Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 69: Still Up, Still Yours

Chapter 69: Still Up, Still Yours

The breeze had cooled.

The shadows on the deck stretched longer now, shifting as the sun began its slow descent.

Luca glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. "Damn. I’ve got class in twenty."

Noel tilted his head. "Evening Econ?"

"Yeah. The one that feels like getting emotionally drained by PowerPoint."

"You chose that elective," Noel reminded him, standing up.

"I was tricked by the course title," Luca grumbled as he followed. "I thought it said ’Economics and Desire,’ but it was *’Economics and Design.’ Very different vibes."

Noel snorted. "You’re unbelievable."

Luca smiled"And yet, here we are. Dating."

"Tentatively dating," Noel said with a smirk. "Remember, this is still week one."

Luca held a hand to his chest dramatically. "You wound me."

Noel just rolled his eyes and held the café door open.

They stepped back onto the sunlit path, walking in step, slower than usual — as if dragging their feet could stretch the afternoon longer.

Neither of them said much.

They didn’t need to.

It was all there — in the slight brushing of shoulders, in the shared glances, in the way their arms swung just a bit closer than usual.

As they neared the science building, Luca exhaled and stopped.

"Guess I have to go be responsible."

Noel smiled. "Shocking."

Luca looked at him — really looked — like he wanted to memorize the moment.

Then, quietly, he asked, "You walking back alone?"

"I was planning to," Noel said.

Luca hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"I’ll text you after class. If you’re still around... maybe we can hang out?"

Noel nodded, voice soft. "I’ll wait I won’t sleep."

Luca stared for a second longer, then, almost reluctantly, turned to go. He didn’t make it more than two steps before Noel called softly behind him.

"Hey."

Luca turned.

Noel’s eyes met his. Steady. Sure.

"Thanks," he said. "For today."

Luca’s grin broke slow and warm. "You can thank me again on our second date."

Noel rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. "Go to class, Luca."

"Yes, Professor Noel."

He jogged backwards for a second, winking before turning the corner and vanishing into the building.

The sun filtered through the trees, brushing gold across his shoulders.

Noel stood there a moment longer.

The sun filtered through the trees, brushing gold over his shoulders. His heart was still beating just a little faster than normal.

He didn’t mind.

He liked the sound of it.

Noel didn’t rush.

He walked with his bag slung low, earbuds in but no music playing — just the faint hum of the campus, and his own thoughts.

Every detail from lunch played like a quiet film behind his eyes.

The way Luca had looked at him — like he was seen.

The way they’d laughed.

The way they didn’t need to speak to feel connected.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long time.

Maybe ever.

By the time he got back to the dorm, the light was already shifting orange, stretching across the floor like melted glass.

He dropped his bag by the desk, then sat on the edge of his bed and just... breathed.

In.

Out.

Still no message from Luca. He figured it was too early — class probably hadn’t even hit the halfway point yet.

So he pulled out his journal — the one he never let anyone see — and flipped to a blank page.

He hesitated.

Then started writing:

"Today felt like something real.

Like I wasn’t pretending to be okay.

Like someone saw me — and didn’t turn away."

A knock pulled him from the page.

But it wasn’t the door.

It was a notification.

**[Luca📱💙]

📸 Snap: An awful photo of his notebook with completely illegible scribbles and a pen mid-fall.

Caption: "This is how much I retained from the lecture. Be proud."

Noel smiled before he even realized he was smiling.

He typed back:

[Noel]

"Impressive. Next time I’ll bring flashcards and moral support."

Seconds later:

[Luca📱💙]

You are the moral support. 😌

I’m leaving soon. Still up?"

Noel set the phone down and leaned back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling, pulse calm but alive.

Still up.

Still waiting.

And somehow, still his.

The thought came uninvited. But he didn’t push it away.

The message stayed unread on the screen, glowing softly beside him.

Noel didn’t type anything else.

He didn’t need to.

