled at the empty room. 

“You’re worried about me?  Then maybe don’t post this rubbish at ALL!”

Eyes slamming shut, he sank back down onto the bed and rubbed his temples.

Oh, that was a mistake.

Son of a bitch– the wretched sledgehammer behind his eyes truly was going to obliterate his skull.

No more screaming or throwing things.

Pushing a shaking hand through his hair, he opened his recent calls, scrolling through until he got to Sigyn.  He tapped her name with his thumb and put his phone to his ear.

“Come on, pick up pick up pick up pick up,” he said through his teeth, pacing across the room.

It went to her voicemail: “Hey, it’s Sigyn. I’m DEFINITELY not gonna return your call, but I’ll consider texting you. Cheers!”

“Goddammit,” he said under his breath.  When he heard the tone on the other end, he pulled a hand down his face.

“Hi love, it’s um…” he squinted at his watch, his hungover brain struggling to convert the time difference, “…wow…is it really only 5:30 there?  God, I’m sorry for calling so early.”

No, I’m not.  I want you to call me back right this second.

“Just…” he sighed heavily, putting his hand over his eyes again, “please call me when you get this.”

He ended the call and stared miserably down at his phone.  His publicist would hate him for it, but he typed up a quick, entirely reactionary, unprofessional, unprepared, zero-fucks-given, LO-is-kinda-volatile tweet.

You talking money, need a hearing aid. You talking bout me, I don't see the shade. Switch up my style, I take any lane. I switch up my cup, I kill any pain. Look what you've done. I’m a motherfuckin' starboy.

Then, he sent it out into the seventh circle of hell known as “the internet”, entirely unconcerned for any of the goddamned consequences.

No apologies.  No regrets.  Now make the incessant DINGING stop.

Opening his settings, he checked his notification filters.  They were already restricted to alerts from Sig, Val, his mum, Hela (that jaw-breaking nutcracker was worth it), and a few others.  God, to think if he allowed push alerts from every fan, every journalist, every critic- both professional and bored trolls -his phone would probably explode.  So… wow…apparently his few favorite people were sending his phone into a dinging frenzy on their own, and the one person he wanted to talk to hadn’t texted him.  Okay then.  Nothing to do but silence the damn thing for now.  An overload of saliva flooded his mouth then, and his stomach turned over violently.

Oh…oh no…

Hand over his mouth, he dropped his phone on the bed and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to avoid vomiting on the pristine floor tiles.  The alcohol from last night was certainly not helping the horrendous TMZ-induced nausea.  Or the headache.  He pushed to his feet on shaking legs and turned on the shower.  Waiting for it to heat up, he popped two aspirin and chased them with a bottle of water from the minibar.  Twenty minutes later, after scrubbing himself raw to wash off the residue from that woman’s hands and everything he had not done wrong last night down the drain, he checked his phone.

11:52 AM Missed Call from Forever Dream Girl

She’d called him back.  It wasn’t even 6 in the morning in Manhattan, and it was a Sunday.  This fucking perfect girl.  Sig had to be losing her mind over that photo.  Her protective instinct was off the charts, and it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if she was looking at flights to Paris right now.

Thumb hovering over the “return call” icon, he swallowed the lump in his throat, then nearly dropped his phone when a text from her popped up on the screen:

Sigyn:  I saw the picture, and heard your vm, AND TRIED TO CALL. PLEASE CALL ME.  I’M OBVIOUSLY AWAKE!

He sank to the bed and put his head in his hands.  Before he hit the call button, another rapid text popped up on the screen.

Sigyn:  k fine if you can't call for some reason THEN AT LEAST TEXT ME! TELL ME YOU ARE OKAY. PLS TELL ME YOU ARE OKAY 🥺

Oddly enough the exclamation point made his headache worse- as though he could hear her too loud voice right next to him.  Blowing out a slow breath through his mouth, he gingerly laid back on the bed.  He needed to close his eyes for a second because the screen was too bright.

Sigyn:  omg Loki, love, please please please CALL ME🥺🥺

Sigyn: looking at flights right now swear to god

Sigyn: need you to pay for my ticket tho bc I DID NOT BUDGET FOR THIS

Sigyn: I’m at buckets place with farce and she’s DOING INSTA DETECTIVE WORK TO FIGURE OUT WHO TF THAT GIRL IS AND WHEN I GET THERE I WILL FIND HER AND THROW A LARGE HOT COFFEE IN HER FACE AND THEN I’M BRINGING YOU HOME

Sigyn: god damn autocorrect *BUCKY’S place *DARCE

Sigyn: LOKI 😩

Sigyn: 😭💔🙏🏼

Sigyn: im about to call hotel security to check on you

The pounding in his head finally eased up, and he opened his eyes, frowning at the screen which he had not clicked off and therefore appeared to be reading but ignoring her string of texts.  Great.  He tapped on her contact avatar to call her.

