The gravel of the road rustled under his tires as he hit the breaks in front of Dorian's house. His car had definitely seen better days, but as long as it worked, he wasn't willing to buy a new one. The beautiful log house right next to his car seemed to be on a totally different level. His small, rusty, clunky, and very dirty Toyota didn't really fit in the same scenery as Dorian's stylish, minimalistic house that was planned to blend into its environment almost seamlessly.
Dorian's wealth didn't surprise him. Anyone could gather a fortune if they had the time, and that's all Dorian had, literally centuries. He had a small empire built around his name, but Milot knew he wasn't that keen on money and splendor. There were a dozen or more charitable organizations that he donated to and nature preservation was close to his heart. His face never grazed the covers of tabloid newspapers. He kept his profile as low as possible, for obvious reasons. The last thing he needed was some curious journalists digging his past and asking questions about his striking similarities with his great-great-grandfather and how they looked more like identical twins than distant relatives.
Milot stepped out of his car, took the rental agreement and a bag of warm, grilled chicken he stopped to buy on the way. He hadn't eaten anything during the whole day and he figured he could have a dinner date with Dorian while at the same time discuss business in a very relaxed, casual way.
He crossed the yard and noticed the sickly green plant that was circling almost the entire house, parts of the forests, and both sides of the tidy gravel road. Its enormous mass didn't frighten him and before he walked to the door, he took a few experimental steps closer to it. But he didn't even have a chance to touch it, let alone get too close as it pulled its leaves and thick branches further away like it was afraid of him. If Ruben had witnessed the scene, he would have been amazed and impressed but most of all, deadly curious about Milot's real identity.
Rube's wife was never afraid.
Milot shrugged his shoulders like something like this happened every other day. He knew he had an opportunity to talk with Virginia later on, no need to rush things that weren't ready to take place. Maybe the big girl didn't even recognize him, but she clearly sensed something was off. He didn't waste time pondering about it and rang the doorbell three times in a row and once more just to be a bit annoying. A young girl in her twenties opened the door and Milot flashed one of his most charming smiles to her. She didn't look too impressed and judging by her facial impressions, he sniffed his shirt and gathered maybe it was time to shave, maybe even take a shower. His smile was usually very effective, but there were times when it failed miserably. When he looked exactly like this, a caveman from the stone ages trying to pose as a modern, 21st-century man who had the latest model of an iPhone but only used it for calling and sending text messages and had no idea what all those fancy applications were meant for.
"Is Dorian home?" Milot asked like he was an old friend that just happened to stop by on this rather beautiful Saturday.
The girl ran her eyes up and down his body and then she nodded, but refused to budge from the doorway. Was she a bodyguard or a butler? Or both? Milot wondered as the silence extended and the situation was getting more and more awkward by the moment.
"Can I come in and see him?" Milot asked and tried his smile again.
"He's having lunch," the girl replied. "And when he's having lunch, he doesn't want to be interrupted. Have you made an appointment?"
"I didn't know this was the doctor's office," Milot continued. "I'm not interrupting him. I've been planning this meeting for years. I'm sure he's happy to see me."
"I'll ask him," the girl said and tried to close the door on him.
"Let's ask together," Milot said and slipped inside. The girl scowled at him, but instead of trying to shove him out of the door, she told him to take his shoes off. Then while he was pulling his dirty sneakers off, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen and Milot heard her anxious voice asking should she call the police.
As he emerged into the kitchen and walked casually straight to the cupboards to get a plate for his grilled chicken, the owner of the house barely lifted his eyes. Dorian was sitting on a small, round dining table and eating a light lunch which mostly consisted of salads and bread, avocados, and other healthy, nutritious foods. His eyes were glued to his laptop. He had seen Milot's car and although he looked liked he couldn't care less, the weird interaction between Milot and Virginia didn't escape him and caught him by surprise. He didn't pay any attention to the article he was reading because just before Milot forced himself inside, he quickly searched for a vague science blog that he now seemed to be heavily invested in.
Milot pulled the still warm, very greasy chicken leg on a plate he found, grabbed a couple of sheets of paper, and slammed himself on the opposite side of the table. Dorian still refused to look at him and as the silence continued, he finally nodded to the girl and excused her. She scowled at the uninvited guest and just before she finally closed the front door behind her, she shouted her goodbyes and slammed the door behind her.
"I didn't know you had such an angry teenage butler," Milot grinned as he dug into his chicken and pulled off pieces of flesh by his bare hands, and stuffed them straight into his mouth. "Does she have a crush on you?"
Dorian cleared his throat, stared at him, and looked positively disgusted by his savage way of eating. He moved his laptop a little further away and took a sip of water from a clean, crystalline glass. He didn't respond and kept his eyes on the screen of his laptop but he had a little time to observe this man while he tried to interact with Virginia and noticed some changes in him since their last encounter.
Milot was tall now and had more mass. He wasn't as thin as Dorian remembered him. He had muscles in his arms, a tangled mess of a beard on his face, dirt under his nails, a worn-out beanie on his head. He should have looked awful and but for some reason, he looked shamelessly charismatic and attractive in a rugged sort of way. A man who didn't stay indoors, but spent most of his time outside digging, building, gardening, you name it. What did Ruben say once? "I bet he's a real heartthrob when he's an adult."
