Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 49: The Room Felt Different

Chapter 49: The Room Felt Different

The dorm room was still, cloaked in shadows despite the soft glow of the desk lamp. Noel sat at his table, textbooks splayed open before him, pen idle between his fingers. But he wasn’t reading. Not really.

His eyes drifted across the same paragraph for the third time, but nothing stayed.

The ticking of the wall clock was louder than usual. The hum of the air conditioner too constant, too steady. It all made the silence feel more deliberate. Like the room knew he was waiting.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the phone beside his notebook.

Still no response.

He tapped it, unlocking the screen. Luca’s message from earlier sat there:

"On my way soon."

But "soon" had come and gone.

Noel bit his lip, eyes narrowing. He opened their chat, typed "Are you okay?" then stared at the blinking cursor. Seconds passed. He erased it.

Instead, he replied to the old message with a simple:

"You still out?"

A minute passed. Nothing.

He waited. Looked at the clock again—11:23 PM.

Then, without thinking too hard, he tapped the call button.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

Noel let the phone fall back onto the table with a soft thud. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, elbows braced against the wood.

What are you doing, Noel...

He didn’t like this version of himself—waiting for someone, worrying without knowing why. Luca wasn’t his. Not officially. Not emotionally. Not even logically.

And yet, his chest tightened with something sharp.

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping behind him.

Maybe he should just get ready for bed.

But as he walked toward the sink to splash water on his face, his eyes kept flicking toward the door.

Hoping.

Waiting.

Wondering.

He leaned against the sink, hands braced on the cold porcelain. The mirror above him caught his reflection—tired eyes, furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin line.

Noel didn’t recognize himself tonight.

Not because of the way he looked. But the way he felt.

He turned on the tap, cupped water into his hands, and splashed it onto his face. The cold shocked his skin, but it did little to quiet the unrest inside him.

What is this? he asked himself again.

This ache in his chest.

This endless loop of checking his phone.

This sudden weight of silence in a room that used to feel just fine without Luca in it.

Noel had always been the steady one. The logical one. Emotions were something he kept folded neatly beneath his tongue—unspoken, controlled, safe.

But not tonight.

Tonight his thoughts spun in quiet chaos.

He dried his face with the towel, then let it hang loose in his hands. His gaze wandered back toward the desk. His phone. Still no reply. Still no sign of Luca.

His fingers curled tighter around the towel. Why does it matter so much? he thought. Why does it feel like something’s missing when he’s not here?

And it wasn’t just about the movie. Or the silence. Or even the unanswered message.

It was the way Luca made things... lighter. Effortless. The way he made space feel full. The way he laughed, spoke without thinking, teased without apology.

The way he’d sit too close. Laugh too loud. Leave his charger tangled around Noel’s books.

He looked down at the floor. The spot where Luca usually kicked his shoes off. Empty.

Noel exhaled shakily.

It wasn’t just about the movie.

It wasn’t even just about tonight.

He realized it then—what had been slowly creeping in over days, weeks, moments stitched together like quiet confessions. Somewhere along the way, his feelings had changed.

And maybe he wasn’t ready to say it aloud...

But in the silence, he could feel it everywhere.

I miss him.

Not just because he’s not here.

But because when he’s not here... the world feels less alive.

He blinked hard, forcing the thought back down.

Just then, a soft ping broke the silence.

Just then, a sound broke through the silence.

Not the phone.

But a door shutting downstairs.

Noel’s brows drew together as he moved quietly toward the window. He pulled the curtain aside just a little—enough to see down the narrow street in front of the dorm entrance.

The streetlamp flickered. A car idled briefly, engine purring, before pulling away.

And there he was.

Luca.

Leaning slightly on the edge of the sidewalk, hair tousled, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket. The other raised in a casual wave to the guy behind the wheel.

Noel squinted. He didn’t recognize the car. Or the driver. But the way Luca laughed—head tilting back a little, hand brushing through his hair—something in Noel’s chest twisted.

He watched a moment longer.

Luca turned toward the dorm entrance and started up the steps, swaying just enough to reveal the truth Noel had already begun to suspect.

He was drunk.

The door downstairs creaked open. Footsteps—staggered, familiar, and slow—climbed up the narrow stairwell.

Noel stepped back from the window.

He didn’t return to the desk.

Didn’t sit on the bed.

He stood.

Right there, in the doorway to their room.

Back straight. Arms loosely crossed.

Waiting.

The knob turned.

The door opened.

Luca stepped in, head low, hoodie half-zipped, cheeks slightly flushed. He kicked the door closed behind him without looking up.

Then he did.

His eyes met Noel’s.

He froze.

"...Hey," he said, voice rough and quieter than usual—like he knew the weight in the room already.

Noel didn’t answer.

Not at first.

He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes unreadable under the low dorm light. The silence between them wasn’t loud—but charged.

