Chapter 4: I hate talkative people as much as I hate tomatoes (Haze's POV)

I wanted to have a conversation with Richard before things became more complicated, so I invited him to sit down with me in the living room. It seemed like he had something to say as well. Taking the lead, I began by stating, "Regarding our living arrangement, I think it's important for us to establish a few ground rules. First and foremost, let's respect each other's privacy. Our rooms, bathrooms, and offices should be separate, and we should only enter the other person's space if given permission." Richard looked at me with a convincing expression and nodded in agreement.

Continuing the discussion, I added, "It's fine if you want to have guests over, but please give me advance notice. I'll do the same for you." Richard remained quiet but nodded again, signifying his acceptance of my suggestion. Then, I brought up a personal matter, saying, "Lastly, I tend to make noise during the night. It's just a part of who I am, and I hope you won't mind." I noticed Richard's surprise at this particular rule, but I didn't really care about what others thought. To confirm his understanding, I asked, "Do you have any suggestions or concerns?"

Richard took a moment to contemplate before his expression suddenly changed. He inquired, "What about the rent? How much do I need to pay?" I hadn't considered that aspect before since this apartment wasn't actually mine, and I had never paid rent. So, I replied casually, "You don't have to pay anything if you can adhere to the rules I suggested." Richard seemed bewildered and struggled to find words. Sensing his confusion, I asked again, "So, nothing else?"

It was clear that Richard was grappling with everything I had just said. After taking a deep breath, he proposed, "I can take care of cooking. If you won't let me pay rent, at least let me contribute by preparing meals." I was impressed by his suggestion; it showed that he wanted a fair and equitable arrangement, which was fine by me. "Okay, you can take charge of cooking, except on the days when the housekeeper is coming. It's settled then. I'm looking forward to tasting your dishes." I said a little bit sarcastically.

As the weeks went by, a growing sense of irritation settled within me whenever I found myself in the presence of Richard, my roommate. It was his persistent insistence on a seemingly trivial matter that grated on my nerves—his unwavering determination to make me eat tomatoes, a food I had always despised.

He almost sees it as some kind of challenge he must complete. Every mealtime became a battleground, as he tried to convince me of the merits of tomatoes. He would go on and on about tomatoes’ nutritional value, their vibrant colors, and their versatility in culinary creations. Yet, no matter how persuasive his arguments were, I just can’t stand tomatoes.

At the start, I really didn’t mind him trying to make me eat tomato, but as it goes on, I started to get annoyed by his insistence. The more he pushed, the more my irritation grew.

It wasn't just about the tomatoes, though. Richard's constant chatter, and his ongoing need for validation and attention, grated on my nerves. His animated conversations and enthusiasm clashed with my reserved nature, leaving me craving moments of silence and solitude. The obvious difference between our personalities intensified my annoyance and made our living together more challenging.

At one dinner, when Richard was cooking, he asked my favorite food. I didn’t think deep just answered “Pasta with meatball”. He beamed to my answer and immediately started to prepare dinner. I must admit, he is a really good cook. The way he handles the ingredients and spices, I am simply impressed.

As I was just about to finish my work for the day, Richard calls me to let me know dinner is ready. When I reached the kitchen, I get a nice smell of meatballs and sauce, but there was something sour smell along with it too. I didn’t dwell on it and sat at the table. Richard brought me a plate of nicely plated pasta with meatballs drowned in sauce. When I was taking the first bite, Richard watches me intently, which made me suspicious of his behavior.

But, when I continue to chew one of the meatballs, there was something juicy, sour, and soft ingredient beside the meat. I immediately threw it out and saw it was a tomato inside that meatball. I went to the toilet to throw everything out. From that incident, Richard stops mixing tomatoes secretly but put them out openly on every breakfast, lunch, and dinner table.