---

~Same time, Bucky’s apartment, Brooklyn, NY~

Sigyn breathed “oh thank god” when Loki’s picture and name lit up her screen.  She tapped to answer his call instantly while pacing anxiously around Bucky’s living room.  He spoke before she had a chance to get out the “ey” part of “hey”.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” his gravelly voice came through her earbuds like the prettiest music EVER.

She dropped to her knees, no doubt bruising them on the hardwood, and cried into her palm.

“Are…are you…” she tried, her voice breaking between sniffles, “are you sure?”

No way in hell could he imagine how god damn relieved she was to hear him.  She would give anything to have him physically with her, but at least the satellites were on her side, connecting Loki to her over a seemingly endless ocean.  Not that she should feel disconnected to someone who held her heart in his hands.  She heard him sigh heavily on his end.  He sounded exhausted.  Shocking.

“Other than vomiting about twenty minutes ago?  Yes, I’m sure.” Another sigh. “Drank far too much last night.  I now relate to that ‘gettin too old for this shit’ line on a level I previously thought inconceivable.”

She smiled despite herself. “Even hungover your vocabulary exceeds what I previously thought inconceivable.”

“Mm,” he hummed, making a sound somewhere between a deep laugh and a groan, “stop stroking my ego, woman.”

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to stroke something.  Namely that incredible thing between his thighs.  God, why oh WHY wasn’t there an app for jumping into the phone screen and arriving in her boyfriend’s hotel room on the other side of the ATLANTIC?  Ugh his voice sounded so good.  Hearing his voice was like listening to the taste of gourmet chocolate melting in your mouth.

Closing her eyes, she licked her lips, picturing his-

NOT HELPING.

She rolled her eyes.  For pity’s sake, she hadn’t been able to get through five straight minutes without thinking of him in six weeks.  As though she needed help remembering that she hadn’t had the immense pleasure of sleeping with him since June 10th– a thousand bloody years ago! Oh, it made her see red every time.  When he got home, she was going to make up for all this absurd time lost by attaching herself to him in every way possible for a solid month.  Seriously, she might just quit her job, toss her overly demanding to-do list, and make a new one.

To-do list:

Loki

LOKI

LOKI

LOKI!!!!!!

“I feel a bit better since I had a shower.”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a moan as the glorious image of her ridiculous specimen boyfriend naked and dripping wet shot into her brain like ‘spray and pray’ fully automatic rapid-fire rounds.  

Go ahead, shoot me, Loki.  I’ll even THANK you for it.

She was the worst girlfriend.  He was dealing with the aftermath of excessive alcohol, creepy people groping him, and fucking TMZ blasting it all over the planet, but she wasn’t consoling him with heartfelt concerned and caring words.  No, here she was daydreaming about him stepping out of a shower, dropping his towel, and fucking her on his bathroom counter.

“Sig?”

One of his hands would hold her hip, the other stretching up, splaying flat against the mirror behind her back.

“Sig, sweetheart?  You there?”

With her legs shaking uncontrollably, she would attach her open mouth to the hinge of his jaw as she clung to his back and shoulder. God, her toes would curl so hard.

“Um…I can hear you breathing hard, gorgeous girl.  What in god’s name is happening right now?”

She snapped out of her fantasy at the sound of creaking floorboards.  Darcy had walked into the room, saying something about Bucky making pancakes.

“Do what?” Sigyn asked, shaking her head.  She saw her best friend’s lips moving but only heard Loki’s voice.

“Since I hear Lewis in the background being loud as ever, I assume you are unfortunately not in a bedroom with the door shut, and therefore do not have your hand inside your little purple sleep shorts, which is what I was envisioning.  Wow, I think the cure to this hangover is a hard-on because my headache and nausea have left the building.”

Oh god, her insides were melting.  She felt completely flushed, and from the knowing expression on Darcy’s face, she looked it too.

“Jesus, get a room, Siggy,” she smirked, grabbing a coffee mug.

“I heard that,” Loki’s deep baritone rumbled in her ear as she pushed to her feet.

Eyes rolling, Sigyn flipped her best friend off as she brushed passed Bucky in the hall.  He gave her a gruff morning greeting, which she returned with a flippant wave while closing the second bedroom door behind her.  Ignoring Darcy laughing in the other room, she flopped onto the bed face first and groaned.

“I miss youuuuuuu,” she whined, hitting the mattress repeatedly with her fist.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he sighed after a beat, “even more so after last night.”

The disappointment in his voice brought her back from her sex-starved haze.

