Chapter 5
Loki, God of Mischief
Hey there, peeps! I'm sorry for the agonisingly slow update! I'm not abandoning this story nor all others! Currently, I have a really, like really severe writer's block and my life is also quite busy! I've been jumping from story to story trying to write as much as I can with the severe lack of idea. I hope this chap do justice. I apologise again for the delay and I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter! Xx
Chapter 5
Rustle. Silence. Rustle.
The cushion beside him dipped slightly. Silence.
Slowly his ears caught the even and soft breathing by his side and he flipped to the next page, resuming his leisure reading. It was a comfortable silence.
"What are you reading?" She half-whispered. A casual question.
"Norse myth," he answered, volume similar to hers. From his peripheral, he saw the woman lifted her head from the cushion she was resting on and raised her eyebrow.
"Norse myth?" She asked again, the incredulity in her tone was evident.
"Norse myth," Kris retorted, nodding his head once to her and pursed his lips. He turned back towards his reading. Where was he? Oh yes...as his eyes found the mono-colored and un-fancy printed words. His eyes began to slowly traced the words, forming sentences into explanations thus into a carefully concocted story.
He heard her chuckle. A soft musical laughter he was getting used to hearing but not quite yet. Every time she laughed, Kris couldn't help the urge to look at her face and see the lone dimple adorning her cheek.
And he did.
She was...beautiful. A goddess, yeah. Kris internally smirked at his own irony. She was wearing a black, patternless dress - wide V-neck, a small black ribbon tied carelessly just above her Phoenix pendant that hung loosely on her chest, fluffed-out short sleeves with identical black ribbons tying the end that reached above her skinny and pale elbows. Her dress ended just below her knees while she was sitting down, complementing her long legs. It felt like she dressed to tempt. Her copper-colored hair was left dangling around her shoulder, one he knew how she preferred it. He found her right hand resting lightly on her stomach. Her slightly showing stomach - pregnant with his child. Kris saw this endearing, her habit was. She loved the baby and sometimes Kris saw her just patting her abdomen with a wistful gaze. Its rapid growth finally slowed down after a week she was staying with him. It was equivalent to about the second last week of the 4th month of human's pregnancy. So, the pregnancy was entering its second month of second trimester, she had happily informed him.
Chanyeol was...beautiful. Kris quickly reasoned that the pregnancy glow was making her beautiful.
"How amusing. You're in the very presence of the Norse Goddess of Fire yet you prefer reading this questionable piece of writing by some random mortal who relied more on his imagination," she scoffed good-naturedly at him before resting her head back onto the sofa.
Kris stopped his reading with a frown. He glared at the woman.
"I actually like what I'm reading," Kris said.
"Really?" She tilted her head at him, still with her mocking slash disbelief look. There was mirth in her doe-like caramel eyes, "you can ask me anything about Asgard, and I'll grant you truth yet by Thor's beard, you prefer being fed with this," she poked Kris's book, "crap." Then she chuckled as Kris's glare intensified as was his frown.
"Leave my book alone, will ya?" Kris grumbled, bookmarked his page and put the off-white-covered novel onto the coffee table. She laughed again then settled with a wide happy smile.
So it was one of those days when Kris was lucky. If she was happy, then Kris was spared from 'the wrath'. 'The wrath' being Chanyeol's temper tantrum. He bought a book about pregnancy and he thought the book didn't quite cover the misery men had to endure with hormonal pregnant women. It said the cravings were worse than the mood swings and that he had yet to experience.
Chanyeol's mood swings were like calm before the storm. There was a pattern. You couldn't anticipate when her expression would turn sour as if she'd eaten a lemon or smell something unpleasant. But it was always calm before her sudden rage, calm and silent. And her anger wasn't directed at him most of the times, and when she was angry Kris thanked god that it looked like a normal human's anger. One time she got irritated at Kris's cactus (Kris found this to be incredibly ridiculous). No matter how she adjusted the potted plant, she just couldn't find the perfect angle. This thus had led to her super-annoyance. Thankfully, Kris acted quick by saving the innocent cactus from being burned alive by Chanyeol. Or crushed by her bare hands.
At other times, what exhaust Kris was Chanyeol's highly sensitive sense of smell. It was as if the lady had turned into a bloodhound.
"You smell like a horse stable not yet mucked out," she informed him one morning with her dainty fingers pinching her nose. Kris who was smoothing his tie widened his eyes as he stared at the woman through the mirror in horror.
"What?" He exclaimed and sniffed his shoulder. He frowned when all he could smell was his cologne. He heard Chanyeol groaned and with a disgusted face she left him filled with uncertainty. He sprayed on his cologne again before going to his office. And as insecure as he was uncomfortable, he had asked Chen, his assistant, whether or not he smelled like a 'horse stable'.
Chen gave him an unsure look, one that said is-this-person-mentally-incompetent-and-should-I-really-answer-him look.
Hesitantly, his assistant slash secretary slash sort of best friend slash seasonal confidant took a whiff at his employer's designer's suit. Again, he shot Kris that look.
"I think you smell okay, sir," Chen said, "for someone who's crashed into a ten-foot bottle of perfume."
"Say what?" Kris grunted surprised.
