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[lilaclaufeyson]

"this too shall pass" well can it fucking get on with it

[lilaclaufeyson]

Tolerate It

trigger warnings: anger? I tried to make this gender neutral bc there’s no description of the reader. angst, a bit of anxiety idk lol thanks for reading

You had planned this dinner out for weeks. Every detail was planned out, down to the color of the napkins. It was your second anniversary, and you were delusional enough to believe he could propose. You had taken the time to research Asgaridian dinner traditions and superstitions. You had gone out and bought gold plates, cups, and silverware. You wanted everything to be perfect for him. You dressed in your best green attire.

You took hours, days even to prepare dinner and dessert. The candles you bought were his favorite scent, and were placed strategically around the dining room to provide just enough ambient lighting. Everything was set and ready. Everything was perfect. And so you sat, waiting at your end of the table, waiting. Every second felt like eons, dripping past as slow as honey.

Half an hour passed similarly before Loki passed through the front door of your New York City flat. He was dressed in his usual black two-piece suit. You shot up immediately, smiling wide as you made your way to see him. He was toeing off his shoes to the shoe rack you kept by the door. The front door opened to the living room, and then an archway to your dining room as well as your bedroom on the other side. He only looked up as your arms wrapped around him, beaming. He glanced at you, not returning your smile for more than a second.

“Welcome home, don’t you look handsome.” You coo at him. He moved away from you to move towards the dining room. He sighed.

“What have you cooked tonight?” He asked, and paused before continuing, “I surely hope it is still warm. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” He sat down then at the opposite end of the table. You hurried over, unveiling the dishes in the center of the table in lieu of an answer. You were beaming, a nervously excited smile graced your face.

“Only some of your favorites, from home. I hope they are good.” You knock into the corner of the table on your way back to your seat. You glance up at him to notice the irritated crease form between his eyebrows briefly. He slowly starts to put some food on his plate, silent the whole time. The anxiety of cooking the foreign food mixed with his silence is eating you alive. He hadn’t even realized you were dressed up yet. You figured he had had a hard day at Stark Industries.

You get a plate only after he has started eating. It is quiet for a couple minutes, save for the clink of silverware hitting your plates. You are eating slowly, the cuisine is good enough for you, but not your favorite cup of tea. The silence was killing you, so you spoke up.

“How was your day?” Your voice felt too quiet in the silence, cascading through the air like a leaf in autumn.

“Twas fine. Passed just as any other day.” He replied, his tone short. It had taken him a moment to respond because he finished chewing first. You just nodded in response. He did not seem like talking. You pushed what was left of your meal around your plate, your appetite slowly dwindling. Did he not even remember what day it was? A handful of quiet moments pass before you notice he is starting to get up. He left his napkin by his plate. As he passes by you to get to the bedroom, he kisses the top of your head.

After he leaves, you feel the tension uncoil from your spine. You sagged in the chair like a rag doll. A deep breath in and out occurred before you got up to clean up. You binned up all of the leftovers before hand washing each dish. You dried them after you were finished and put them back in the cabinet you allotted for them. You put the untouched dessert in the fridge. Lastly, you blew all of the candles out. You sat back down in the dining room, elbows on the table and head in your hands.

You do not know how much time passed, but Loki was soon back out of the bedroom, freshly showered. You jumped a little, spooking out of your stupor. He sat down on the couch, glancing at you with some philosophy book in his grasp. The watch on his wrist paired with the plain white t-shirt, sweatpants, and his black wet hair pushed back was devilishly handsome. You sighed, thinking about how you used to be able to curl up next to him while he read on the couch, laughing about his boring reading preferences.

“What are you all dressed up for, darling?” He had just opened the book, looking away from you. Your breath caught in your throat, a few tears slipping right down your face almost instantly. No sounds left your body, but you turned to look at him. How dare he pair that sweet endearment with such harsh words. You just looked at him while tears continued down your face.

His book slammed shut after your continued silence. “Now what could you ever be crying about? You had the day off,” He scoffed, mumbling something. You gulped, wiping your face.

“You don’t remember what today is, do you?” You asked, voice unwavering despite the tears. The sadness in your veins was being replaced with anger. He furrowed his brows at you.

“It is only Tuesday. Have I missed something?” He asked, his voice slowly filling with anger. You huffed, standing from where you were previously sitting. “It is only Tuesday?” You hiss, arms crossing over your chest. “Only Tuesday? It is only our second anniversary!” You raised your voice, but not quite to a yell. He seemed to think, but only for a second before he also stood.

“Two years is almost nothing to a God, (y/n). I have roamed this very universe for hundreds of years!” His hands flew wildly in frustration. All emotion leaves your body to refill with dread before he continues, “You try doing as I do every day and remembering what day of the week it even is!” His voice is louder than yours, you realize. He was always the one who remembered the anniversary of your first kiss or the day you moved in together. Your breath seemed to escape your lungs all in one go.

“Nothing to a God,” You mumble, “alright, I must go. I think we need to spend some time apart, Loki. I’ll be back tomorrow to pack my things.” You back up, heading towards the bedroom to pack some things. You realize he doesn't try to stop you. How could he not even realize when he was wrong?

You called your friend, asking if you could stay the night. As you carried your bag to the living room and towards the front door, you glanced back at Loki. Savagely, Loki was sitting back down on the couch, reading like nothing had happened between you two mere minutes before.

[lilaclaufeyson]

just finished In The Lives Of Puppets