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Before him, the infinite galaxy stretched out, darkness spreading further than the bare eye reached, the only light in the pitch-black emptiness surrounding him were the stars sprinkled here and there, like freckles across a cheek.
The view would be gorgeous, if it weren’t for the ruins of his home planet.
If he averted his gaze from what used to be Asgard just the slightest to the side, he wouldn’t even have guessed what horrendous fate has come to fall upon the planet, the palace, his home. If only his eyes (or at least the one that hadn’t been demolished by his sister) could stay glued to the stars, to the planets far, far away, to anything but the horror that had played out before him mere minutes ago.
But they couldn’t, and always ended up trailing back to Asgard, or at least what was left of it.
Despite knowing it was probably wrong to think so, he internally begged for the ship to finally turn around, to have flown far away from what he used to call his home, so that he wasn’t forced to look at it anymore. Which didn’t sound fair, because people had died, and he did acknowledge that, but he just couldn’t right now, or he feared he wouldn’t be able to breath due to his suffocating thoughts.
Shouldn’t he rather feel lucky, happy almost, for he alongside many others had survived what was sworn to be the downfall of his whole species? Well, he didn’t. He didn’t feel the slightest ounce of happiness, nor relief, despite, of course, being glad that at least some of his friends had survived.
Father, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and even Hela, who’d been punished for mistakes she hadn’t done and who’s piercing glare would never leave his mind again, as well as the scratches she’d left on his throat by strangling him, but yes, even her- had all left him. In what, three days? Less?
They’d left, with curt apologies, or none at all, and maybe their faces were engraved in his memory forever, maybe their voices would haunt him in his nightmares from now on, maybe their eyes would follow him wherever he might go, nevertheless they’d left. Just like that. How was he supposed to live with that?
The words to describe what he was feeling just weren’t there, because neither grief nor pain nor anger could exactly define that storm raging inside him, waiting, praying to be set free. It was too much to just explain. To put into words. Which was weird, because didn’t he like to talk, didn’t he like to twist his words in a fancy manner, even when knowing that it sounded ridiculous in certain situations?
Something told him this had changed him. That alongside all of those friends and relatives and his eye and Mjolnir, something else was lost, submitted to the flames tearing down his hometown, thrown to the beasts of hell waiting for him, sent falling down the infinite universe with no intention of ever being found again. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, but it was… gone.
Now, he was left with an uncomfortable scratch in the back of his throat, leaving his voice dry and sore from screaming, how often had he screamed today? Too often, he noted, and finally tore his gaze off the disturbing scene before him.
Thor had no idea where Loki had gotten the eyepatch from, but he appreciated it more than he‘d been able to show when his brother had pushed them into his hands with a slightly concerned expression on his face, which was quickly replaced with his practiced indifferent one as he’d turned away.
He found it somewhat humorous that it took him to literally lose an eye for Loki to actually show any sense of sensitivity towards him.
Said eyepatch in his hand (he’d been fiddling with the cord since he’d gotten it) he stepped towards the mirror, shooting a small glance behind him to reassure he was alone. Somehow, he felt exposed like this. No, not exposed- vulnerable.
Father would have despised that, and he barely held back a flinch as the thought crossed his mind.
He tentatively raised the eyepatch, unsure of how to attach it. For a few seconds, he remained in that position in utter silence, hands hovering before his wounded eye, and he caught his own wide eyes in the mirror, piercing blue and oddly panicked.
A strangled wheeze-similar sound escaped the back of his throat as he lurched forward, face twisted in pain, though it mostly wasn’t from physical pain. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
He couldn’t save his people, and now he even failed at doing something as simple as put on a piece of clothing.
Finally, after having upheld that strong facade his people had (and still) needed in times like these, he let the tears flow, or rather stream down his face, watched them drop down onto his hands, shaking fingers still clenched around the eyepatch. He choked back a sob, afraid that someone will hear it. Thin walls. Many people. He was lucky enough to have gotten a room for himself for the moment.
He only acknowledged the hiss of the door opening when it was already too late, when cautious steps had already been taken in his direction, where he stood hunched over by the mirror, head ducked and frame shaking in silent sobs, escaping his lips as a whimper.
He pressed his eyes shut. Why did someone have to interrupt him when he was like this, when he couldn’t uptain his image of strength and confidence?
„I’m fine“, he choked as he felt someone reach out, fingers grazing his shoulder, and he pushed them back almost aggressively. „It’s- I’m fine, give me a minute-„
The same suffocating silence as before answered him, though he felt the presence of the other weighing on him. Surely it couldn’t be Loki, and it couldn’t be Korg either. Perhaps Brunnhilde? But then again, she’d probably rather get drunk at times like these, so…
That only left one person who’d come and see him, and he didn’t know how that made him feel.
„I don’t want to talk.“ The words came out quieter than intended, something that he knew didn’t fit to his usual self. Small, weak, barely louder than a broken whisper. Pathetic, he knew, especially for a god, but what was he to do?
