Work Text:
“Loki hasn’t been eating.”
Those were Frigga’s words to Thor the night previous, after he had been silently ushered into her chambers to speak privately.
She said it with such heartbreak, such guilt, that it sent Thor reeling for several moments before he finally sat down and comforted her. When he retired to bed that night, he hardly slept, preoccupied instead with endless inner strife.
It was a cold morning and Thor was wavering hesitantly outside the large wooden door to Loki’s quarters, a steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable soup in hand. Not exactly a traditional breakfast, but Thor figured it might be easier for him.
“Loki?” Thor called out, knocking gently.
He was met with several moments of silence from the other side, and he almost surrendered to the discouraging voice in his head urging him to desist, but then he heard Loki’s voice echo from inside the room.
“Enter, brother.”
The door creaked mightily as Thor pushed it slowly open, giving view to Loki’s quarters, tidied to perfection as always. Loki was sitting atop his bed, in lounge garb, legs crossed and reading a book.
He glanced up at Thor and eyed the bowl of soup in his hand with a carefully neutral face.
“I thought you might be hungry,” Thor said, his heart fluttering nervously.
“I’ve already eaten,” Loki said coolly. “What do you want?”
“No,” Thor said forcefully, feeling a jab of annoyance, “you have not eaten.”
“How would you know?” Loki said, squaring his jaw defensively.
“Mother told me, Loki,” Thor said.
Loki’s eyebrows raised in poorly-hidden surprise, his eyes widening in what Thor apprehensively realized as fear. Thor pressed his lips tight and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“She told me that your plates have been returning untouched to the kitchens,” he said.
Loki’s eye twitched as his features morphed into irritation, but Thor didn’t think it was directed towards him. He watched as Loki clenched and unclenched his jaw several times, fingernails digging into the book in his hands, blinking rapidly.
Thor took a step closer to him. “Why do you refuse your meals, brother?”
“It is nothing your great wits could understand, Thor,” Loki said.
“Give me a chance,” Thor said. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need help,” Loki snarled, slamming his book shut with a loud thud, “and certainly not from you.”
Thor huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Will you try, at least?”
When Loki said nothing, Thor stepped to the side of the bed and took Loki’s hand into his own. The fingers under his own were bony, frail and thin. He peered down at Loki’s hand, finding that it was visibly as it had always looked. Thor’s stomach twisted and he sighed, deflating mournfully.
“Loki, cease your magic,” he said.
Loki spared Thor a harsh glance, searching his face and preparing to retort, then ultimately decided against it, returning his gaze sullenly down at his lap. He waved his hand and the glamor dropped in a brilliant green shimmer.
Thor’s chest tightened at the true sight of Loki, his skin pale and sunken, the hollows of his cheeks deeper than he had ever seen them, collarbones protruding sharply where they were visible under his garments.
Loki’s lip curled up to bare his teeth. “Is this what you wanted to see?”
“Brother…” Thor said, stoking his thumb over the thin skin of Loki’s knuckles, “why?”
“I already told you,” Loki said. “You wouldn't understand.”
“And what of mother?” Thor said. “Would she understand, or do you wish to push everyone away so that you can sulk and— and starve yourself—“
“Enough, Thor!” Loki said, nostrils flaring.
Thor’s jaw shut with a click of his teeth. Loki breathed heavily through his nose, staring forwards at the far wall and seemingly battling within his own mind. He met Thor’s eyes and scowled.
“You’ve said enough,” Loki said. “Leave me.”
Thor looked up at the ceiling and breathed carefully through his nose. A pox on your stubbornness, he thought. He placed the bowl of warm soup down on Loki’s bedside table.
“As you wish,” Thor said. “Just— promise me that you’ll at least attempt to eat, alright?”
“Do not come barging into my rooms again,” Loki said, and opened the book that he had previously been reading.
“We're here for you,” Thor said, striding towards the open door. “All of us.”
He gave Loki’s perturbed face one last glance before turning around and pulling the huge door shut behind him.
Thor let out a long sigh and tried to ignore the pit of dread settling deep into his stomach.
Plagued by unease throughout the entire morning, Thor couldn’t quite help himself from returning to Loki’s door, pacing outside of it, trying to convince himself to simply give his brother the space he wished for.
He already knew Loki would tell him off upon knocking, but Thor’s guilt would eat him alive otherwise. He’d just be checking to see if Loki had eaten, yes. And if he hadn’t?
Thor couldn’t live with himself if he let his brother starve and waste away without intervention.
He knocked on the door firmly.
“It’s me again,” Thor said. “I’m, uh… I wanted to check on you.”
His words echoed off the stone walls and eventually lapsed into silence. Thor pursed his lips and pressed his ear to the door.