“Did anything happen after…” she started, gesturing to the empty room even though he couldn’t see her, “after whatever was going on in that photo.”

“No,” he responded quickly and firmly, “I was just having a drink- or eight drinks -and she appeared next to me, asked for a hug, and didn’t wait for me to respond.  She grabbed me, and her friend took a picture.  That was the extent of it.”

Sigyn grit her teeth, pushing up to her knees, twisting the bedspread angrily.  Honestly, she wanted to cut that person.  Her friend too.

“She’s lucky I wasn’t there to kick her in the vagina.”

“Oh, if ONLY,” he laughed hard enough to make himself go into a coughing fit. “I’m more exhausted than anything.  I had more energy the first few weeks.  I could sign books and listen to their stories, and make jokes and take selfies, but it’s been six weeks.  I’m supposed to smile at these things, but I’m fairly certain I just look pissed off all the time now.”

“Anyone with half a brain won’t fault you for that.”

“Can you believe my publicist sent me a post captioned ‘LO looking mean af is my sexuality’?  He said I need to get back on-brand, and stop being MOODY.”

“Quill sent me that same post in my DMs, and I won’t lie,” she scratched the back of her neck, “you do make ‘mean’ look hot as hell.”

“Well alright then,” he said, sounding like he was smiling, “I’ll make sure to scowl more for your sake.”

Blowing out a breath, she ran her hand through her hair.  Uh…yes please.  Some of his angry looks (not aimed at her) made her want to get on her knees and call him ‘sir’ until her voice gave out on her.

Good lord, I am ACHING.

Yeahhhh, pull it together, hon.

She was on the verge of sobbing.  He wouldn’t be home for another two weeks, and that was so far away.  Was it too much to ask the universe for magical teleportation powers?  She hadn’t been this desperate to get her hands on him since…ever.  Even when they started dating and were in that thrilling build up to the main act stage, when just talking to him was enough to get her high, she hadn’t been this worked up over him.  Talk about a helluva drug.  

“I don’t know how the hell to make it through two more weeks, Sig,” he said, sounding so SAD suddenly.

Looking sideways out the window, she swallowed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.  She could feel a thick layer of darkness in his tone, the same tone of Starboy’s unnamed narrator.  She had always imagined his voice while reading it, but she’d never actually heard Loki speak like this.  It wasn’t just dark.  It was…what was the right word for it?  

Dangerous.

Downward-spiral dangerous.

Bottle of oxy dangerous.

Tears prickled her eyes as she continued staring out the window.  She wasn’t ready for it.  Not yet.  Not that she could ever be ready for hell, but she needed more time to heal from this awful year before she had enough strength to wrap her arms around him and kick and kick and kick to keep his unbearably heavy head above the water.

She’d known theoretically that it was a possibility- that eventually she would see this part of him.  He’d mentioned on and off how this worked, and she had done her own research because he was too important for her to not have a clue what to do for him.  The dark was always there, lurking, waiting in the shadows in the corner.  He sighed then, bringing her out of the “theoretical” darkness to come and instead back to the here and now.

“I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart,” he said, his voice straining a bit, as though he were stretching out after waking up. “And you don’t have to worry about it.  I’m fine.  I swear.  Just tired and ready to come home.”

Eyebrows pulling together, she chewed her lip. “It’s okay if you aren’t fine, love.”

“Sig.”

“Loki.” God, she loved the sound of his name.

“I’m FINE.”

She stared blankly at the window, wanting to question him further but knowing better than to prod him.

“Oh, you’re fine alright, forever dream boy,” she said, smiling when he chuckled.  Can’t go wrong with a joke. “I can’t wait to see you.  I’m losing my mind over here.”

---

~Back in Paris, Same call~

Loki hummed. “Thirty-six years ahead of you on that front.” 

“How did I know you would say that?”

“Not exactly a hard one to predict,” he said with a shrug.

“Don’t talk about HARD things.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

“Don’t say that either.”

Smiling wide, he threw his free hand up. “Alright, what am I allowed to say, picky girl?”

“Ummm… you may talk about the weather.”

“Ah,” he said, eyeing the window when the faint rumble of distant thunder echoed in his hotel room. “Well, it is going to be a wet one today.”

“Oh Loki, come ON.”

Shoulders shaking, he rolled onto his stomach and laughed into the pillow. “I can do that, but first I need you to tell me what you want me to come on.”  He couldn’t help it.  She’d said “oh Loki” loud enough to require pulling his phone away from his ear.

“Insufferable jerk.”

“You love me.”

“Oh hardcore.  Question- would you mind if I answer ‘did LO break up with his girlfriend’ on my Insta?  Or is that too-”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said, pushing off the bed and going to his bag to dig out a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, “I suggest you turn off comments though.”

“I was already going to turn off comments.”

