A/N: One of my followers on Tumblr (thefangirl1) requested a super angsty Frosthawk fic, so here you are! Sorry if they seem a little OOC; this is my first Frosthawk fic. And if Loki's a bit OOC, it's because he's pretty psychologically messed up here. Rated M only because of attempted suicide.

For the first time in a long while, Loki was completely, utterly alone.

Sure, there were others bustling past on the street, but they were normal. They had a home and a family and people who loved them, even if they might not always realize it. Loki, on the other hand, had no one. Not anymore, that is.

Pushing past those in his way, Loki practically sprinted through the large city, running as far as he could from Avengers Tower. Without a coat, he was practically drenched by the dreary rain, and the fact that every step he took splashed water up on his legs hardly helped the matter. It had run across his mind that Loki could simply teleport far away, but he felt like he needed this. Needed to feel the distance being put between him and the mess that used to be his life.

As he shoved his way through the pedestrians, the words of the argument he had just had with Clint whirled in his mind, making his heart ache. As it started with only a heated debate, Loki couldn't even remember what it had been about at first. It had quickly escalated into a shouting match, and if Loki hadn't run off, he was sure that Tony would have arrived soon to intervene. One line in particular that Clint had spouted off in anger rippled through his mind and left tears wetting his cheeks along with the rain:

"Stop acting like such a monster!"

After Clint had bellowed that, Loki had rushed out of the Tower, thinking only of how he needed to get away. Now, he was weaving his way through the crowded streets of New York, trying to keep his tears from prompting a citizen into stopping him to make sure he was okay.

Finally, Loki started to slow down, until he veered off into a deserted alley. Suddenly devoid of energy, he dropped to his knees on the filthy concrete. Hunched over and finally free of any prying eyes, the god allowed heart-wrenching sobs to rack his body. He remembered painfully how well his relationship with Clint had gone in the beginning. After Odin had banished him to Midgard as punishment for his crimes, he had been bitter and resentful of the Avengers, who housed him. The only one he felt he could trust was Clint, who eventually helped Loki open up and heal. After about a year, during which he participated in various community service activities, Odin had returned Loki's magic, feeling that he had repented. Whole once again, Loki was able to start working with the Avengers for SHIELD, completely putting his villain days behind him. SHIELD found him quite helpful, especially towards the beginning of his employment when not everyone knew of his change of heart and he was able to infiltrate enemy headquarters, pretending to want to ally himself with them.

As Clint and he started to spend more time together, they grew closer and more intimate in their relationship. Finally, Loki had asked Clint on a date and they started officially dating. That was about a year ago.

Over the past couple of months, Loki had been painfully aware of distance growing between Clint and him. Perhaps it was the fact that they no longer had similar missions and spent less time together. Perhaps they were just never meant to be. No matter the reason, it had been tearing Loki apart.

Then, they had the fight. And Loki had run away. Like I do from everything, he thought with furious grief. This is just like before, on the Bifrost. I never stand and fight, like Thor. I'm nothing but weak.

As he spiraled farther into his self-deprecating thoughts, Loki's hands started to shake. Clint was right, I'm a monster and I'm nothing. I'm less than nothing, he corrected himself. I'm a burden on everyone around me. Clint hates me and no one else likes me.

With a twist of his hand, he materialized a pistol, an old model he remembered seeing in a museum on one of his and Clint's dates. Hand still shaking, but filled with frightened determination, Loki lifted the gun to his temple and clicked the safety off. He let out a deep breath, and steeled himself, tears still mixing with the rain flowing down his face.



"Loki!" A body lunged at him, and he felt a hand wrestle the pistol from his unsteady fingers. Letting out a cry of outrage, Loki hit weakly at the strong arms that enveloped him and kept him from getting at the gun.

"Clint," he sobbed. "Let me go."

"No, Loki," the man replied, anguished. "I'm so sorry, this is entirely my fault. I never meant to call you that, I wasn't thinking!"

"But you were right, Clint," Loki brokenly replied. "I am monster and a murderer and no matter what I do, it will never make up for that."

"Loki, what you've done in the past doesn't define you. Sure, you've done some bad things, but you're working for the good guys this time. You are not a monster, Loki," he insisted.

"I didn't just do 'some bad things'. I tried to take over the world, killed hundreds of people, and attempted to destroy and entire planet. I'm a monster, and I understand why you don't love me."

Clint's eyes widened in surprise. "You think I don't love you? Loki, you're the best thing to ever happen to me. I couldn't imagine my life without you."

Shaking his head, Loki harshly replied, "I'm the god of lies, I can tell when you aren't telling the truth."

"Well, apparently you can't because I'm not lying. Loki, I love you."

Sniffing, Loki looked up into the archer's eyes. "Really?" he asked hesitantly.

Clint smiled sadly. "Yes. I promise, Loki. You and I will get through this." He pulled the quivering god into a tighter embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered soothingly, running his fingers through his lover's long, soaked hair. "Together."