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Thor knew there was something wrong with him when his brother started dying his hair black.
Loki was 15 and Thor 17, and while everyone was criticizing Loki for his dark and brooding appearance, Thor couldn’t stop noticing how it highlighted his brother‘s high cheekbones, how his features appeared to be even more delicate, how well it suited his aristocratic, haughty expression.
Of course, all the critique Loki got only led to him starting to use makeup to look even more edgy because if there was something he excelled in, it was doing the exact opposite of what he’d been told, just out of spite.
Their mother didn’t treat Loki any differently, but their father didn’t shy away from airing his immense dislike for this “ridiculous and embarrassing attire“, blind and uncaring to the way tears gathered in Loki’s eyes every time he felt resented and unloved.
The kids at school either made fun of him, stayed away from him completely, or were as edgy as himself.
And Thor? Thor couldn’t stop noticing how beautifully his brother’s emerald eyes sparkled, how intense they were when framed with this pitch black eyeliner, how long his lashes were with mascara applied, and he knew there was something very wrong with him.
As Loki got older, he did so with an enchanting curiosity and a terrifying tendency to cause all sorts of mischief.
There were yelling matches at home, serious conversations with the principal at school, and even one incident with the police that led to Loki having to do community service to avoid juvenile hall.
Their mother was disappointed, their father enraged, the kids at school spoke about it like it was the greatest scandal humanity had ever seen, in a mixture of horror and awe.
Thor was angry, too, of course, and disappointed. But most of all, he worried.
He worried so much that he started always having his phone turned on full volume in case he was needed, he even spent some hours of community service at Loki’s side. He started texting his brother at least once a day, sometimes more, greatly appreciating the latter’s dry humor and wittiness. He learned about Loki’s interests, his favorite books and their content, his music taste, his opinions on this and that - and how intelligent and thoughtful his brother truly was -, his dreams for the future.
When Loki introduced Thor to his friends, Thor made sure that they treated his brother well and had no bad influence on him. He tried to be subtle about it, but more than once he and Loki had a big fight because of it.
All in all: Thor slowly understood that Loki, as smart and eloquent as he was, needed an anchor in his life to keep him grounded. Thor wanted to be that anchor. That was what everyone would do for their brother. Be somebody to rely on.
To be perfectly honest, even then, Thor knew there was something wrong with him.
When Loki was in his last years of highschool and Thor away for college, this unsettling knowledge intensified immensely.
Every time he got a message from Loki, and be it only a photo of the book his brother was currently reading, his heart jumped with happiness, and Thor couldn’t help his radiant smile at the times Loki burst into his dorm room unannounced and with way too many bags to stay over for the weekend.
Thor knew there was something wrong with him when he lay awake late at night and unsuccessfully tried to shut up his brain, tried to push away the memories of the way the room lit up when Loki laughed, how pleasant and deep his voice had gotten after it had broken, how good his perfume smelled. It didn’t help that it was ingrained into his cushion and bedsheets because Loki‘d just left after spending the weekend with Thor, that they had shared a bed like they always did when his brother stayed over. Thor didn’t mind that in the slightest, quite the opposite, actually, and he knew there was something very wrong with him.
Over time, more than one shocking revelation tried to tear apart what Thor had arduously built, but miraculously, their bond lasted. Maybe not that miraculously because at one point, Thor realized that Loki, volatile, capricious, troublemaking Loki, cared as much for their relationship as Thor did.
From then on, it got easier. So much easier. Too easy.
Thor knew there was something fundamentally wrong with him when he closed his eyes to enjoy Loki‘s light touches on his skin, the soft press of Loki’s mouth to his jaw, the sensation of Loki‘s hair - still black as a raven‘s feathers - tickling his naked chest.
He pulled his brother closer, sprawled half on top of him, and hummed contently.
This was all so very wrong. Had been from the beginning.
But Thor couldn’t care less.