He grinned just a touch. “Smart girl.”

She didn’t respond, and the silence persisted so long that he thought the call had dropped.

“You there?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

“Yes,” she answered after another beat, then sniffled- a sure sign to him that she was trying to not cry, “I’ve got to go get dressed for a depressingly early yoga class with Darce.”

Putting a hand over his eyes, he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t want to hang up.  Ever.  This was the most he’d missed her, and that was saying something.

“I love-”

“-love you.”

They’d said it at the same time, and he ended the call immediately.  He was on the verge of absolutely sobbing, and he didn’t particularly want her to hear it.  He stared at the wall, wondering how much it would cost to repair it if he put his fist through it.  Ten seconds later, he received a notification (the only one he hadn’t turned off) that she’d tagged him in a new post and captioned it “cannot wait to dance on a rooftop in NYC with him again #foreverdreamboy” along with a row of black and red hearts.  It was a throwback, one that he hadn’t seen before, but he recognized the date and location as being from Lewis’s 4th of July party last summer.

Lewis had put her phone in his face and said something about “Lo-Lo’s pretty pretty hair.”  Sig had laughed, and he had refused to smile.  Oh god, it was such a good picture- why hadn’t Sig ever sent it to him?  Hitting the reply icon, Loki typed out “2 weeks, 2 weeks, 2 weeks, 2 weeks” (multiple fire emojis included for emphasis) and hit the heart icon.

2 weeks indeed.  Hopefully, “dancing on a rooftop in NYC” was code for destroying his bed in his apartment.

Hopefully, she’ll let ME lead this time.

---

~2 weeks later, 6:50pm, August 3, 2019~

Loki:  Guess who just landed at JFK. 

Sigyn:  !!!😍😍😍😍!!!

Sigyn: When will you get home?

Loki: Probably about 9:00. I have to go through immigration and get an UberBLACK and all that. I will obviously let you know if that changes.

Sigyn: 2 more hours booooo.  I’ll be at your place. Unless you need some space to decompress?

Loki: Oh my god, no no NO.  PLEASE be there.

Sigyn: Down, boy.  See you soon.

Loki: Cannot wait.

At 9:20, with his carry-on backpack slung across one shoulder, he breezed into his building- oh thank god, FINALLY -and shook hands with his doorman as the driver removed his two checked suitcases from the trunk of the car and rolled them inside.  Giving a quick “thank you” wave, he grabbed the handles of his suitcases and rolled them to his elevator.  He took off his backpack to dig out his keys, his heart rate climbing faster than the lift taking him up to the top floor.  Keys between his teeth, the doors slid open, and his pounding heart stopped altogether.

Sigyn stood in the hall, bouncing on her feet and smiling brighter than the sun itself- a smile that he returned in full, his keys still hanging from his mouth.  He moved without realizing it.  One second he was in the elevator, and the next he collided with her in the hall, wrapping her in a rib-breaking hug.  They might have stood like that for a minute or an hour.  He didn’t know.  He didn’t care.

Pulling back just enough to slide her arms out from under his, she smoothed her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.  He bent down to her face, and suddenly it was New Years.  There wasn’t music or dancing or confetti or clinking glasses or deafening fireworks, yet somehow, he heard all of it.  Behind closed lids, his eyes rolled back, the blood rush and the chemical rush sending him sky high.

Hello, my name is Loki…

And I am a lovesick fool of a man.

Hands in her hair, unable to pull his mouth away from hers, he dragged her blindly down the hall, his back hitting his half open door with a solid thud that knocked the wind out of him.  Gasping like he’d been kicked, he blinked rapidly, and she abruptly turned and ran back down the hall, pushing the elevator button repeatedly before disappearing behind the doors.

Eyes blowing wide, he had a completely unfounded moment of panic.  Where was she going?  What was this?  How had he already screwed this up?  He eyed his surroundings, breathing hard.  Had he just hallucinated that reunion?  Was he still on the plane, dreaming inside a benzo-induced nap?  Out from behind the lift doors, he saw his suitcases speed across the floor and slam into the wall on the other side of the hall as though they had minds of their own.

Suitcase robots?

This must be the Xanax.

But then Sigyn came running out after the R2-D2 rejects, shouting something about him forgetting his “stupid heavy!” bags.  Ah, that’s what happened- she’d shoved them out.  That made far more sense than robots.

Hello, my name is Loki, and I am clinically insane.

She left them in the hall and ran back toward him, saying he could get them after.

“After?” he repeated, his lower stomach clenching as she neared him.

After?  After what?

DETAILS, PLEASE. AND BE SPECIFIC.

“After we fuck about thirty times,” she said, as though it was obvious, then quite literally crashed into his body, grabbed the back of his head, and yanked his gaping mouth down to hers.

