It had been two days. Two days since he’d last heard from her — and that was long enough to drive him halfway mad.

Loki wasn’t used to silence, at least not from her. Their friendship had always been a constant hum in his life, unpredictable yet familiar — laughter, arguments, the occasional storm that always passed by morning. But lately, things didn’t fade as easily. Lately, every small disagreement left a mark, every look lingered too long, and every word seemed to mean something else entirely.

He’d told himself she was simply being stubborn. That she needed space. That he didn’t care.

Except he did. More than he wanted to admit.

Now he stood outside her chambers, fingers hovering near the door but not quite knocking. Thor’s words still echoed in his head — “It’s rather obvious, brother. Friends don’t look at each other like that.” Nonsense, of course. Absolutely ridiculous.

...Wasn’t it?

He exhaled, rolling his eyes at his own hesitation. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath — though the word didn’t sound very convincing anymore.

Before he could think twice, his knuckles met the door. A quiet knock. Then another, slightly firmer this time.

If she was angry, fine. He’d endure her wrath. But the silence — her silence — that he couldn’t bear.