How Can Two People From Different Sides Ever Fall in Love? - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

◎ Raven has always been a man of action ◎

“How many times have I told you? Don’t dry your hair in the bathroom. Don’t dry your hair in the bathroom! Especially since you do it every single time right after showering, right after showering! The water vapor hasn’t even evaporated yet, but your hair is already almost dry.”

“Raven Griffith, is it that you think your life is too long, or that the hair dryer’s lifespan is too short!”

Hollis suddenly raised his voice, startling Raven on the sofa.

The incident was sudden. Raven didn’t make it to the kitchen and returned to the living room to sit back on the sofa.

This time, lacking confidence, he didn’t dare sit with a wide, relaxed posture. Instead, he kept his knees together, his wrists resting on his knees, looking up with a faint smile as he watched the man before him.

As soon as he had returned, he had taken off his glasses. Now, without the lenses obstructing them, a pair of grey-green “peach blossom” eyes were exposed to the air. He was smiling warmly, the corners of his eyes slightly upturned, rippling into two small waves.

What had started as a rather playful tone now held only obedience: “I won’t do it next time.”

“That’s exactly what you said last time!”

Hollis, on the other hand, had put on his glasses, as if worried he wouldn’t see clearly and might miss more of Raven’s “evidence of crimes.”

They were a pair of black square-framed glasses that did nothing to flatter his face; it was only because his looks were so outstanding that he withstood the devastation of the glasses.

Regarding this, Raven couldn’t appreciate it, thinking that if Hollis changed into a plaid shirt, he could seamlessly transition into a programmer.

Hollis, one step away from being a “programmer,” was currently standing in front of Raven with one hand on his hip and the other gripping the hair dryer. The nozzle was pointed directly at Raven, dark and hollow, looking very much like the muzzle of a gun.

Raven reached out, tentatively pushing the nozzle away. After he retracted his hand, Hollis turned it back. Raven had no choice but to give up and focus on dealing with Hollis: “This time, I’ve really remembered it.”

“That’s exactly what you said the time before last!”

Raven rubbed his nose, suspecting that Hollis was exaggerating.

“I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe I can’t fix this foul habit of yours!”

Hollis gripped the hair dryer, turned his head, and walked straight toward the balcony.

He half-squatted, stuffing the hair dryer into a cabinet, his voice of confusion echoing through the living room.

“I’m putting it this far away for you. How can you still take it back to the bathroom to dry after showering? To be lazy to this extent—isn’t it more convenient to just finish drying in the living room and put it back?”

Raven did not argue.

His posture remained unchanged, his attention entirely focused on Hollis, only relaxing slightly once he saw him enter the kitchen.

Having skillfully escaped a disaster, Raven lay on the sofa, gazing toward the kitchen.

The two men who had been in constant dispute during the day’s meeting, who would have thought that after the meeting adjourned and the doors were closed, one would be sitting in the living room obediently waiting for a meal, while the other put on an apron and busied himself in the kitchen.

Small spaces have the benefits of small spaces.

Staying in the living room, Raven could observe most of Hollis’s movements.

He saw that as soon as Hollis entered the kitchen, he reflexively took down the apron hanging on the door, skillfully tied a bow, washed his hands, and went to open the refrigerator.

The refrigerator stood in the corner of the kitchen, so Raven could only see his back. After a few seconds, he appeared back in view empty-handed, hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping across the empty marble countertop.

Work and life, in public and in private—the starkly different ways of interacting caused Raven to suddenly feel a different kind of emotion.

It was a very peculiar experience.

Raven rubbed his chin against his arm, tilted his head, and buried his face deeper.

He was waiting to see how the “clever husband” would solve the problem of cooking without rice.

The “clever husband” stood still, the apron strings cinching his waistline—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, a physique full of male hormones, a walking clothes rack, yet with a bow tied behind his back.

Raven couldn’t help but feel a stir in his heart.

Illogical and unreasonable; clearly he was only warm and hadn’t even eaten his fill, yet scenes from the bathroom earlier inexplicably surfaced. Certain ignored details were pointlessly magnified after returning to this hidden private space.

A surge of heat rose to the corners of his eyes. Driven by this heat, he stood up, walked into the kitchen, stood behind Hollis, and rested his chin on his shoulder, asking with feigned concern: “What do you plan to do?”

Anyway, there was nothing to eat; might as well eat something else.

“What do you plan to eat?” Hollis said crossly.

Coming over to order a dish, are you? The fridge is cleaner than a face; you couldn’t even find a direction to eat the north-west wind!