Jesus. Christ.

She walked him backward into his apartment so quickly- so violently -that his backside hit the key table and knocked everything off, including her laptop bag, which they both tripped over then crumbled to the floor in a pile of limbs.  It could have been hilarious, but the last thing on his mind was comedy while his girl was tearing his clothes off.  Right there on the floor in front of his door, since apparently, they couldn’t handle waiting the ten seconds it would take to get to his bed, she begged him to lead.  She begged him to pull her hair harder, to kiss her harder, to fuck her harder.

When he woke up the next morning his back was covered in faint scratches.  This was the wake up after a bad dream.  He was back in NYC, in his bed, and Sig was lying next to him, grinning in her sleep.

August 2019 was beautiful.  He felt like he was falling in love all over again with her every day.  The falling continued into September…

Falling from cloud nine.

Falling from a cliff.

Falling from every pedestal she’d ever put him on.

He was one of those muted grey, dried up, dead leaves that had fallen onto the pavement outside his building.  And he dreaded the moment when she would replace him with something new and colorful in the spring, when the warmth of her sunlight brought someone else out of their endless winter grey.  She would give her new year to another man, and he would be grateful that he was dead already so he wouldn’t have to watch.

---

~6 weeks later, 12:17am, September 12, 2019~

Sigyn hated August.  It was too hot and too long, with too many tourists trying to catch that last bit of summer vacation before school started.  August made her wish the sun would just go take a walk and cool off.  In her opinion- the RIGHT opinion! -August sun needed to enroll in an anger management program.  It acted like it was pissed off at everyone, so it punished them with constant nagging and never-ending sick burns.  August sun just loved roasting Manhattan, turning it into a giant oven that wasn’t hot enough to kill you, but it did make you want to die.  It was atrocious.

Ugh, the concrete just baked all day, and the glass windows reflected that heat in all directions, and everyone was a sweaty mess by the time they got to work each morning.  See, this is why she kept baby wipes, deodorant, dry shampoo, and a hair dryer in her office.  Admittedly it was extremely odd, perhaps disturbing, but she even brought an extra pair of underwear in her bag every day because yes, it was that hot, and sweating in certain places was just- ugh.  Also, she was a bit paranoid about UTIs.  So, thank god, it was now September, right?  Nope.  Still hot as fuck.  God, it was pushing 90 today.  Not cool.

“NOT COOL?…hahahahaha…no ‘pologies for th’ puns!” she laughed, trying not to let the five-ish drinks of the night make her slur her words too much as she stepped out of an Uber outside of her building.

The driver gave her an utterly confused look. “What’s that, ma’am?”

“The puns, boy!” she answered, halting halfway through closing the back-right door and bending down to see him better.

“You’re face… sooooo funny,” she snorted.  Then she looked sideways, her lips pursing. “Oh, did I think or say that?”

“That my face is funny-looking?” His face did not look pleased.

Noooooooo, he’ll give me a shitty customer rating!!

“NO,” she waved a hand and pointed to his face, “nah nah nah you’ve a handsome face no worries.  You made a funny ex-press-ion,” she enunciated the word slowly, forcing the correct pronunciation, which was decidedly not easy.

Fuck- I am so drunk.

She bit her lip and winked, which was probably overkill, but he smiled wide, and she could see his face flush even at this late hour with no sun left to shine a light on his pink cheeks.  Good.  Mission accomplished.  That should earn her an extra star, hopefully.  Honestly, was there anything that flashing a sexy smile wouldn’t get her?

Hm… feminist credibility.

She shook her head a bit, annoyed with her head for providing that extremely on the nose finger-wagging answer, then she put her hand on her hip and smiled again.

“Must’ve made th’ joke in m’ head,” she said, gripping the door harder because the space around her felt like it was wobbling, and these heels were not helping.

He checked all around him, presumably making sure he wasn’t blocking traffic, then returned his eyes to her.  She noticed him looking her up and down, mostly focusing on her chest.  She looked down at herself, and rolled her eyes, adjusting her stance and her top.  Okay, maybe she shouldn’t bend over like this in public.

Oof, sooooo awkward.

“K, bye!” she smiled again and waved, slamming the door and hurrying to her building on somewhat shaky legs.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor, clinging to the railing because seeing straight was a task right now.  Was it midnight?  Maybe?   She didn’t care.  All that liquor would make tomorrow morning a bitch, but how else was she supposed to get through all that “functional fitness” blathering between Thor and Sam at the bar tonight?  Thank heaven Darcy was there to provide more interesting conversation.  Namely, graphic sex talk that had Hela cackling to the point of falling off a barstool.  Witnessing that was a riot (Loki would have died if he’d seen it) but that stupid barstool ended up sliding across the floor right smack into Sigyn which made her spill a full drink that she paid for with hard earned money!

