"…hold on, he's not Scott. He would never do something ridiculous like that…" Rowan shook his head.
However, the action made him dizzy. He lost balance and fell right back on the bed. Since he left it already, crashing into it made him realize how wet it was from his sweat. Rowan found it disgusting and slid down to the side.
It was his own body's sweat, but he remembered too many remarks about it. Without his supposed perfectly drafted skincare routine, he was going to smell awful. Of course, that was what Scott said, so naturally, that was what Rowan believed.
"Hey, are you okay?" Duke's voice came from the door. Rowan opened his eyes and saw how Duke was covered in a seemingly sad gray apron. It looked sad to Rowan because it was a painter's apron, and yet it had not yet tasted splashes of paint.
"…I just… fell…" Rowan worked hard to get up, and Duke just helped him up halfway. He didn't blame Duke; the man's hand was covered in smudges of paint.
Rowan chuckled as Duke slathered red paint on his wrist. He scratched on it to get rid of it. "Why do you have paint on your hands but none on your apron? Wait, you said" no asking… sorry."
Duke only smiled as he watched Rowan shrink to avoid his wrath. "This one has a good shade of red, almost like blood. Didn't you once think this is blood?"
"Uh, the coating is thin and opaque, so it can't be blood. It'd take a lot of time for blood to set an opaque color on your skin; latex paint, not so much."
"You know a lot about blood."
"Scott stopped buying grocery chicken. I had to buy a live one and butcher it myself." Rowan sighed as he looked back at his sacrifices. Then again, by that time, they were all worth it. He shouldn't regret anything at this point. "Sorry, that's probably a very awful mental picture."
Duke only smiled. He then looked around and saw that there was nothing amiss aside from the sheets that Rowan pulled when he slid down to the floor. "Rowan, would you rather sit in the lounge and just watch TV, or would you fix something up in the kitchen? Don't worry, I eat store-bought meat."
Rowan felt embarrassed at the teasing, so he just nodded. He didn't choose, but he nodded at whichever option was given. He even forgot that he had to verbally answer.
They stood there for a good few seconds before Rowan realized what happened. He shot his eyes up at the smiling man. "I, uh, I'll cook. I have to repay you, at least."
"All right, I'll walk you there. Call me when you feel dizzy. I don't want you getting injured from falling down or accidentally cutting yourself," Duke answered as he gestured to the other to follow him.
"Should I stay in the kitchen until I… I'm done?"
"Hm? You can wander around the hallway, but it's best for you to not enter any rooms. You can always return to your room, the room where we came from."
Rowan took note of everything before looking around to appreciate the wide condominium unit of the man who rescued him. The walls, however, were all beige or hazel brown—that it was boring to Rowan's eyes. The minimalistic look never set well with a man who lived in a house filled with soothing LED lights that colored the night.
When he reached the kitchen, he saw the wide floor in the absence of a kitchen island. Everything lined the walls as if the wide floor had a particular use. It didn't help that he could easily spot a drain at one side and how the floor didn't seem to be entirely flat.
What could Duke do in this kitchen that needed liquid on the floor to move down on its own to a not-so-conspicuous drain? Scott's kitchen was remodeled with this design, too. However, Rowan knew why.
"I hope you can find what ingredients you're looking for. I barely cooked here." Duke left Rowan on his own in the kitchen. His words made Rowan more curious.
No matter, Rowan wanted to get busy to forget things. He already lived with a man who dared to kill him. How different was it to live with a suspicious man who saved him?
…
It was already seven in the evening when Rowan finished cooking for dinner. He woke up again around 3 PM, so he was on time to cook if he wanted to roast something. After all, with everything Duke had in his kitchen, all Rowan could do was roast something.
Rowan still looked around to know why the kitchen was designed like this. It was good because he would trip on a flat flooring, but he didn't think Duke used the kitchen for cooking. The cupboard was empty, and the fridge only had a few vegetables and a whole lot of beer. Everything looked new or just awfully maintained for sudden yet occasional use.
The aroma of the classic roast beef with vegetables and potatoes spread throughout the kitchen and possibly the whole house. After all, this modern kitchen didn't even have an exhaust over the stove to deal with the heat and smoke.
Rowan had to air the place by opening the small window at the side. From there, he realized that he was indeed in a somewhat different place. He couldn't recognize the view—the shorter buildings, the wrong skyline, the mountains that covered the horizon…
"We're not in the capital…"
"Is that where you came from?"
Another new voice came to Rowan's ear. When he turned, he saw the slender male walking inside the kitchen. The man had a dress on—Rowan knew it was a woman's dress from just the looks of it. However, the male wore a blazer and then skinny jeans under it.
On the man's ear was a piece of dangling gold bangle. His eyelashes were even thick and long, his lips peach-red. The man's hair was wavy and medium-length, obscuring his other ear since it was combed to the side. The exposed side was shaved to a scruff to thin down the look. It looked so modern and androgynous that Rowan couldn't cope. Scott would never let a man like this inside his own space.
"Did you make this? It looks delicious." The slender male used his hand to pick up a thin slice of the roasted beef. He even slurped on his finger for the juice. "Duke will choke to death because of this."
"Choke to death? Doesn't he like beef?"
"You're not supposed to be hosted for so long. If you show him meals like this, he won't let you go so easily.