Entwined in the Steam

Chapter 3: Might Have Even Called Me Brother Once

The room was warm, with thick carpeting laid down. It was decorated cozily, not at all like a standard hotel suite.

Ethan Hawthorne glanced around, then walked over to the beanbag chair in front of the wide floor-to-ceiling window. He claimed the comfortable spot quite commandingly, half-closed his eyes as he gazed down at the resort view, feeling utterly content and at peace.

Oliver Adler poured a glass of warm water and brought it over to him.

He accepted it with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ethan took a sip and watched as Oliver settled onto the carpet beside the sofa, leaning against it. He picked up a tablet from the small table, clearly not intending to converse further.

Several minutes of silence passed. Ethan set down the water glass. Curiosity got the better of him. "Do you usually stay at home? Does your brother not let you work?"

Oliver Adler didn't look up. He used a stylus to draw on the tablet. "I am working right now."

"Hmm?" Ethan got up and sat on the carpet as well. He peered at the tablet and smiled. "You're a painter?"

Oliver turned his head. "An illustrator."

They were very close now. Ethan could clearly see the fine down on Oliver's face. Once again, he was struck by how truly pale and lovely Oliver was—a non-threatening kind of beauty, like the cold, clear moonlight hanging in the sky. Pure, clean... and it sparked an urge to possess it exclusively...

Sensing something faintly dangerous in the man's gaze, Oliver shifted uncomfortably and returned his attention to his drawing.

Ethan's eyes lingered on Oliver's profile for a moment, then dropped to the tablet. His voice was low. "Could you draw a portrait of me?"

Oliver's stylus paused. "I'm not good at portraits."

"What are you good at drawing, then?"

Oliver held up the tablet. "This kind."

On the screen was a view of the hot springs resort as seen from this height, but rendered like a scene from a comic book—vibrant colors that made one yearn to be there. In the picture was a little chibi-style figure sitting cross-legged, holding a tablet, and on that tablet was an identical picture.

Ethan's gaze lingered on the chibi figure. "You're good at drawing comics?"

Oliver nodded. "More or less."

"Could you give me this picture?"

He refused outright. "No."

"..." Mr. Hawthorne, who had sailed smoothly through his 28 years, was met with such a firm refusal for the first time. He felt a bit put out. "Why not?"

"My brother needs this to put on the website to promote the resort. I can't give it away."

"Alright, then." He tapped the tablet with a knuckle. "Then draw one like this for me."

Oliver retrieved the tablet and looked Ethan over several times, uncertain. "You want this kind of chibi drawing?"

Leaning against the sofa, a slight smile played on Ethan's lips. "Mhm. Tomorrow's my birthday. Consider it my birthday present."

"..."

Ethan caught the odd look in Oliver's eyes and realized they were still practically strangers. Asking for a birthday present outright was rather shameless. He added, "I'm your brother's friend. You used to live in Capitalis when you were little. You might have even called me 'brother' once."

Oliver lowered his head. "I definitely did not."

Ethan stared at the fluffy top of his head. He said casually, "You were eighteen when you enrolled at Cloudhaven University and left Capitalis to come here and be with your brother, weren't you? You were old enough to understand things by then. Hadn't you heard of me?"

Oliver looked up. "How do you know that?"

"Overheard someone mention it."

Back then, twenty-two-year-old Adrian Adler, fresh out of university, had been sent by his father—under the pretext of "tempering"—from Capitalis to Cloudhaven to manage a struggling little company. A year later, his full-blooded younger brother also gave up his place at the capital's top university, enrolled at Cloudhaven University instead, and both brothers left home far behind.

It had caused quite a stir in Capitalis at the time. The great families chattered about it over tea, lamenting the talented Adrian Adler's fate, pitying the premature, frail Oliver Adler, and secretly scorning their seemingly kind but ruthless stepmother.

Ethan had heard Sebastian Sterling and others grumble about it a little. But back then, he was preparing to take over a project abroad and had little mind for other people's family dramas...

Looking at Oliver Adler now, following Adrian to Cloudhaven had clearly been the right choice. He had been raised well. If he'd stayed in Capitalis, with that easily-bullied appearance of his, who knows how miserable his life would have been.

Oliver Adler didn't reply. He went back to his drawing.

Ethan glanced at the top of his head from time to time. He rubbed his fingers together almost imperceptibly, restraining the restless impulse within him. He leaned closer and asked, "Will you draw one for me?"

His voice was very close now, his warm breath seeming to brush Oliver's ear. Oliver tilted his head slightly away and said softly, "Alright."

Ethan smiled, pleased. "Thank you, Oliver Adler."

Oliver's ears felt warm. "You're welcome..."

Ethan watched the pink tinge spreading over the tips of his ears, the smile in his eyes deepening.

Another long stretch of silence followed.

Oliver focused on his drawing. Ethan, sitting beside him, played on his phone. One arm rested casually on the sofa, almost as if he were loosely embracing Oliver.

"Done." Oliver let out a soft sigh of relief and turned. His eyes seemed to hold a sparkle of starlight as he handed over the tablet. "How's this?"

Ethan straightened up and looked at the tablet, still in Oliver's hand. "Let me see."

Oliver's eyelashes trembled. He held his breath lightly.

As if unaware of his tension, Ethan examined the drawing, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Quite accurate. You observed so carefully in just this short time?"

On the tablet was a chibi figure lounging in the beanbag chair. From the clothes and posture to the half-closed eyes and relaxed expression, it was a perfect match for Ethan just moments before.

Oliver looked up, meeting the deep, dark eyes mere inches away. He moved his lips. "I..."

Ethan leaned back a little and smiled. "You have a strong ability to capture a scene. And you draw very well."

He looked down and saved the drawing to his photo gallery.

"Let's exchange Messenger contacts." Ethan offered his phone. "Send the picture to me."

Oliver tapped the Messenger icon on his tablet. "Alright."

Ethan scanned the QR code, sent a friend request, and it was quickly accepted. He soon received an image. He zoomed in and examined it for quite a while before saving it with satisfaction. He said earnestly, "Thank you. This is the best birthday present I've ever received."

Oliver's finger, still on the tablet, paused for two seconds. His voice was very quiet. "Mhm."

Ethan checked the time. It was almost noon. Just then, Sebastian Sterling messaged asking if he wanted to go down for lunch. He stood up. "Time for lunch. Coming down together?"

Oliver didn't move from his spot. "No."

"You're not having lunch?"

"Someone will bring it up."

Ethan chuckled, teasing without malice. "Never stepping out the door, like a young lady raised in a secluded chamber."

Oliver looked up, frowning as he glared at him.

Ethan put on his black overcoat. He reached out and ruffled the hair he'd been thinking about for so long. "So you can look fierce, after all."

The sudden touch made Oliver freeze.

Ethan withdrew his hand quickly. "I'm off."

Mhm. Nice texture. As soft as I imagined.

The door opened, then closed. The warm room was left with only Oliver Adler. He was stunned for a long time before he came back to himself. He pressed his lips together, lowered his head, and created a new canvas. But the stylus tip hovered, unable to form a line.

He wrestled with himself for a while before finally slumping his shoulders in defeat. He opened a private album. An image that looked almost like a photograph appeared—a realistic portrait of the man who had just been sitting beside him, though the aura radiating from his brows seemed even more bold and unrestrained.

Oliver Adler stared at the drawing. He reached up and touched his hair, which had been mussed. He murmured, "Feels a bit... wicked."