Work Text:
Loki lets go of Thor’s hand, and he falls – he falls for what feels like both forever and merely an instant, a fraction of time. He tumbles head over heels with no sense of which direction is up and which is down, surrounded by darkness one moment which fluidly changes into fireworks of colour with the blink of an eye and then back again with another blink.
For the first time in a long time, he feels fear, true gut deep fear rather than the fleeting fear he feels when a plan goes temporarily askew, and Thor is glowering at him. He is not in control and that is what frightens him, because normally he is the brains, the one with the plan, the one who knows that is going on – but in this void he finds himself in, he is not in control.
It feels like moments, it feels like millennia. Loki can feel his mind fracturing, much as he likes to be alone, even he needs human contact. Deprived of human contact, he creates it in his mind, replaying conversations in his head, creating conversations he wishes had happened, until he cannot tell the difference between what has happened and what he wishes had happened and what he thinks has happened.
And still he falls.