Near the end of the workday, Hollis had been thinking about what to make for dinner.

He had calculated everything, figuring he would definitely need to go to the supermarket. But before leaving, he had witnessed the “entanglement” between Raven and Silver. The exhaustion of long-distance travel hit him, and he could no longer eat anything.

Expecting Raven to have a date tonight, dinner wasn’t something he needed to worry about.

Walking to the door, he searched his whole body but couldn’t find his keys and couldn’t get in. Dazed and unsure of what to do next or where to go, like a stray animal without a home, he could only sit on the ground.

Fortunately, he finally waited for the owner to take him back, but dinner was still unresolved.

Facing the refrigerator that was only wasting electricity, Hollis closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them again, he propped up Raven’s chin, moved him away from his shoulder, and then with a long sweep of his arm, pushed the person out of the kitchen, head and all.

“Alright, the kitchen is a restricted area. No unauthorized personnel allowed.”

Raven stood at the kitchen door, staring blankly as Hollis turned briskly, leaving behind a dashing silhouette.

“Tsk.” All suggestive thoughts dissipated. Raven made his way back to the sofa. He appreciated Hollis’s decisiveness at this moment and hoped he could maintain it.

From behind him, Hollis asked: “There’s still a pack of dried noodles. Will you eat them?”

He had rummaged through the cabinets and with great effort found this pack of noodles, yet like a doting parent, he still asked for the child’s opinion in the face of the only remaining food.

the mature child was very polite: “I’ll eat whatever you make.”

“You’d better.” The parent, on the contrary, didn’t appreciate the sentiment, turning back to say with heartache, “There are no side dishes; I can only fry two eggs.”

Hollis busied himself. Raven sat on the sofa with a commanding posture. After two seconds of silence, the phone on the coffee table began to buzz.

Picking it up to look, a strange name made him frown. The phone continued to vibrate several times before he realized this was Hollis’s phone.

Their phones were the same brand, same model, same color, and even the screen saver was the factory default, never having been changed.

After nearly taking the wrong one several times, Raven had changed his screen saver to make it easier to distinguish, but there was nothing to be done about the caller ID; he couldn’t help but hesitate.

The contact on the screen had a first name but no last name; it should be someone he knew, likely a close acquaintance. Raven, worried it might be important, held up the phone and rushed toward the kitchen: “Your call.”

Hollis couldn’t free his hands and said without even looking: “Answer it for me.”

“Answer it for you?” Raven declined, “What if it’s your colleague.”

Hollis thought about it and realized he was right; Raven was a celebrity of sorts in the Dawn Party, and someone might recognize his voice. So he changed his wording: “Then help me turn on the speakerphone.”

Raven paused for a moment but still swiped the answer button.

The next second, the voice of a middle-aged male came from the other end of the line.

“Respected Councilor Lancelot, I heard your party has been holding a cross-party consultation meeting with those old fogies of the People’s Rationality Party recently. Were there any constructive proposals presented at the meeting?”

As one of those “old fogies,” Raven looked at Hollis with an amused glint in his eye.

He wouldn’t take a stranger’s casual comment personally to the point of taking his anger out on the owner of the phone.

As it appeared currently, the owner of the phone was the one who was unhappy.

He had almost snapped the chopsticks in half.

Raven couldn’t help but think gloatingly: Who told him to turn on the speakerphone?

Hollis glanced at the name “Peyton” on the screen, mouthed “my dad” to Raven, and kept his hands moving. With a splash, the noodles were dropped into the boiling water.

“Once the proposal passes and the announcement is out, you’ll know.”

Raven raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Mr. Peyton Lancelot actually interacted with his son like this in private.

As soon as Hollis finished speaking, Mr. Peyton let out a sneer over the phone: “By the time that happens, would I still need to make this call to you?”

A bit of politeness, but not much.

“Then hang up. I’m busy.” Hollis’s voice was as steady as a straight line, with no detectable fluctuation.

“I suppose it’s another of your beautiful but utterly worthless visions regarding the legalization of same-sex marriage. For thousands of years, mainstream heterosexual marriage has been like this; what are you, a homosexual, bothering with?”

In the phone, Peyton’s voice was distorted and cold: “A meeting once a year, and you don’t present any constructive proposals? You hold the taxpayers’ money and just do these insignificant little things?”

Hollis waited for the right moment and lifted the softened noodles into the bowl: “Mainstream heterosexual marriage—my mother and you?”

His expression did not change and his phrasing was simple, consisting of only a few words, but Raven, who was “eavesdropping” openly beside him, was startled. He immediately felt regret, wishing he could turn back time; as soon as the call was connected, he should have dropped the phone and run.