Spilled drink aside, what a FUN night.  Only one thing would have made it better: Loki.  She’d wanted him to come along, but he’d said he needed to write, so…yeah okay.  Write write write.  Again.  Over and over.  So far, September was just ships passing in the night.  After spending all of August going at it like rabbits, this was killing her.  It felt like a legit crash from a high.  Maybe he hadn’t felt it, but for her, August felt like falling in love with him every day.  If it weren’t for the stifling summer heat, she would decree that August was her new favorite month from now on because, yes, her boyfriend’s hips were that convincing.

Fuck- she missed him so much now.  She didn’t have a good enough word to describe how much.  She needed to pick Loki’s “tricky” brain for a decent adverb.  For hell’s sake, he may as well be back in Europe for all the lack of time they spent together, and that is a thought that she should have kept to herself.  But no, she just had to say it out loud to his face before she left to go out tonight.  Then she’d gone full passive aggressive- “okay well if you can’t take a break from the NON-STOP writing as of late and spend a few measly hours with your supposed forever dream girl, that’s fine.”  He had given her the dirtiest look of the century- and not good dirty.

She’d played it off as an attempt at humor when he reminded her (through his teeth) that his first draft was due at the end of the month, and that he had not been able to write “one decent goddamn word!” during the tour and that if it hadn’t been for her “occupying every single thought and breath” in August, maybe he would be able to take a break and spend a “few measly hours with his forever dream girl!”  She probably should have interpreted that as him saying “I can’t get enough of you, and in August, I SHOWED that, but even though I still FEEL it, I HAVE to get this shit done, or HC will send a hitman after me, so please stop accusing me of ignoring you because that IS NOT WHAT I AM DOING.”

But she didn’t interpret it that way.  His actual words didn’t even register.  They were too loud and too angry, and she just didn’t have the energy to translate or rationalize the increasingly frequent yelling.  However, he did apologize for yelling at her, and it was without her prompting him to do so.  Said he was overwhelmed, that the anxiety was getting to him.  It never ceased to amaze her that he could just openly admit how stressed he was, and how it was affecting his emotions.  Loki had to be the most painfully self-aware man on the planet to be able to stop himself mid-rant and say he “felt like a piece of shit for taking that tone” with her. 

Stars above, he had the most effective puppy dog eyes ever, and that was 100% because she knew they were real.  He wasn’t faking what was happening behind those eyes.  His beautiful mind was full to the brim with endless words and stories and a million ways of putting them together, all of which he made look fucking effortless, but he didn’t need to use any of it if he just looked at her.

God help me- I am forever WRAPPED.

Still climbing the stairs, she blew out a breath, hiccupping so loud it actually echoed in the stairwell.  She giggled a little at the sound.  Loki would have laughed if he heard it too.  Come to think of it, he probably had heard it.  He was at her apartment earlier, so…maybe he was still here?  Hopefully.  No amount of being jealous of his time or being hurt by hearing him yell at her stood a chance at deterring her from wanting to shove her tongue into his mouth right now.  She bit her lip at the thought.  If she wasn’t already sweating, she would be now.

Lord, the THIRST.  Hm…must be mid-cycle.

“Man better be on m’couch where I left ‘m,” she mumbled, reaching up to wipe her fingers under her eyes.  No doubt her eyeliner was running most beautifully right now.  Nothing said “totally sober and classy” quite like dark mascara circles and red glassy eyes.  Swiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she groaned, yanking her keys out of her clutch as she walked to her door.

“Make it STAHP!” she yelled, stumbling inside and fumbling to get the key out the lock.  Once she was successful, she looked up and saw Loki on her couch, peering up at her from over his laptop.

“Yay!  He’s still here!” she squealed, and he visibly winced at her words.

“Make what stop?  Or in your version- STAHP?  If you’re referring to that shrill sound coming out of your mouth, I agree.  Please don’t do that again,” he deadpanned, smiling when she stuck her tongue out at him.

She let out a relieved breath.  He’d actually smiled at her- at the girl who was the source of his earlier annoyance.  His mood must have improved over the last few hours.  Thank heaven.  She walked toward him, careful not to trip in her strappy heels.

“Nooooo, my voice’s decibel jus’ righttt,” she hissed, putting extra emphasis on the ‘t’ as she tossed her keys and clutch on her coffee table and dropped heavily onto the couch next to him.

“So eloquent,” he returned his eyes to his screen, “does ‘my voice’s decibel jus right’ translate to ‘I’m not being loud’ or…”

“Pfft,” she blew her hair out of her face.