Dorian glanced at him. A heartthrob? Hardly. But he could have looked a lot worse.
"You needed a car this time?" Dorian finally asked. "Has your teleportation skills failed you? Or did you simply just decided to act like a human for once?"
"Why wouldn't I use a car?" Milot smiled. "I have a driver's license and I live nearby. And I never teleported myself. Just you."
(Liar, liar, pants on fire.)
"You live nearby?" Dorian lifted his gaze. "In the town?"
"Uh-uh," Milot nodded, wiped his fingers on his jeans, and placed his rental agreement on the table. "I came to see my new landlord and talk business with him."
Dorian pushed his laptop aside, took the documents, and read them. He always signed all of his leases personally but now he had no memory of renting one of the commercial storefronts and an upstairs apartment to Milot. But it was clearly his signature at the end of the document. He soon realized that Milot had used his trade name as the main tenant but Dorian realized that his real name was stated clearly only a few lines below that. Why hadn't he noticed it before signing? And if he had, would it make any difference? The hot shop Milot was setting up seemed an interesting idea and he had made a pretty good name for himself and for his products during the last ten years or so. And Dorian almost always invested in new and good ideas. He didn't need ten different barbershops in his town, two were enough if they were good and attracted enough customers. And up until now, there weren't any hot shops or glass studios around, so why wouldn't he be interested.
"What business?" Dorian asked. "Everything is stated clearly in the documents. Are you not satisfied with the rent? Then you should have contacted me before you signed it."
"Pay you a midnight visit?" Milot smiled. "I bet you would have loved that."
"Get to the point," Dorian frowned.
"As you can see, I'm planning to set up a hot shop," Milot finished his chicken, wiped the rest of the grease off his fingers, and leaned a bit closer. "And for that to happen, I need to make some small renovations."
"Such as?" Dorian crossed his arms and moved his chair a bit further away.
"The floor in front of the furnace needs to be fireproof, which it currently is not," Milot began. "So I need to put on some sort of metal plating on top of wood paneling, with your permission of course. I noticed you have an automatic sprinkler system, but it can't be too sensitive. There's going to be a lot of smoke and heat and I don't need an unplanned shower every time there's little smoke floating around. Also, shelves, displays, the countertop, I have some things to build if you tell me where to get the materials."
"That sounds like a lot instead of small renovations," Dorian pointed out. "Need some help?"
"Are you willing to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty with me?" Milot asked amused. "If so, you are definitely welcome."
"There's a hardware store at the town as well as a small construction company," Dorian ignored him. "You can get all the materials from there."
"So I have your permission to make the necessary changes then?" Milot asked.
"Sure," Dorian agreed. "When are you planning to open your store?"
"My furnaces and tools should arrive next week and I'm hoping to get the flooring done before that," Milot said. "But it will take some time to get everything working and the shelves installed. Within a month or two, at the beginning of June."
"How will you live till then?" Dorian asked.
"I'll manage," Milot assured him. "But it's nice that you care."
Dorian sighed and moved his eyes from Milot back to his laptop. He still didn't know what the article he clicked on was, but as long as he seemed uninterested in the man sitting in front of him, that was all that mattered. It was unexpected that they were now a tenant and a landlord but hadn't he expected to see Milot at some point anyway. At least he arrived to meet him with a car instead of whisking Dorian away with his mind whenever he felt like it.
"Pawie misses you," Milot suddenly said. "You are welcome to see him whenever you feel like it."
"That talking cat of yours and I have barely exchanged a few words," Dorian pointed out. "He has no reason to miss me."
"You and I have barely exchanged a few words," Milot pointed out. "And I miss you all the time."
An awkward silence fell into the room. Dorian didn't move his gaze from his laptop because he was afraid of what he would see if he looked into Milot's eyes. The scent of grilled chicken floated in the kitchen. It offered him a chance to get out of the situation. He stood up, walked to the exhaust fan, and turned it on. He didn't turn around and he closely listened to the movements behind him. Was Milot getting up? Was there something else to talk about? Dorian swallowed. His back and the nape of his tingled like he was waiting to be touched. Leaned on. Why was he suddenly this nervous? This was his house, he could turn around any time and tell Milot to leave, order him to go. But there was something strange, something almost too familiar with this situation. He felt like he couldn't be harsh towards this person. He couldn't order him around, he didn't have the authority. If anything, he should...what? Respect this person? Tell him how sorry he was? For what? Why was he suddenly feeling so sorry for him?
A light tap on his kitchen window startled him and as he spun around, the room was empty and his visitor had already left. Milot waved his hand through the window, walked to his car, and was gone before Dorian had time to realize what just happened. He hadn't heard the door open or Milot's footsteps as he left. The only logical thing he could think of that Milot just teleported out his kitchen and that conclusion made him shudder. If he could do that whenever and wherever he wanted, what's to stop him from coming and going as he pleased?
Once again, Dorian's usually calm mind was disturbed to the point of breaking. But what made it worse was that Milot was now living very close. Dangerously so. And when was close, those old nagging questions (What he was? Who he was? How did he know Dorian?) once again began to eat away at his mind. And he knew that before long, he would probably be the one to look him out and demand answers.
He had never felt such uncertainty in his life and it was slowly but surely driving him crazy.