Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 68: Slower Than Falling

Chapter 68: Slower Than Falling

The bell above the café door chimed softly as they stepped inside.

It smelled like warm bread and honey. Faint vanilla. Steam curled from behind the counter where a barista, tucked into a beige apron, gave them a quiet nod.

Noel’s eyes scanned the place. Just three small tables inside, each tucked by a window.

Outside, there was a wooden deck shaded by soft vines overhead — one table unoccupied, touched by filtered sunlight and a breeze that smelled faintly of citrus.

"That one," Luca said, nodding toward the vine-draped table. "It feels like you — soft and a little hidden, but worth finding."

Noel gave him a look. "I look like a table?"

"You look like stillness," Luca’s voice was soft. "Like something soft and kind that people don’t always notice unless they slow down."

Noel stared.

Then looked away. "You’re getting dangerously good at this."

"I know," Luca smirked. "Scares me too."

They ordered first. Luca got tomato sandwich and lemonade. Noel picked honey-rosemary toast and a warm peach tea — the kind of thing he didn’t usually order but somehow felt right today.

By the time they sat, the quiet wrapped around them like a comfort neither of them had asked for, but both had needed.

Noel sat back, watching Luca take the smallest sip of his lemonade.

"You’re nervous," Noel said.

Luca coughed a little. "What? No."

"Liar."

"Fine. Maybe a little."

Noel raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because," Luca said, eyes fixed on the edge of his plate, "I want you to like this."

Noel smiled faintly. "I do," he said, his voice quieter than before—like the words had waited a while to be spoken.

Luca looked up.

Noel’s eyes were soft. "I like this. I like... that you waited. That you brought me here. That you didn’t try too hard. You’re just... you."

Luca stared for a second, then leaned back and gave a breathy laugh.

"I have no idea how to respond to that without messing it up."

"Then don’t," Noel said. "Just eat your sandwich."

They did. Quietly at first — bites between soft smiles, sips of tea and lemonade. Every so often their eyes would meet, and neither would say a word.

Until finally Noel asked, "Did you plan all this yesterday? When you were sitting with George?"

Luca wiped his fingers, nodding. "I was panicking internally the whole time."

"You’re not exactly the picnic type."

"Yeah, well... you’re not exactly the club-and-bar type either. I figured I could try something different."

Noel looked at him.

"You didn’t just try," he said quietly. "You got it right."

Luca looked away.

But his smile didn’t fade.

They ate gently, without rush—just them.

When the food was done, neither of them reached for their bags.

Noel played with the empty tea cup between his fingers. "I never thought I’d be here with you."

"Yeah?" Luca asked.

"I mean..." Noel glanced at him. "You were always... this loud, chaotic, casually-shirtless disaster. I just figured you’d burn through people like hours."

"I always thought... someone like you would never slow down long enough to look at someone like me."

"I did," Luca said, voice softer now. "But none of them were you."

Silence.

That deep, head-spinning kind of quiet where the world holds its breath.

Noel blinked, mouth parting slightly. "That was disgustingly smooth."

"I’ve been saving that one."

They both laughed — not loudly, but enough to fill the space between them.

Then Luca added, a little slower this time, "So... do I get a second date?"

"Noel’s gaze lingered on the table for a second too long before his fingers reached for the phone — steady, but slow."

He opened his calendar, and flipped to next week.

"Tuesday," he said, pointing. "Library. After class."

Luca raised a brow. "That’s not a date."

"It is if you bring me coffee."

"...Is it weird I’m actually excited about that?"

"No," Noel said, finally meeting his eyes. "It’s not weird at all."

The plates had been cleared.

The glasses were nearly empty.

But neither of them moved.

The breeze drifted soft over the wooden deck, swaying the hanging leaves just above their heads.

Around them, the world buzzed faintly — footsteps on gravel paths, the chime of the café door, distant laughter from passing students.

But where they sat?

It was quiet.

Not the awkward kind. Not the "we ran out of things to say" kind.

The kind that settles around you gently. Like a favorite blanket. Like belonging.

Luca leaned back in his chair, arms loosely crossed behind his head, head tilted toward the sun. His eyes were closed, but there was a smile playing faint at the corners of his mouth.