“Alright then,” he snorted, his fingers clacking away over the keys.  After a moment of silence, she piped up abruptly at a ‘NOT decibel jus right’ level that made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“I meant I want the hot to go away!” she flung her arms up.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he groaned, curling his arm around the back of her neck, and clamping his palm over her mouth while continuing to type with one hand. “Of course it’s hot.  It is still summer.  Now shush.  I’m working.”

She rolled her eyes.  Yes, obviously he was working.  She was drunk, not clueless.

She reached up to pull his hand away. “Diff’renz between Augus ‘n Septemmerrrr.  Pluz,” she raised her pitch, “all work ‘n nooooo playyyyy la la la la la.”

Well, you certainly SOUND clueless, girlie.

It’s SepTemBer, moron.

“From the sound of it, I think you played enough for the both of us at that bar tonight,” he said, fingers still clacking away.

“You should’ve cooooooome,” she whined, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Eyes still on his screen, he smirked. “Oh, I love coming.”

“Ummmm…me too, so lez do sex thingz,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

He stopped typing and looked at her sideways. “Your intelligence astounds me tonight.”

“I know, riiiiight?!” she laughed out loud, and he shook his head.

“Ridiculous girl,” he sighed, chuckling low as he started tapping the keys again. “I just have one paragraph left, and then we can do sex things.”

“Sounz fun,” she grinned, walking her fingers up his stomach. “Want know who appeared tonight?”

“If you want me to finish this paragraph, stop talking.”

“The beeeea-uuuuutiful, superrr scarrrrry, an’ shoxingly hilari-uz Doc-torrrrr Hela Odinnnnn-zun, PhD.”

He tore his eyes away from the screen immediately. “WHAT? And I missed it?!  My big sis who lives forever away in Boston and acts like I hung the moon randomly pops up, and I wasn’t even there!”

“Shhhhh!” she put her fingers over his mouth. “Now your decibel‘s not-” hiccup “-right.”

“Christ, Sig,” he said, squinting at her, “seriously…how much did you drink?”

“Nuff for th’ both of us ‘pparently,” she snorted, snatching his laptop away. “This’s too hot.  Killing sperm y’know.”

Now that got him to laugh out loud.  He threw his head back, turning red as he rubbed his eyes, which were now watering.  For a second, she was just so pleased to have made him cackle hard enough to make him cry.  She loved that he genuinely thought she was funny.  Making him laugh was one of her favorite pastimes.  But the longer she stared at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down with the vibrations from his laughter, her eyes glazed over.

Best. Neck. Ever.

“Is poss’ble t’ be ‘tracted to necks more than th’ owners ‘f said necks?” she slurred, leaning over to set his MacBook on her coffee table.

“I feel like I am trying to interpret what my 3-year-old nephew is saying.  No actually,” he held up a finger as she slung her thigh over his legs and moved up to straddle him, “you are even less comprehensible.  This reminds me of when he was two.  It sounded like ‘ung-le Lo-gi max zor-eez’ which according to Hela meant ‘Uncle Loki makes stories’ and I think that is a display of intelligence beyond yours at the moment.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

“You taste like vodka,” he said, licking his lips before leaning back in to catch her lips between his.  Running his hands from her bare knees up her smooth thighs, he groaned and stood up with her still wrapped around him.

“Couch’s too small,” he explained, even though she hadn’t asked, when he turned to sit on the bed, keeping her on top of him.  He leaned in to kiss her neck under her ear, and her head fell back.

Sliding her hand up his spine, she wrapped her fingers around the back-underside curve of his head.  She leaned forward again, breathing hard against his mouth.

“I miss this.  I miss you,” she whispered, biting her lip and moaning as he rocked up into her and slipped his thumbs underneath the hemline of the black and white striped suit-shorts she’d worn to work.  God, she needed to get his joggers off now.

“We do this almost every day, Sig,” he hissed, eyes closed tightly as her fingers tangled in his hair.  He released the tension in his neck, letting his head fall back into her hands.

“Thaz true,” she said, trailing her mouth up the tendons in his neck, stopping once she reached the hinge of the sharpest, sexiest jaw ever. “Still not good ’nuff.”

“Don’t start this again,” he groaned, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip, letting her drag his black t-shirt over his head and kiss down his chest.  She slid back a little, dropping to her knees on the ground at the edge of her bed.

“I can feel it right now- you’re stug ‘n your ‘head, Starboy,” she mumbled, her face just below his navel.  Stars above, his skin tasted so good.

“So fucking stressed about book three, Sig,” he said, breathing hard as her mouth reached the top of his joggers.

“You must stop pressuring me like this…oh fuck-” he swallowed, watching her dark eyes look up at him from under her brow as she hooked her fingers into the sides of the waistband.