"Sir, if the...'horse stable' is cleaned with a five-hundred dollar perfume, yeah you probably smell like one," Chen gestured emptily into the air. Kris narrowed his eyes and the PA let out a little 'meep'.
It wasn't long before the 22-year-old Kris Wu finally found the root of his dilemma. It wasn't that he stinks and he really was not, Chanyeol had just developed a strong aversion towards Kris's favourite (more like one and only) cologne. He purposely dabbed Chanyeol's pillow with it for revenge (after Chanyeol called him goat's poop) and he got a sick pleasure from watching Chanyeol retching into the toilet bowl, pale and glowering. After that, he felt guilty and helped the pregnant Goddess from falling asleep hugging the toilet and replaced his perfume with one that didn't agitate the mischief-maker (he shoved aromatic bottle after bottle under Chanyeol's nose until the latter approved without vomiting). And 2 weeks had gone without any trouble.
God, he realised, how tiring was his life these days. It's a whirlwind. And it all started with the uninvited arrival of one God of Mischief.
"Hey Chanyeol," Kris broke the lingering silence.
"What?"
"How come you can speak Korean?" Kris suddenly asked. He finally remembered. The Norse goddess should be speaking Norse, shouldn't she? Or whatever language it was she spoke with. But here she was, speaking Korean in all her might and glory.
"I don't speak Korean," Chanyeol replied. Kris waited for her to elaborate, watching her smoothing the material of her dress in front of her middle.
"I don't get it," Kris frowned. "Explain please."
Chanyeol giggled. "I don't speak Korean, yes, but the Allfather was gifted with the language of the world. He understood any language ever spoken or written and in return, being understood the same. And when he abdicated, he gifted this skill to me making me perceivable to any language I'm spoken to and I can answer in my own tongue and I am answering in my own tongue, you just hear it in Korean from me."
"So what you're saying is, if I talk to you in mandarin, you'll speak in mandarin too when you're actually not? Same with English? I just hear you in those languages?"
"Precisely. Or in any other language you decides to converse in with me," Chanyeol nodded.
"So when I'm talking, you're actually hearing me speaking -what- your language?" Kris smirked.
"Yes again," Chanyeol grinned.
And they fell into silence again, with Chanyeol sighing contently by his side. Sometimes, there was something about the Norse being that made her approachable and he could be with the other without the pressure of the awkward atmosphere that usually ended in a lame attempt to start up a conversation. As he was lost in his thoughts, Kris was taken by surprise when Chanyeol was suddenly burying her face into his shoulder. What the, she was sniffing him?
"Oi, what?" Kris unintentionally jumped.
"Kris, what perfume are you wearing? Goodness, it smells so divine!" Chanyeol exclaimed and Kris jerked his shoulder away before Chanyeol could sniff his arm again.
Okay, this is new.
"What are you talking about?" Kris frowned. He wasn't wearing any perfume, it was a bloody Sunday! All that was on his shirt was the scent of detergent. Was this also a part of the pregnancy thing again? Oh no...
"Stay still, you!" Chanyeol snapped at him.
And surprisingly Kris obliged, there was a little part of him that feared the veiled power Chanyeol had. As he ceased any struggle, hiding his discomfort, he let Chanyeol burrowed her nose once again on his shoulder. And heard the pregnant goddess moaned in delight before the tinkling sound of her giggle floated into his hearing. It wasn't long before Chanyeol claimed her self-proclaimed spot to cuddle next to the dull and willing Kris Wu, breathing evenly until she felt asleep. She reminded Kris of a full kitten spoiled by its master.
A hint of smile played on Kris's lips. Somehow he knew, he had made Chanyeol happy (and he was safe for another day).
~~
It was dark outside - the sky was a murky grey. Too ominious and unpredictable when it was never before. Thor's hard gaze was directed to the sky above Asgard, the once azure blue sky with planets etched like exotic accessories upon the expansive blue. His hands were bare -no weapon, no paper...nothing. The God of Thunder was one who had never fully been able to be in control of his emotions, and they feared his wrath.
There was a knock on the door. And the troubled Asgardian king turned to see one of his subordinates kneeling in front of him, head bowed and arm crossed against his chest in respect and greeting.
Thor was gravely silent. His eyes were steel blue - hardened as he watched the man rose.
"Forgive me, sire." The dark-haired servant apologised. "I failed to find the prince."
Thor didn't respond to the other. Instead he sighed. And turned his face away from the messenger. He knew this would happen.
"You are pardoned."
"Sire?"
The sky was turning a darker shade of grey, almost black and with a single drop of rain, the sky burst open with thousand tears upon the beautiful city below. Thor's face may be unreadable at that moment, but there was no way the King could hide the sorrow in his heart. The young Asgardian king was grieving the lost of his beloved brother. And he knew he was responsible for Loki's absence.
It was different this time. Loki didn't come back when Thor expected him to.
This time, it was different.
"Loki is a master in hiding. When he hides, he hid himself well, not even the best tracker could find him - not even a lock of his hair can be found," Thor murmured absently. He clenched his fist as the first thunder lighted the dull sky.
Loki might not want to be found, but that wouldn't stop Thor from searching.
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