He just stared up at the ceiling for a while, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting over his chest where his heartbeat had started doing that thing again — steady but a little too aware.

The dorm was quiet.

Not the kind of silence he used to dread. Not the echo of loneliness.

This was different.

Like the room was waiting too.

He eventually sat up, crossing to the small window where dusk pressed in like ink, seeping into the corners of the sky.

The first stars blinked faint behind the glass. Somewhere down the path, voices drifted — students laughing, someone skateboarding too fast, a group tossing around a frisbee like the day hadn’t ended yet.

Noel stayed still.

Then, without really thinking, he moved to the small mirror beside his desk. Just looked at himself.

His hair was slightly tousled from lying back. His collar was wrinkled. He hadn’t changed since lunch.

He leaned forward.

Smoothed his shirt.

Brushed his hair down, then back up again — indecisive.

"You’re not going on another date," he muttered quietly to himself. "He’s just coming back."

But he still went to his drawer.

Swapped the shirt for something cleaner, something that felt... comfortable but presentable. Like it said I wasn’t waiting, but I’m glad you’re here.

He didn’t even bother with cologne — just washed his hands and face, patting them dry gently before he sat again at the edge of the bed.

The room ticked on.

A page in his journal fluttered from the window crack. The clock blinked 7:51.

Noel checked his phone.

Still online.

Still no knock.

He typed, then erased. Then let the silence speak for him.

[Noel]

Are you on your way yet?

He didn’t hit send.

Instead, he locked the screen again and let the phone rest on his knee.

And waited.

Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

Back in the campus the lecture hall buzzed in that sluggish way it always did near the end of a long session.

Fingers tapped quietly on desks. Someone stifled a yawn. A few heads rested against backpacks, pretending to still be taking notes.

Luca sat near the middle, one leg bouncing under the table.

His notebook was open but mostly blank — just a few lazy scribbles near the top and a doodle that had somehow turned into a crooked cat.

He twirled his pen in slow, distracted circles between his fingers, eyes occasionally drifting to the front where the professor’s voice droned on.

"Now, in next week’s case analysis," the professor was saying, "I want you to apply the model to a shift that occurred in the market last year—think critically about why the demand curve behaved differently than projected."

Luca didn’t hear most of it.

He was thinking about the look on Noel’s face when he smiled. The way he held that empty tea cup like it meant something. The slight tilt of his head when he asked about music.

He was also thinking about what to say when he saw him again.

Next to him, George sat perfectly upright, laptop open, typing with silent speed. Luca glanced at him once, then again when George leaned slightly closer.

"You’ve been smiling at your own notes for the last ten minutes," George muttered, not looking up.

Luca blinked. "Huh?"

George finally glanced over, brow raised. "Who is she?"

Luca let out a quiet laugh under his breath. "It’s not like that."

George leaned back slightly in his chair. "It’s always like that. "You’ve got that dazed, smiling-at-nothing look. either drunk, in love, or both."

"I’m not drunk."

"Which leaves..."

"Shut up," Luca muttered, but the smile he tried to hide only deepened.

George didn’t push further, but something flickered across his face — curiosity, maybe. He tilted his screen slightly and went back to typing.

Luca leaned on his hand, elbow resting on the desk, gaze fixed somewhere near the professor’s tie.

He could feel it — the shift in himself.

Like he was already half out the door, mind running ahead.

Waiting.

Wanting.

He’d never felt this light.

The professor finally closed his laptop and clapped his hands once.

"Alright, that’s it for today. Case study discussion will be posted online. Read before next Tuesday."

Chairs scraped the floor. Bags unzipped. Murmurs filled the hall.

Luca didn’t waste a second — he was already standing, notebook barely stuffed into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder in one smooth motion.

George blinked at him. "What’s the rush?"

"Something better than this," Luca said, already stepping out into the aisle.

George watched him go, eyebrows still slightly raised. "Definitely someone," he muttered to himself.

Luca moved like he was already being pulled toward something—someone—he couldn’t wait to return to.

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