He lifted his hips, and as she slid them down, he put his hand on the back of her head.  She smirked up at him, batting her long lashes, the heavy black mascara thick enough to barely obstruct her view of his open mouth and slight jutting out of his chin.  He was looking at her, but he wasn’t.

“Still far up in the clou-” she stopped, eyes rolling at the slurred mess of non-words, then licked her teeth and tried again, carefully enunciating “-in… the… clouDS.”

Saying nothing, he blinked at her.  It was such a blank, dead-eyed, unfeeling stare- a visual manifestation of the phrase ‘silent as the grave’.  And speaking of graves, she had just dug her own.  Releasing his hold on her neck, he bent down and grabbed his joggers, yanking them up his legs as he stood back up.

Heart sinking, stomach twisting, hands shaking, she watched him look around for his shirt.

“Loki, I didn’t…I’m s-”

“I’m going to sleep at my place tonight,” he spoke flatly, cutting her off as he grabbed his shirt once he spotted it.

Her eyes blew wide, and not only her hands, but her entire body started shaking.  Maybe her blood sugar was crashing from the alcohol.  Maybe she was dehydrated.  Or maybe she was just terrified of him walking out her door and not coming back.

“Clearly my actual bodily presence here with you will not suffice,” he said, lacing up his gleaming white, un-scuffed, Adidas court sneakers, “and since that is all I am able to give to you for perfectly acceptable reasons that I have already explained several times, I am going home so as to spare you from feeling like I am half-assing sex things with you.  You’re piss drunk anyway, and I don’t want to fuck if you aren’t all there-” he tapped his temple “-either.”

Glaring at her, he stood up, grabbed his MacBook, shoved it in his bag, and slung the thing over his shoulder.  Eyes on the floor, she reached up to wipe away the teardrops clinging to her lashes as her door swung open and slammed again, his footsteps on the other side of the wall disappearing down the stairs.  Her stomach turned over, the wretched sensation washing over her so abruptly that she barely had time to get to her commode.

She flushed away the remnants and yanked a good bit of toilet paper off the roll to clean herself up.  She flushed those too and closed the lid.  Heaving sobs shook her body, and she laid her head on her arms.  Loki hadn’t even given her a courteous ‘I’ll text you when I get there’ or ‘I’ll call you tomorrow’ or anything comforting at all.

This was…this was not good.  Things were falling apart.  The center was not holding.  Their perfect August binary star orbit was losing balance, spinning out of control and too close into a September death spiral.  She should have known.  She should have fucking known Loki would break her heart eventually.  She never should have let her guard down.  God, no one should allow themselves to fall in this deep with another person.  Ever.  

Nothing lasts forever.  She was not his forever dream girl.  She was just a dopamine-kick with a two year expiration date used to write a bestselling book, wasn’t she.  That’s why he was so goddamn frustrated lately.  His muse wasn’t giving him the rush anymore.  His tolerance was too high now.  That’s all she’d been- a helluva drug.  For a time.  Now she wasn’t even that.  She was cut with 90% flour- subpar shit that wouldn’t even give a first-time user a buzz.  Sinking to the cold floor tiles, she curled in on herself and cried until she fell asleep. 

NEW YEAR SAME HABIT CONTINUES IN CHAPTER ELEVEN: DO NOT GO GENTLY (RUN WEST, BOY)

Visit the New Year Same Habit main page HERE.

Chapter links: ¹ We’re Just Strangers ² Hello, My Name is Loki ³ A Helluva Drug ⁴ Written in the Dying Stars ⁵ This Helen of Troy (Worth Drowning For) ⁶ STARBOY INTERLUDE ⁷ Live Fast, Die Right (Crashing Hard) ⁸ It’s Called “Being Present” (Hit the Gas) ⁹ Burn it to the Ground, Sig. (Just Don’t Burn Me) ¹⁰ Hotel Hell, Closing Bell ¹¹ Do Not Go Gently (Run West, Boy) ¹² Happy New Year, Love.

CHAPTER TEN THEME SONGS:

“Never Let You“ by Kiiara (for Loki)

“Lie“ by Sasha Sloan (for Sig)

What Readers Have Said

About CH 10 “Hotel Hell, Closing Bell”

“Oh Jen, This is such a great chapter, but such a bad ending!! I hate it when they fight, but Sigyn shouldn’t have to be drunk, Loki obvious hates that, with good reason may I add. Also, the photos of Tom Hiddleston as Loki on his Instagram are beautiful, such a handsome man!!! I love this story so much. I’ll be so sad when it’s over.”

-Maïté, on CH 10 “Hotel Hell, Closing Bell” (AO3)

“Their pain is truly heart wrenching.”

-Ferbette, on CH 10 “Hotel Hell, Closing Bell” (AO3)