Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 50: Noticing You

Chapter 50: Noticing You

Morning.

The blinds did little to block the sunlight spilling across the room. Golden lines sliced the space between the beds, crawling across crumpled sheets and a body still half-asleep.

Noel stood in front of the mirror, buttoning his shirt with calm precision. His collar was crisp, hair already brushed, backpack leaning by the door like it had been waiting all night. He glanced once in the reflection—toward the bed across the room.

Luca hadn’t moved.

But then—

A low groan escaped from the heap of blankets.

Noel turned slightly. "Morning."

Luca’s voice came out rough, like sand scraping the back of his throat. "What time is it?"

"7:52."

"Kill me."

Noel raised a brow, pulling his tie tight. "You said the same thing last time you partied."

Luca squinted, arm flung over his eyes. "I said a lot of things last night."

"That’s true," Noel said, lips twitching. He opened the drawer and tossed a small packet on the side table. "Paracetamol. Take it before your head falls off."

Luca peeled open one eye, blinking slowly at the sight. "You’re an angel."

"I’m a schedule addict with no time for hungover roommates."

Still—he waited until Luca sat up, groaning again as he reached for the pills and the leftover water from last night.

Noel lingered at the door now, one hand on the handle.

"I’ve got International this morning," he said. "You don’t have anything till noon, right?"

Luca nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just Business at one."

"I left cereal on the desk if you’re hungry."

Luca looked over, noticing the bowl he hadn’t seen until now.

Noel’s hand hovered on the doorknob.

Then he added, voice soft, almost like he didn’t mean to say it:

"Don’t sleep the whole day again. I might not say it, but I notice."

Noel’s hand stayed on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it.

Luca looked up slowly, the pill half-melted on his tongue, his fingers still curled around the glass of water. That sentence—so casually said, so gently placed—landed like something heavier.

His voice cracked just a little. "You notice, huh?"

Noel didn’t look at him directly, just kept his eyes on the door. "I’m not blind."

A dry laugh escaped Luca. "Could’ve fooled me. Thought you stopped noticing a while ago."

Now Noel turned. Just slightly. His brow creased. "Luca..."

"I mean," Luca cut in, eyes fixed on the blanket twisted at his waist, "you leave like clockwork. Never ask where I am. Barely talk anymore unless I’m in your way. But now you notice?"

Noel’s jaw tensed. "What do you want me to do? Keep tabs on you like a babysitter?"

"I didn’t ask for that." Luca looked up. "But maybe don’t look at me like I’m a stranger."

That hit. For a beat, silence filled the space between them.

Noel’s hand slipped from the knob.

He took a step back toward the center of the room, toward Luca—but not too close.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he said, quieter now. "I just... noticed the bed untouched until noon. You don’t say anything unless I ask. I noticed. That’s all."

Luca nodded slowly. "Cool. Noted."

"You don’t make it easy, Luca."

"I wasn’t trying to make it hard."

Another pause.

Then Noel sighed. The stiffness in his shoulders softened just slightly.

"You hungry?"

Luca blinked. "That a peace offering?"

"More like a warning. Eat it before it gets soggy."

Luca let out a soft laugh, rubbing his temple. "You’re such a weirdo in the morning."

Noel turned halfway toward the door again. "You’re worse when you’re hungover."

Luca watched him for a beat longer, the air thick but not as sharp now.

"Hey," he said, voice low, just before Noel turned the knob, "you notice... that’s enough."

Noel didn’t look back, but a small shift in his shoulders said he heard it.

The door clicked shut behind Noel, and for a moment, the room was still again—too still.

Luca leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the glass of water still loose in his grip. He stared at the breakfast tray Noel had left on the edge of the desk.

A bowl of oatmeal, apple slices fanned out in neat little curves, and a single packet of honey laid on the side.

He scoffed under his breath. "He really went full domestic."

Still, his stomach growled like a traitor, so he dragged himself upright, carried the tray back to his bed, and sat cross-legged with the blanket over his lap.

He ate slowly—methodically. Bite after bite, like each spoonful might pull him back from whatever haze last night had left in its wake.

His head throbbed, dull and constant. But it wasn’t the hangover that bothered him most.

He picked up his phone.

Missed calls — 6 from Kian, all between 2:03 and 3:12 AM.

A single missed call from Niko, timestamped just after midnight.

And one message:

> "Just checking. Text me when you’re up." —Kian.

Luca stared at the screen for a moment. His thumb hovered over the reply button, then drifted away.

He tossed the phone face down on the bed and leaned back against the wall, head tilted upward.

Kian had dropped him off last night. He remembered the car ride—quiet, the tension thick between them after the kiss, after everything he let happen.

But now, in the soft glow of morning light slanting through the blinds, it all felt hazy. Off.

Regret twisted somewhere low in his chest.

He let out a breath, slow and tired, ruffling the ends of his hair.

His gaze drifted to Noel’s empty bed. The sheets were neat. Tucked. As always.

But he remembered the way Noel had stood in the doorway, the way his voice softened, how he’d said he noticed.

