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There's a moment, after each war, where Thor feels like this time the sun will not come up. Yet it always does.
When everyone has gone to sleep or gone home, he roams the streets to see the shops being opened, sits on the benches of parks to watch the kids and their parents laugh, he goes to the coast just to make sure he sees the stars and the moon, to make sure the world keeps on turning. This time, when he reaches a stop with veiw of the waves, he's not alone.
Mobius and Thor sit on top of the hill by the water. They watch the boats, yats, surfers and swimers come and go in that particular and fake sense of calmness after days and days of ruthless storm, where you feel like you should be at peace, but you are really not.
Mobius' eye catches on one of the jet skis and soon he sees them all. He acknowledges their size, their colour, brand, speed and even the little things only a fanatic or a salesman would see. A green one, looking little from afar cuts through the water like a knife and disappears. He wishes he could be on it, driving in such a freeing and fulfilling way. He comes to terms with the fact that he hasn't wished for anything as simple in God-knows how long.
His mind, as it usually does, drifts to Loki. But of course, it doesn't take the emerald colour or the name 'God' for his thoughts to be flooded by dark hair and green eyes, it never does. He wonders whether he ever really stops thinking about him or if he justs shoves him to the back of his memory box when he's not activly saying his name aloud; an ever-present figure, absent in his life.
"It's funny, I used to sell those things." Thor turns to him then, curiously. "The jet skis, I mean. For years too, it has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I was a little kid and already rambling on about them."
This makes the God smile. "I see why you would. They seem entretaining, almost like crossing the bifrost only... horizontally."
A small chuckle escapes Mobius' mouth. 'He has a habit of trying to empathize with everyone over the smallest of things. Even when he disagrees with you, you can see he understands you somehow. It's infuriating'. Loki had said to him once, sometime, somewhere; where time and place existed just for them.
He has to laugh at his own train of thought. There he is again.
"I had a shop back in the States. Before, you know... everything went down. I'm guessing that seeing one again should immediately take me back there, to my time fixing and driving them. Or, you know, the thousands of magazines I read about them while I worked at the TVA." He lets out a sigh. "Now... well... I think about my final days up there. Loki, Sylvie, OB, Kang, the destruction of the timeline, bla, bla, bla... Mostly about Loki." He nods, almost as if he's coming to terms with it. "And jet skis weren't even involved in all that. Oh, how the mind works." He emphasizes, almost dramatically.
He's not looking his way to see the slight tilt of the blond man's head, he's fixated on the green machine that has now come back to land.
"They remind you of my brother?" Thor says, not at all judgingly; in wonder, in interest.
Mobius makes a mayor decision then, to be honest.
"Everything reminds me of your brother. The jet skis, the trees, pie, the rain, the sea, the ground, the air. Everything has his imprint now. All of it has the trace of his touch, his protection." He takes a moment then, not for his companion but for himself. "I'm almost jealous."
"Of what?"
"Of everything."
Thor feels suddenly heavier with a strange sadness. He sees the tragedy of his brother in a different light. For a time he had felt sorrow over the thought that Loki had died truly believing nobody cared for him. Now however, he realizes somebody loved him loudly, unreservedly. His brother had loved and been loved and then he had lost it all.
He knew his Loki, his god of mischief. He'd always craved the throne, thinking power would grant him company... love. Isn't it truly heroic? Isn't it the plot of stories and legends to learn your lesson right on time to know you must let it go?
He hoped Loki wasn't listening. For he knew how devastatingly difficult it must be for him to see them both there, on the hill; to have such care and worship so close to touch, yet having his hands occupied with the weight of the universe, the literal weight of it all.