Ignited Petals

⊹⊱ 07| Bald Beauty ⊰⊹

"Jesus!" Israel shouted, his eyes snapping shut almost immediately.

'Leave Jesus out of this and admire the beauty in front of you mumu,' a voice in his head whispered, but Israel, without thinking, blindly reached out to draw the shower curtain back.

As he stood there, embarrassment washing over him, he muttered unheard words under his breath. 'Oh Lord, what have I done to myself?'

"What are you doing here?!" Oye's voice trembled, a pitch higher than usual, revealing her unease.

"I clearly told you that your room is the one to the right. Were you even listening?"

"Because of you, my eyes hurt so much. I can't even see anymore. The soap..."

"Don't even try to blame me. It's not my fault that you don't know the difference between left and right."

'But you know very well that you're at fault.'

'No, I'm not,' Israel argued with himself.

'You are, just accept it...'

"I said I'm not!" he blurted out.

"Who are you talking to?"

"I said that out loud? Sorry, I was thinking to myself," he apologized, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

"You're very strange, sir. And what are you even still doing here? You want to get in with me? Are you some sort of... pervert?"

Heat crept up from the base of Israel's neck, and he hurriedly replied, "What are you talking about? I was leaving already, just hurry up."

Oye could hear his footsteps and murmuring growing faint until they both stopped with the door slamming shut, indicating he was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued her shower as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Israel walked out of the room, regret gnawing at him for his awkward intrusion. He had thought he left the water running in his bathroom when he came into the room, which led to his barging in. As guilt still weighed on him, he strolled into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fridge to distract himself from the images in his head.

Connecting his earphones to his phone, he selected a song from his playlist. He discarded the half-eaten apple and began gathering ingredients - pepper, onions, seasonings, and more. Israel moved around the kitchen with ease, occasionally dancing to the song he was listening to. He placed a pot on the fire, adding oil and onions before moving to chop vegetables, all the while singing to himself.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout the house, stopping at the kitchen's entrance.

"Excuse me?" Oye called out from outside the kitchen, but received no response.

"Umm... excuse me?" She repeated, growing more curious.

"Mr... can you hear me?"

Still receiving no reply, Oye decided to approach him further. Just as she was about to tap him on the shoulder, Israel turned around abruptly, wielding the vegetable knife as if ready for an attack.

Her eyes went wide, and her reflexes kicked in as she instinctively used her hands to block his sudden actions.

She glared at him as he lowered the kitchen knife in his hand. "Do you have a fetish for harming people with knives? You're not even scared of committing murder."

Israel's breath caught in his throat as he realized the gravity of his actions. "Why did you sneak up on me like that? Never do that again. I might actually think it's an intruder and attack."

"I didn't sneak up on you," Oye replied, her guilt clear in her eyes. "You would have heard me calling you several times if you didn't have those things stuck in your ears."

Israel removed his earbuds and met her gaze. "Look, the thing is I'm not used to having people around here, especially at this time. Anyways, what are you...?" His voice trailed off as he realized how close they were. He drew in a sharp breath, his eyes unintentionally trailing the water droplets running down her face to the birthmark beneath her left eye and disappearing into the towel. He swallowed hard and quickly looked away, turning his attention to the chopped vegetables.

'What's wrong with me!?'

"What is it? You wanted to say something?" Oye asked, amused by the situation.

Israel looked away quickly and cleared his throat before asking, "What are you even doing here, anyway?"

Oye couldn't help but smirk. "Oh, would you like me walking about your house in a towel?"

"Yes, I mean no, but, you know what, go back to the room you were in before. I'm sure you'll find something nice, I mean, a shirt you can borrow or maybe something suitable enough to wear in here."

Surprised by his nervousness, Oye stared at him, her amusement growing. He avoided her eyes, just like before. She sensed his unease but couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

After a moment, she finally said, "Fine, I'm going," leaving wet footprints behind as she made her way out of the kitchen, while trying to hide the pain she felt with moving about.

As soon as she was out of his line of view, Israel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them suddenly, only to find the pot he had placed on the fire filled with burnt black onions. He hurriedly turned off the gas and, in frustration, grabbed the pot with his bare hands, wincing at the pain. He glanced at the water running into the blackened pot and at his burnt finger.

Closing his eyes again, he muttered to himself, "Oh Lord, I don't think I'm safe anymore."