Noel never used to notice. Not like that.

And yet...

"Of all the days," Luca muttered to himself, dragging a hand down his face.

He looked back at his phone. It lit up again with a new notification—this time from the hangout group.

But he didn’t check it.

He just stared at the ceiling, oatmeal forgotten on the tray beside him.

Luca stared at his phone again.

The light blinked once more. The same message from Kian still sat unopened, like it was waiting for him to stop pretending he didn’t care.

He reached for it, thumb hesitating over the screen.

He didn’t owe Kian anything.

Not anymore.

And yet...

He tapped the message.

Read it once. Twice. Let it sit in his chest a little longer.

Then, finally, he typed.

> Luca:

Thanks for the ride.

I got home safe.

He paused. His finger hovered over the send button.

Too cold?

Too... final?

He backspaced the second sentence.

Typed again.

> Luca:

Thanks for the ride.

Sorry about last night.

He stopped again.

A beat.

Then, he added one last thing.

> Luca:

You didn’t deserve to be part of my mess.

And sent.

The message flew off. Three check marks. Delivered.

He tossed the phone aside again, this time with finality, and let himself fall back onto the bed.

The silence hit harder than he expected.

Because now that it was sent...

He didn’t want Kian to reply.

Not yet.

He wasn’t ready for the answer.

Hours later, in the sterile chill of the lecture hall the room buzzed with low voices and the scratch of pens.

Professor Johnson voice echoed through the space, layered with slides about international markets and currency fluctuations.

Noel sat at the front row, pen in hand, notes on his desk — but his eyes didn’t follow the board.

His brows furrowed in deep focus... but not on the economy of Eastern Europe.

He tapped his pen once. Then again. Then stopped altogether.

Luca’s face from last night flashed in his mind. That disheveled smile. The scent of alcohol mixed with whatever cologne he always wore.

The way he leaned against the door, trying to act like everything was fine — like he didn’t leave Noel waiting the entire night.

"I texted you... you didn’t reply."

Noel’s jaw clenched slightly.

He had seen the message. He just... didn’t know what to say.

Not when his chest was tight with something he didn’t know how to name. Not jealousy. Not anger.

Something heavier. Quieter. Something that burned slowly at the edges of his thoughts.

"Mr. Noel?"

The professor’s voice snapped him back. He blinked, straightened his posture.

"Yes, sir?" he said quickly, trying to clear the fog in his head.

Professor Johnson gave a patient smile. "I was asking what factors influence the rise of a nation’s currency. You seemed ready to answer."

Noel’s eyes flicked to the board. The words blurred slightly.

Then he exhaled and gave a perfect response. Calm. Sharp. Collected.

The professor nodded in approval and moved on.

Noel sank back in his seat, gripping the pen again.

But his mind... drifted right back to Luca.

He could recite currency policies blindfolded. But he couldn’t explain why Luca’s silence still echoed louder than Adedayo’s lecture.

Why did it hurt so much to care this way?

The classroom emptied with a steady shuffle of footsteps and closing folders. Noel slipped his notes into his bag, his fingers moving slower than usual.

His mind still lingered in two places — the weight of the lecture and the ghost of last night.

As he stepped outside, the midday sun filtered gently through the trees, casting dappled light over the campus benches.

There, near the tree-lined path, Alex sat with his legs crossed and his laptop perched on one knee.

He was focused, earbuds in, typing rapidly, lips moving silently as if reading something to himself.

Noel walked over and dropped down beside him with a sigh.

Alex looked up, pulling out one earbud. "Survived another international business lecture?"

"Barely," Noel muttered. Then glanced around, scanning the walkway. "Where’s Lina?"

Alex’s fingers froze over his keyboard. His eyes flickered away for a beat too long. "She’s with Emily."

Noel didn’t miss the pause. Nor the subtle shift in Alex’s jaw.

"Emily, huh?" Noel said, leaning back against the bench, squinting at the sky like he was just making conversation. "She’s... persistent."

"She’s loud," Alex replied without looking up, returning to his screen. "And she flirts like she’s trying to win a contest."

Noel smirked. "I thought you said she was just being playful."

"That was last week," Alex muttered.

The silence between them stretched, filled with a quiet understanding.

Noel tilted his head slightly. "You know she asked for Lina’s number, right? Got it, too."

Alex’s jaw tensed again. "Yeah, I noticed."

A bird chirped somewhere above them, and the rustle of leaves danced in the soft wind.

"You ever think of telling her?" Noel asked quietly, not pushing, just placing the words gently between them.

Alex didn’t answer for a moment. Then he closed his laptop with a quiet snap.

"I don’t play that fast," he said. "She knows I’m into her. Or maybe she doesn’t. But if she can fall for someone like Emily just from one meeting, then maybe I don’t know her like I thought."

Noel looked at him. "Or maybe you’re just afraid."

Alex turned to him, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "Says the guy who’s clearly been off all morning."

Noel huffed a small laugh but didn’t deny it.

They sat in companionable silence, two quiet storms brewing under calm skies.