A/N Long story short, my muse has been a pain in the butt and now suddenly it made me write this. So if you have any complains, address her, please. Basically, Loki feels (we can never have enough of those), short drabble in my infamous writing style (where the only person who can understand what's written is me... in most cases) and still not owning anything.

Do I Win Now, Brother?

"Don't try to fix me," he whispered into the night. His eyes- sparking green and defeated, fell onto the figure before him. The moonlight was bright and it hurt his eyes, the way it reflected in Thor's own orbs. The mighty god, the one who was always right, the brave one, the perfect one. The loved one.

He had used to believe they are two parts of a whole. Contrasting, contradicting, but always identical. After all, everyone had a good side and bad side but they were still the same person. Romantic, his thoughts had been, foolish. If Thor was white, then Loki was dark; if his golden brother was the sun, then he was the moon.

But it wasn't that simple, it rarely was. Now when he thought about it he was but a shadow.

"Loki," his brother breathed out. His voice was almost... sad. Loki felt hands on his chest, on his stomach, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. It was good. Warm. Unreal. He hadn't been touched for so long, he was surely imagining it. Only the prison walls could caress him now.

The creature of darkness, unable to live without the light.

"For I am hardly broken."

He tried to smile, yet the shiver suddenly coursing through his body stopped him. He was cold. So, so cold.

"Tell me, Thor, how do Jotuns bleed?"

The twist of his lips came instinctively now.

The man before him shook his head violently, blue eyes clouding and closing when it was all too much. Strange but it was almost as if the hands on Loki's stomach were pressing even harder, a certain... urgency behind their movement.

His grimace morphed into a smile. A sincere one, if you didn't know him.

It had been dark for so long that now, when it happened again he failed to notice at first. The world surrounded him, colours dull and plain and the familiar coldness that made him shake and want to cry.

Monsters aren't allowed to cry. They live only to torment. To disgust. And when they have served their purpose...

He was alone. He had always been alone. And he couldn't do it, not anymore.

"Thor!" The scream was weak and not above a whisper, but it worked.

The man came back, kneeling before his form and the darkness was once again pushed to the back of his mind.

"It's too late." 'I made sure.'

He had always been a clever boy. Not strong or skillful, not Odin's favourite. So the simple question that appeared in his mind... he should have been able to answer it.

"How do Jotuns bleed, brother?"

'After how long do you start hallucinating?' And the answer to that was even more obvious than to the one he had aimed for his brother.

'Not yet.'

Because those were tears on Thor's cheeks and this was him, the man no one had ever noticed, the unskilled trickster who couldn't even hide the blood from his own hands, in his arms. Being rocked gently. Being kissed softly.

"Blue." Thor hiccuped in his hair, long after someone could hear him. "They bleed blue, my Loki."

...they die.