Tony sunk to his knees on the bathroom floor, naked and betrayed, but loathing himself more than he ever could hate Loki.
The next week was a mess of drink and sorrow. He didn’t eat, he hardly slept, and bourbon was his new best friend again. He was alone with himself.
The following was no better, he stank, the paper work was piling up, and his phone was absolutely loaded with messages from Pepper, Rhodey, and even Steve whose voicemails would have been hilarious had Tony not been in such a pitiful state. He had sunk to a new state of perpetual drunkenness, and he might have even cried once, but it could have been one of his half-waking daydreams.
He scrolled through his phone with soft focus, not really paying attention to anything until the letters L, O, K, and I jumped into his field of vision. Their old texts from when Loki had been learning how to use his phone.
Tony groaned and scratched at the mess of a beard he had accumulated since that night, and in his drunken stupor he devised that it would somehow make him feel better to send a text, knowing full well Loki’s phone had been reduced to rubble, so it really couldn’t hurt. (He hadn’t noticed that Loki had taken the replacement phone Tony had prepared for him, since he hadn’t really noticed anything after that night.)
He keyed in the letters, autocorrect doing wonders for his spelling. [I’m a fking idiot. Don’t deserve u. Fuck.] [Send.]
Loki scrambled for the phone faster than he would ever admit. He flipped it open, his heart hammering in his ears as he read the text.
He sobbed, covering his mouth immediately.
[You should not want me.]
His thumb shook, hovering over the send button. He took a deep breath.