Banner shifted, and he caught his look in the mirror, his all-too familiar rich-brown eyes digging into his soul, even as reflection. He could find similiar glimpse of aftershock in them, like he still hadn’t been able to process what had happened, which was fair. The Midgardian hadn’t exactly been present for the fight, and waking up to see what they’d sworn to protect in ruins mustn’t have been easy for him, either.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he settled on the words: „We don’t have to.“ They were spoken carefully, as if he’d break if he’d use a volume more. Or maybe he just spoke how he usually did, Banner did tend to keep his voice down, after all.
Thor took a moment to inspect him. Apparently, someone had been able to provide him some clothes, a pair of robes that sat loosely on his shoulders in a weirdly endearing way. And he was squinting at him slightly, probably due to the lack of his glasses. He’d be more surprised if he still had the pair after that whole fight, to be fair.
When his breaths had calmed a bit from the ragged, quick intakes he’d had before, Bruce gestured to the eyepatch still in his hands, curiousity sparking in his eyes. „You need help with that“, he asked, words hanging in the air awkwardly. Thor saw the look in his eyes, the silent sympathy shimmering in them, but was glad he didn’t act on it.
The ‚no‘ already on the tip of his tongue, he stopped in his tracks, rethinking.
„I- yes, actually.“ He shuffled, turning around to him fully. He noticed Banner‘s eyes flying up to his, an unspoken ‚oh‘ forming on his lips. He couldn’t blame him for it, he’d seen his reflection in the mirror after all, and he knew his eye wasn’t exactly… in the most optimal condition. The pain had dimmed down a bit, but remained constant, reminding him of the ‚spectacle‘ there.
And now he even needed someone to help him with that. Gods, what had happened to him?
„Have you already taken care of that? It doesn’t look too good“, Bruce voiced the worry written all over his face, and, in a swift movement, reached out, fingers hovering in front of his cheek before pulling back, slightly flustered. „Uhm. You should probably have some pain meds, I think Loki was able to find some in the back. And maybe we should disinfect…“
„It’s fine, just a scratch.“ He hesitantly pushed the eyepatch in the doctors direction, who‘s lips grew thin as he reached forward, taking it into his own hands. He observed the patch for a moment, brows furrowing, before he looked up again. Thor could see the clear unhappiness of his decision in the other‘s eyes, the doctor probably raging inside of him, but then he nodded slowly, and stepped closer to him, to where he was leant against the mirror.
„Can you- wait“, Bruce absentmindedly murmured, and lifted his hands again to gently tilt Thor‘s chin into his direction. He didn’t even notice holding his breath until Bruce came even closer, eyes flickering over his face in poorly-hidden concern. (Maybe he wasn’t trying to hide it. Maybe he didn’t want to hide the fact that he cared. Which was pretty Midgardian of him, but also sort of… nice?) „I’m gonna attach it now, okay?“
Thor nodded weakly, allowing himself to lean into his touch as the scientist reached for his face once again, other hand steadily approaching with the eyepatch. He screwed his eyes shut when he felt the cool metal against his skin, inhaling sharply at the sudden contact.
He felt Banner shrink back the slightest, „Sorry, did I-„
„Do it.“
He heard the smaller man gulp and almost thought he wouldn’t do it, but sensed his fingers brushing against his skin seconds later. His eyes fluttered as Bruce adjusted the eyepatch, and finally pulled back, breath flitting over his face. „Done“, his lowered voice whispered, and Thor blinked, slowly opening his eyes again.
Their eyes locked from where Banner was still standing, head in his neck to get a proper look at him, fingers still grazing his cheek. The ghost of a smile flickered across his soft features as he lowered his hand.
„It suits you.“
Thor huffed, only now noticing how cold his face felt without the other‘s warm hands on it. He found himself missing his touch, and shooed away the inappropriate thought. „Nonsense“, he replied instead, his own hands reaching up to his eye to touch it gently, or more likely the patch over it. How can an eyepatch suit you?
Bruce was still looking at him, something in his eyes softening as he shook his head. „No, it really does.“
Thor couldn’t accept the compliment as it was, despite the flurry of warmth it sent through his body, instead he turned to the mirror, inspecting his face. It could be worse, he assumed. And yet, it felt odd. He didn’t think he’d get used to it that quickly.
„Thank you“, he said after a few seconds of silence, remembering his manners. „I appreciate it.“
Bruce only hummed, stepping next to him. The yellowish light fell onto his face, drowning him in warmth as they stood side by side, and Thor found himself struggling with tearing his gaze off the other man. Instead, he decided to comment something that had been on his mind earlier as well.
„I also can’t thank you enough for your help on Asgard. You saved hundreds.“
Now, the scientist turned to him, eyes shining as he chuckled. „You can thank the other guy for that. Although, I have the feeling he won’t make an appearance anytime soon. He’s pretty worn out after that one.“ He scratched his back awkwardly.
„Yet, you were the one who allowed him to come out. For that, I owe you. We all do“, were Thor‘s next words, and he meant every single one of them. Even so when Banner frowned himself, and opened his mouth to disagree.
„That’s bullshit, Thor. You don’t owe me anything- you saved me too, after all. God knows I wouldn’t have found a way out of Sakaar without your help.“
„Well, it appears we both have done our part“, he said, considering Bruce’s words for what they were. „Still. I thank you, my friend.“
And Banner gave him a smile, surprisingly genuine for the whole situation, causing his whole face to sort of light up. „You’re welcome.“