Chapter 3
The room felt heavier than ever. The air, thick with palpable tension, seemed to hum as En Dwi and Loki shared the space in the same way shadows stretched and intertwined in the far corners of the room.
Loki, leaning against the table, didn’t appear as uneasy as Thor might have expected. Instead, his eyes gleamed with a calculated intensity, observing En Dwi’s every movement as though waiting, analyzing.
En Dwi, on the other hand, was unnervingly still, almost too calm. His fingers traced an invisible pattern across the table, as if conducting a silent symphony. Sunlight filtered through the windows, glinting off scattered paint stains on the desk, yet it did little to dispel the oppressive darkness of what was unfolding.
“You know, don’t you?” En Dwi whispered as he moved closer to Loki, his voice dripping with softness that left no room for refusal. “What I like about you is that you’re always here. You always come back.”
Loki didn’t reply immediately, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t one of joy but of resignation, as though acknowledging a routine he no longer found surprising.
“And you...” Loki countered, lifting his gaze without retreating from En Dwi’s proximity. “Do you know what I like about you? Your... insatiable need to feel superior.”
En Dwi chuckled softly, the sound barely audible, and leaned closer. His hand, casual yet deliberate, rested on Loki’s wrist—a light touch that carried an undertone of possessiveness.
“And you... always so clever. No matter how many times I tell you, Loki, you never stop surprising me.”
Loki didn’t flinch, though his ocean-dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of interest and disdain. His lips parted as if to respond, but En Dwi silenced him with a deliberate motion of his hand—unhurried, unyielding.
“Shhh,” he murmured, as though commanding silence. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Before Loki could protest, En Dwi’s hand slid to the back of his neck, gripping him firmly yet gently, a display of control masked as tenderness. Loki didn’t resist, though a flicker of something—disgust, frustration—crossed his expression.
En Dwi brought his face closer to Loki’s, their lips mere inches apart. The tension in the air was suffocating. “You’re so... fascinating,” he whispered, letting the weight of his words linger between them.
Loki narrowed his eyes but didn’t reply. He knew En Dwi’s words were part of a game—a dangerous one he had somehow learned to navigate.
Then, in a move Thor could never have anticipated, En Dwi tilted his head and brushed his lips against Loki’s cheek—a fleeting kiss, barely a touch, yet loaded with overwhelming intensity.
Loki didn’t pull away, though his posture betrayed discomfort. He could feel the weight of manipulation in every gesture, in every word spilling from En Dwi’s lips. This wasn’t a teacher merely guiding his student; it was something far murkier.
From the doorway, Thor watched silently, his breath hitching as he tried to process what he was seeing, as though the scene unfolding before him was too abhorrent to be real. The implications of the touches, the hidden meanings behind every smile—it all made his stomach churn.
He couldn’t be sure if Loki felt the same, but the notion that his brother was caught in a game he didn’t understand—or perhaps understood too well but couldn’t escape—was haunting.
“Loki...” En Dwi whispered, this time allowing their lips to meet briefly. The kiss was deeper, lingering, oppressive in its quiet power. Loki didn’t respond, didn’t push En Dwi away, simply letting it happen as though it were yet another routine.
Thor clenched his fists, anger and fear warring within him. He wanted to burst into the room, to rip Loki away from this, but he remained rooted, absorbing every detail, every word that reached his ears.
Finally, En Dwi pulled back, his expression serene with a chilling satisfaction. “I told you to stay still, didn’t I? You know what I want.”
Loki inhaled deeply, his gaze steady but eerily calm as it locked with En Dwi’s. “Yes, I know.”
With that, the Grandmaster stepped back, leaving Loki seated at the table while the suffocating tension hung heavily in the room. Thor, his heart pounding in his chest, took a step back, unable to shake the image of what he had just witnessed.
Still hidden in the shadows of the doorway, Thor felt a mixture of helpless fury and despair welling up inside him. The soft murmurs exchanged between En Dwi and Loki lingered in the air like secrets meant for no one else but them.
Every passing second sharpened Thor’s dread, each piece of his suspicion falling into place in ways that terrified him.
En Dwi, satisfied but unwilling to relinquish his hold, ran a hand through Loki’s hair, his movements deliberate and unnervingly gentle. “I told you, Loki... You’re a special student,” he murmured, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable threat. “You never cease to amaze me. And I never tire of saying it.”
Loki’s slight shrug seemed nonchalant, but his eyes betrayed a storm brewing beneath the surface. Thor saw it—an unspoken plea masked by stoicism.
“You know what I want, don’t you?” En Dwi asked again, his tone deceptively gentle, an order disguised as a question.
“Yes,” Loki finally replied, his voice measured, his expression unreadable.
“Good,” En Dwi said, his smile darkened with satisfaction.
Before leaving, En Dwi leaned in one last time, his lips grazing Loki’s forehead in a gesture of twisted intimacy. Loki remained motionless, his gaze fixed on something distant, far beyond the confines of the room.
“See ya later, Loki,” En Dwi said, retreating with a smirk as he left the room, leaving Loki behind.