Even if it meant more work helping Hollis hold the phone, it would be better than being unable to leave or stay right now.

If an outsider’s mood was this complicated, how much more so for the other party involved.

The surrounding air seemed to freeze until Peyton hung up the phone; only then did it circulate again.

Hollis sprinkled chopped green onions over the two bowls of noodles and topped them with poached eggs.

Seeing this, Raven tucked the phone into his pocket and reached out with his hands, showing good judgment by moving to carry them. However, Hollis turned his body away, using his back to block the movement: “Don’t move, be careful of the heat.”

Seeing Raven’s subtle expression, he gestured with his chin toward the utensils: “You’re responsible for taking the chopsticks.”

Being assigned a task, Raven couldn’t quite say what he felt—it was strange, yet a bit pleasant; in short, it was contradictory.

He took the chopsticks out, saw Hollis taking off his apron and hanging it casually on the back of a chair, and felt a bit of regret.

The way Hollis looked wearing an apron had a peculiar aura that unexpectedly attracted him.

He curled his lip, walked over to sit down, held up four identical chopsticks to compare their lengths, and handed a pair to Hollis.

The steam from the noodle soup rose steadily, releasing a fragrant aroma. Raven picked up a small mouthful of noodles, blew on them a few times, and put them in his mouth. He did not bite off the noodles nor did he make a sound, eating seriously and carefully.

Opposite him, a third of Hollis’s bowl was already gone.

After finishing, he put down his chopsticks and suddenly spoke: “My father, he… has personality issues and is used to speaking without filter. Don’t take it to heart.”

Raven’s movements paused. Before all the noodles had entered his mouth, he looked toward him.

If Hollis hadn’t mentioned it, he would have almost forgotten about that matter.

As for caring, he certainly wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from teasing Hollis: “In the eyes of the public, we are just a bunch of old fogies?”

Hollis’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly rendered speechless by Raven.

He opened his mouth, several times on the verge of speaking but stopping, and finally chose to cooperate with Raven: “If you pass the proposal for the legalization of same-sex marriage, the public will change their impression of you.”

“No sneaking in private agendas, Mr. Councilor,” Raven couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t it only natural for the Progressive Party to despise the Conservative Party for not being progressive enough?”

Hollis agreed with a few words and tapped the table: “Eat quickly, the noodles will get cold in a while.”

After the meal, the bowls were no longer hot. Raven picked up the two bowls and returned to the kitchen. He opened the dishwasher and was about to put them in when Hollis suddenly stood up: “You’re lazy to death. It’s just two bowls, and you want to bother the dishwasher.”

He didn’t just speak; he took action, taking the bowls and chopsticks from Raven’s hands and nudging him aside, his mouth and hands busy at the same time: “I said I’d cook the meal and I’d wash the bowls. You thought it was unfair and insisted otherwise.”

As he spoke, he turned on the faucet.

Water splashed everywhere. Amidst the sound of rushing water, he continued: “Back then, you washed once, and the next day you bought a dishwasher. Buy it if you want, but as a result, even a cup or a pair of chopsticks used once has to be thrown in there to be washed.”

When it comes to laziness, Raven has always been a man of action.

“Raven Griffith,” Hollis said earnestly, “have you ever considered that a quick rinse in the sink is more convenient, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly?”

As if to prove his words, as soon as he finished speaking, the two pairs of brand-new bowls and chopsticks were fished out from the sink.

Raven rubbed his nose, his thoughts still lingering on the fact that buying appliances was for the sake of freeing one’s hands. Hearing this, he said without thinking: “Utensils aren’t like clothes; it’s not easy to save up a bunch and wash them together.”

He wasn’t intentionally doing this for Hollis to see; it was just that habit had become nature. Before Hollis moved in, he never needed to consider the matter of washing dishes.

Hollis: “…”

It turns out I was just winking at a blind man just now.

Hollis put the washed dishes on the rack to drain. He rested one hand on the edge of the sink, turning to face Raven, appearing very curious as to where this line of thinking came from.

“When have your clothes ever been saved up and washed in a bunch? Aren’t they always taken off and dry-cleaned, I take them to the dry cleaners for you; the ones hand-washed, I also scrub them for you by hand; even the ones machine-washed, I’m still the one who categorizes them and throws them into the washer. Except for when I have to go on a business trip.”

Raven had a sudden realization. No wonder life had been so troublesome lately; so this was where the problem lay.

He gave a heartfelt smile and sighed: “Hollis, what would I ever do without you?”

Support