The young adolescent groaned quietly as the alarm by his bedside table shrilled loudly, piercing his ears with an unsatisfactory scream.
He rolled over and swung his arm to the button that would release the alarm from its duty, and then slumped to his back, green eyes staring up at his ceiling.
He was a teenager, feeling like an even younger boy, but all of his years of interacting with his older brother, fighting the good fights and laughing off his worries were beginning to weigh on him and his scrawny shoulders.
The alarm sounded another shrill whine as he rolled his eyes over to stare at it numbly.
He let it ring and ring and ring, until he heard the bang on his wall behind his raven head sound.
“Loki! Will you shut that damn thing off!”
Aaa, yes, Thor. I’ll get right on that, Thor. Just three more shrill whines for you to be annoyed by and then I’ll be shutting it off, Thor.
Satisfied by his early morning mischief, Loki rolled his way off his comfortable fortress and down onto the wooden floorboards, his cool feet slapping onto them with a playful beat.
He lunges his weight over to his dresser, picking out his black jeans and a rough, wrinkled gray t-shirt, before slipping the garments over his body and settling to stare at his thin face in the mirror.
It wasn’t that the adolescent was unattractive. By far, he was quite a handsome looking boy, with his black rivulets of hair reaching to the near tip of his shoulders, his green eyes budding with promise, mischief and knowledge. His jaw line was distinct and exquisite, but something lacked in his features that made him second guess his worth and his…placement in life and society.
He frowned to himself, the light in his eyes dissipating as he considered his role in school.
He was the loner there for sure, with few friends sans what his older brother’s fighting circle included. Sif, Fandral and Hogun weren’t the kind of people Loki would normally associate with, and they were more close to his brother than himself, but they were company nonetheless and Loki didn’t put up much of a fight for playing along with that.
Loki was normally the type of adolescent to find his nose in the books, studying relentlessly to pull up high grades in his advanced placement classes, hoping in his soul that his father would look upon his achievements with pride - the same way he would look to Thor’s achievements in sports and hobbies, despite the fool pulling out averages of C’s and maybe a few B’s (which only occurred with his help).
Loki normally ate his lunches (when he did eat) in the library before the thirty year old librarian with short brown hair and a kind heart would have to kick him out because there couldn’t be any more mice finding crumbs in the corners of the bookstands.
Loki often didn’t dare to enter the noisy cafeteria for his meals, the fight or flight cliques harboring more anger and resentment within himself than what he cared to admit as in his freshman year he found himself either alone or sitting amongst Thor’s obnoxious friends who mostly ignored Loki’s presence anyways.
Rather, the young adolescent preferred (when his library gig was a no-go) to sit outside amongst the bushes or tall oak trees, listening to the birds as they whistled, even choosing to sit out there in the drizzling rain because it meant avoiding another smoky bathroom stall lunch.
His green eyes snapped to attention, staring up at the reflection of his finely gray bedroom door, the pounding at it subsiding only to be met with their father’s booming voice, “Breakfast!”
Loki sighed to himself, and hurried over to his heavy book bag, a jumble of textbooks and pleasurable readings stuffed inside the dark green fabric. Grabbing the black straps and hanging them over his shoulders, he moved through his slightly messy room, to the door of his bedroom, begrudgingly having to begin another morning walk to the high school with Thor’s loud squabble of what he called speech.
It would be a long, long day indeed.