Noel sat across from him, knees drawn up slightly, fingers wrapped around his warm cup — empty now, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t holding it for the tea anymore.

"You know," Luca murmured, eyes still closed, "this might be the first time I’ve sat this still for more than ten minutes in years."

"That’s depressing," Noel said.

"That’s me."

Noel let out a soft huff of a laugh.

Luca cracked one eye open. "You really don’t want to leave either, huh?"

Noel shook his head slowly. "Nope."

"I knew it. You like me."

"I like the tea," Noel replied, sipping nothing at all.

Luca grinned wider now. "So you’re telling me I got beat out by some infused peach water?"

"Don’t be jealous," Noel said, setting the cup down. "You’re in my top two."

"Top two?" Luca sat up straighter. "Wait, who’s number one?"

Noel leaned forward just a little, voice teasing. "Depends. Do you count warm pastries as a person?"

"You’re impossible," Luca said, but he was already laughing.

The moment stretched.

Luca’s gaze lingered now — longer, deeper.

And this time, it wasn’t full of jokes or challenges.

It was just... open.

He reached out across the small table, letting his hand rest near Noel’s — not touching, just there.

A silent offering.

Noel’s gaze dropped to Luca’s hand — open, waiting. It wasn’t dramatic. Just still. Just brave.

Slowly, he reached. Their fingers met halfway, brushing.

Noel didn’t speak.He didn’t need to.

Some moments know exactly what they are.

Because sometimes, connection doesn’t need a line of dialogue.

It just needs space to be felt.

Their fingers still rested together on the table — not fully entwined, but not letting go.

The silence had shifted again, softer now, like something had clicked into place.

Luca broke it first, voice low. "So... what kind of music do you actually like? You never play anything in the room, except that Lo-fi."

Noel glanced sideways at him. "I do. You just always have your speakers on full volume."

Luca smirked. "That’s fair."

"Mostly instrumental stuff," Noel said after a beat. "Soft jazz. Lo-fi. Sometimes strings."

"That’s so... you," Luca said, grinning. "You’re like the human version of a rainy Sunday."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Luca nodded. "Rainy Sundays are my favorite. You can do nothing and not feel guilty about it."

Noel tilted his head. "What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to the same song on loop for three weeks and then never again."

Luca gasped dramatically. "How dare you call me out like that?"

"So I’m right?"

Luca laughed, leaning back. "Absolutely. It’s a disease. Right now it’s that one sad synth-pop song that makes no sense lyrically but hits for no reason."

Noel smiled. "Sounds about right."

Another breeze rolled through, rustling the vines overhead. A few petals drifted onto the deck.

Luca caught one absently, twirling it between his fingers.

"What were you like in high school?" Noel asked.

Luca blinked. "Why?"

"I don’t know. Just want to know more."

Luca leaned forward again, placing the small petal in the center of the table. "Honestly? Kinda the same. Loud, reckless. I skipped class a lot. Dated people for the thrill of it. Got in trouble constantly."

Noel raised an eyebrow. "So... no honor roll?"

"Pfft. Please. I was lucky to graduate on time."

"And now you’re here. At one of the best schools in the country."

Luca gave a half-shrug. "People change. Or try to."

Noel was quiet for a moment. Then, "You don’t have to try that hard around me."

That made Luca look at him — really look.

And the tension in his jaw eased, like something unspoken had just been heard.

"I know," he said softly.

Another beat passed.

Noel tapped his thumb gently where their hands touched. "Favorite color?"

"Blue," Luca said. "Yours?"

"Grey."

Luca nodded like he was storing it away somewhere private.

"Last movie you cried over?" Noel asked.

Luca grinned. "Easy. Big Hero 6. That part where—"

"I know the part," Noel said quickly, eyes widening.

"It hurts," Luca groaned, laughing into his hand. "Your turn."

Noel hesitated, then murmured, "Call Me By Your Name."

"Oh," Luca said. "Yeah. That one wrecked me too."

They smiled.

And then, for a long moment, they just watched each other again.

Not nervously.

Not expectantly.

Just... taking each other in.

Learning.

Falling — slowly, quietly, meaningfully.

Luca finally leaned forward again, voice a little rougher now. "I like this. Getting to know you like this."

Noel’s voice was barely audible. "Me too."