Luca shifted, letting his back rest against the closed door. His smile tried to lift, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

His hoodie hung open, one side slipping off his shoulder. His hair was a mess, still damp at the edges from the wind or maybe sweat. His cheeks were flushed — not from the cold, but from the drinks. And his eyes...

They flicked up and found Noel.

Standing in the doorway. Silent. Still. Eyes sharp despite the hour.

Luca scratched the back of his neck, chuckled softly. "You’re still up?"

Noel didn’t answer.

Luca’s tongue wet his bottom lip. "The room felt... weird without you."

Still, Noel didn’t speak. His gaze didn’t soften either.

"I texted," Luca added. "You didn’t reply."

His voice dropped a little at the end, uncertain. Like that silence had stung more than he expected.

Noel finally moved. Not much — just a shift of weight from one foot to the other. His arms stayed crossed.

"I saw your message."

Luca blinked, a bit slowly. "But you didn’t answer."

"I didn’t feel like it."

The words weren’t cruel. Just honest. Flat.

Luca leaned his head back against the door. Closed his eyes for a breath. Then looked at him again, softer this time.

"Niko called," he said quietly. "Right when I was checking my phone. It wasn’t planned or anything. I just... didn’t want to sit here. Alone."

The way he said that—alone—it wasn’t accusatory. It was just... lonely.

Noel’s jaw tensed. He looked away.

"I didn’t think I’d stay that long," Luca continued, his words slower now, slightly slurred at the edges. "But then music started. Drinks kept coming. And I guess—" He gave a short laugh. "—I got swept into it."

He took a step forward, swaying just slightly. His eyes softened again.

"I didn’t mean anything by it."

Noel’s arms fell from his chest, but he didn’t step back.

"You’re drunk," he muttered, glancing down briefly. "You should sleep."

But Luca didn’t move. Not yet.

"Noel," he said, almost too gently.

Noel looked up again. Their eyes met. There was something raw behind Luca’s. A little bit of the boy he was when no one else was watching. Just... Luca.

"The room’s just different without you."

Noel blinked.

And for a second, his heart did that thing again — the tiny, traitorous flutter he was learning to hate.

He looked away. "You smell like beer."

Luca grinned, faint but real. "You missed me."

"I didn’t."

"You’re lying."

"I’m not."

Luca swayed again, a little clumsy now. "Can I sit before I fall?"

Noel sighed, moved to the side. "Just don’t throw up."

Luca stumbled past him with a sheepish grin, landing half-on his bed, half-slouched. He looked up, cheek against the pillow.

"You definitely missed me."

Noel rolled his eyes — but there was the smallest, smallest tug at the corner of his lips.

"I’ll get you water."

As he turned away, Luca whispered just loud enough to hear.

"...Missed you too."

Noel returned with a glass of water, the rim still sweating from the kitchen tap.

Luca was curled up on his bed now, one arm flung above his head like he couldn’t decide if he was cold or just exhausted. His hoodie was twisted, the collar pulled slightly to one side, revealing a line of skin just beneath his neck. The flush hadn’t faded from his cheeks.

Noel stood beside the bed for a second, watching him.

Then he knelt.

"Sit up," he said quietly.

Luca groaned, rubbing his eyes before blinking at him. "You’re bossy when you care."

"I’m bossy always," Noel muttered, trying to push the glass into his hand.

Luca took it, their fingers brushing. Noel ignored the spark.

"You didn’t have to wait up," Luca said after a long sip. "Could’ve just gone to bed."

"I wasn’t waiting," Noel replied, voice even.

Luca smiled, water still caught on his lips. "Liar."

Noel sat back against the bedframe, exhaling. He didn’t answer.

For a moment, the room was quiet — the type of quiet that comes after too many words and too many feelings.

Luca placed the empty glass on the bedside table, then let himself fall backward again, eyes still on Noel.

"Are you mad?" he asked softly.

Noel didn’t look at him. "No."

"But disappointed."

Noel’s jaw flexed.

Luca shifted onto his side, his voice low and raw now. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t matter."

Noel turned to him at that. Just a little.

"I didn’t say I felt that way."

"You didn’t have to." Luca’s lips tugged faintly. "You looked like it."

Noel stared at him — at the mess of him, the boy who once seemed to belong everywhere, now looking like he was trying to find a corner to stay still in.

"You should sleep," Noel said again, standing up.

Luca watched him move toward his desk, eyes lidded with sleep.

"Noel."

Noel paused mid-step.

"Don’t stay mad at me tomorrow."

He didn’t turn around. "I won’t."

"Promise?"

Noel hesitated. Then nodded once. "I promise."

Luca smiled at the ceiling. "Good. I like it better when you talk to me."

Noel didn’t say anything to that. He sat down quietly at his desk, flipping open a book he wouldn’t read tonight.

"And just before sleep stole Luca’s voice, Noel heard it—

soft, slurred, sincere.

’I like it better when you’re here.’

And for once... he didn’t try to deny it."

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