The Old Scars | Loki Hurt/Comfort

Facade Down

A/N:

Before you start reading this chapter, I want to clarify something: I totally don't think this is how Tony would react, and I'm sorry to have him behave like that in this story, but I just need that for the plot. I genuinely love Tony, and his PTSD and anxiety aren't talked about enough, but this story's focus is on Loki and if I went into Tony's feelings as well, I'd never be able to finish the whole plot. So, my apologies, please forgive me.

Bruce gradually lifted the cloth. Tony, as curious as he was, instantly stuck his head out.

What I looked at weren't just some cuts. It was a cluster of marks, a collage of pain, a picture book of suffering. No, no, those can't be real. As an Avenger (and due to your past, Y/N) I've seen many wounds, all types of injuries, but among Loki's was such a huge variety of most different harms that I didn't dare to imagine where they'd all come from.

Fine lines, white, brown, purplish ones, bruises, burns, fresher and still crusted wounds, the list went on—thick lines, long or short, swollen ones, a darker patch as well.

I looked away. I couldn't take it.

Weakling. Coward.

Bruce seemed to be in a heavy discussion with Tony now, but nothing of that reached my brain. All I heard was a dump hum of meddled voices. 

Slowly, feeling like in a trance, I extended an arm, a single finger, to touch Loki's bare skin. It was cold, maybe even colder than usual, and I traced some of the scars. This is Loki, this is the Loki you know. Whenever you're around him, all of this hides beneath his clothes.

Well-working facade.

And this was only a small area on his abdomen.

Was all of this self-inflicted? And if not, who had done it then? I really wasn't sure which idea made me feel worse.

Bruce's face signalized sheer uneasiness while he entirely took the hoodie off of Loki with utmost cautiousness. None of us wanted to see more of what we'd discovered, and yet we were all staring until we realized the god's whole upper body was covered in scars.

"No, we can't just look at that, we're heavily invading his privacy here." Bruce decided.

He was right. Regardless, Loki's skin was shouting, screaming for me to look at it as if there was something it wanted to tell me. A story, perhaps?

More than one.

Tony went back to the doorway and leaned against the wall, distracting himself with his phone, and Bruce finished taking the hoodie off. Then he most carefully cleaned Loki's upper body and examined every wound, every scar he could see on him.

It was just a matter of time until he'd see his forearms.

Bruce was already opening his mouth.

"Listen, we can't be 100% sure about where all the scars on his abdomen came from, but on his forearms and wrists, he's also got seemingly very fresh wounds besides old ones. Spread randomly, but all about the same length and apparently cut with the same thin blade. Loki is self-harming."

The silence was crushing.

"Actually found that out in that little talk with reindeer games earlier. But, to be honest, it looks worse than I had thought."

I didn't even have the energy to question it. Luckily, Bruce did.

Tony was quickly recounting what exactly had happened between Loki and him, but since Bruce had made his conclusion, I again merely heard muffled talking. As if they were speaking in a foreign language unknown to me.