“Loki?” he said.
It was silent for several more moments before Thor heard something. Coughing, he realized, strenuous and reverberating from behind the door.
“Loki?!” Thor called out again. He tried the handle and was surprised to find that it turned without resistance. “I’m coming in.”’
He opened the giant door and peered warily around the room, finding the immediate quarters empty. The book that Loki had been reading laid open on his bedside table, along with the bowl of soup, half empty.
Thor noted the success in his mind, spinning around on his heels to scan the room once more. He stood there awkwardly, but before long, more coughing echoed through the room, clearer, coming from behind the cracked door of Loki’s en-suite bathroom.
With rising concern, he creeped over to the door and slowly pushed it open, revealing the half-lit bathroom.
His eyes immediately found Loki, on his knees, hunched over the toilet, with two fingers down his throat.
Thor’s heart plummeted to his feet, a cold wave of horror washing over his spine.
“What are you doing?” he said lowly.
Loki slowly removed his fingers from his mouth, huffing agitatedly, then tilted his head up and stared forwards. “Thor, what did I tell you about barging into my rooms?”
“You’re…” Thor said, trailing off, unable to find the courage to continue his sentence.
“Making myself sick?” Loki said. “Is that too much for you to handle, oh great warrior?”
“Stop it, brother,” Thor said.
“No,” Loki said. “You have no right to tell me to stop.”
“Are you not suffering?” Thor said. “Does making yourself ill satisfy you in some twisted way?”
“It’s not suffering if I choose it,” Loki said.
“Why in all the Nine would you choose this?” Thor said, gesticulating angrily. “Why would you choose to ruin yourself in such a manner?”
“Why not?” Loki hissed sarcastically.
“Tell me!” Thor yelled.
“It is weakness!” Loki said finally, meeting Thor’s eyes, his face twisted in irritation. He huffed heavily. “This is… this is the only way I know how to combat it.”
Thor opened his mouth then closed it, searching carefully for his next words. Loki was right, he didn’t understand, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help his brother.
“Why must you combat it?” Thor said softly. “Do you think of vulnerability as being undesirable?”
“You are not about to be crowned king because you’re weak,” Loki said defeatedly, hanging his head.
Thor’s eyebrows climbed in shock, then furrowed. He stared at Loki, hunched over and thin, ruining himself because he did not believe…
“Even a great warrior such as myself experiences vulnerability,” Thor said, placing a hand on Loki’s back. “What makes me so different from you?”
Loki stayed silent for several moments and sniffled. “You can control it,” he said quietly.
Ah, Thor thought, his stomach twisting, so that’s it. He rubbed Loki’s back soothingly, up and down the too-sharp knobs of his spine.
“That’s not true,” Thor said. “I manage it, I don’t control it.”
Loki sucked in a sharp breath. “Then why is it so hard for me?” he said, voice choked. “Why is it so— suffocating?”
“Loki…” Thor said.
He watched awkwardly as Loki barked out a harsh sob, covering his mouth with his hand in a useless attempt to stifle his crying.
Another sob wrenched from his throat, his face twisted in misery, rocking forwards as he broke down in front of Thor’s very eyes.
“I do not wish for this,” Loki said between cries. “I’m tired of it.”
Thor sighed, his heart aching. “Come here, brother.”
Loki turned towards him, his slim face red around the edges and stained with tears. Thor helped him climb to his feet and was immediately met with a tight embrace. He returned the gesture, rubbing comforting swaths across Loki’s back, cradling his head with his other hand.
The two of them stood there in the silence of the afternoon as Loki sobbed into the crook of Thor’s neck, who whispered encouraging sweet nothings to him.
Thor had to adjust his grip when Loki’s legs gave out, his crying ebbing while he breathed through the dizzy spell. Thor’s chest grew tight with anxious empathy as he slowly lowered both himself and Loki to the ground.
He sat there while Loki declined from his breakdown, sniffing feebly and wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms.
“We want to help you,” Thor said when the silence grew too long. “Mother has been worried sick.”
“You cannot fix this,” Loki said.
Thor nodded slowly. “I may not be able to, but you can,” he said.
Loki swiveled his head towards him, searching his face in contemplative uncertainty.
“You tried already, that is progress nonetheless, however little,” Thor continued. “I believe in you, we all do.”
Loki’s eyes filled with tears anew, his lip quivering. Thor slipped Loki’s hand into his own, and placed his other one atop both of them.
“I love you, Loki,” Thor said, bringing up their conjoined hands to press a kiss to them.
Loki inhaled deeply and sighed, nodding slowly.
The pair of them sat together, on the cold floor of the bathroom, unwoven and raw against the coarse face of courage.