Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 70: The Room We Found Each Other

Chapter 70: The Room We Found Each Other

The sky had dimmed into that early evening blue — soft, calm, the kind that lingered behind campus buildings like a secret.

Luca walked with his hoodie tugged halfway up, one earbud in, music low.

Not even halfway through the track, he tugged it out again. He couldn’t focus. His mind was already two buildings ahead.

He passed a vending stall near the quad and hesitated.

His fingers curled tighter around the strap of his bag, but something about the glow of the fridge light — the rows of bottled teas, sodas, and neatly wrapped snacks — slowed him down.

He stepped in.

It was a quiet corner shop, tucked between a print center and an empty tutoring lounge. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up from her phone.

Luca scanned the rows.

Then, with more care than anyone might expect from him, he picked a bottle of peach green tea.

He remembered Noel sipping it during lunch—silent, steadying himself with sips like it anchored him. That image stuck with Luca, quiet but vivid.

Then a small packet of almond biscuits.

Not fancy — just enough sweetness. The kind you eat while sitting close, passing the time with no pressure.

The kind that made you feel like you belonged—even for a few minutes.

And maybe — just maybe — something that said:

I remembered. I paid attention. I care.

He paid in cash, nodding politely to the woman, and stepped out into the fading light again.

By the time he reached the dorm, his heart had started doing that thing again — a slow thud, like anticipation in the ribs.

He paused just outside the door.

Took a breath.

Ran a hand through his hair.

Then lifted the bottle slightly in his right hand — like a quiet offering — and opened the door.

The door creaked open. Soft, almost apologetic.

Noel didn’t look up.

At his desk, a book lay open—his eyes scanning the same paragraph for the third time.

The moment the door shifted, though, his shoulders lifted just slightly — a barely-there intake of breath.

Luca stepped in, his presence familiar now, easy — and yet tonight, it felt heavier somehow.

In his hand: the bottle of peach green tea. A small paper bag folded at the top.

He didn’t speak at first. Just dropped his bag by the wall and stood for a second longer, eyes on Noel, watching how the soft light from the desk lamp brushed against his cheek.

Noel finally glanced over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward just slightly. "You took your time."

Luca smirked faintly. "Lecture ran over."

Noel didn’t reply right away. His gaze dipped to the tea, then back up.

Luca stepped closer and held it out.

"You didn’t eat anything after lunch," he said. "Thought you might want this."

Noel looked at it for a beat too long.

Then reached out slowly, fingers brushing against Luca’s as he took the drink.

The contact lingered.

Neither of them moved away too fast.

Noel cracked the lid open and took a sip, eyes still on Luca.

"...It’s the same one," he said quietly.

"I remembered," Luca replied.

A small silence followed — the kind that didn’t need filling.

Then Luca pulled the small snack bag from his hoodie pocket and placed it between them on the desk.

"These too. Figured you might like something sweet."

Noel looked down, then back up. His voice was gentler now. "You didn’t have to."

"I know," Luca said. Then, without hesitation: "But I wanted to."

That landed deeper than either of them expected.

Noel leaned back slightly in his chair. His posture relaxed, but his eyes never left Luca’s.

"I’m still trying to figure out what this is," Noel said, honest, careful.

"So am I," Luca said, stepping just a little closer. "But I know I don’t want to stop."

Noel’s fingers curled loosely around the tea bottle.

"You’re terrible at math," Noel murmured.

Luca blinked. "What?"

Noel’s eyes softened. "But you remembered my favorite drink. That’s something."

Luca chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "High praise coming from you."

They stood there a moment longer, not rushing. Just letting the quiet settle between them like something earned.

Then Noel reached into the snack bag, pulled out one of the almond biscuits, and held it out.

"Want one?"

Luca blinked. "A peace offering?"

Noel’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. "A shared one."

Luca took it.

Their fingers touched again — that same slow graze.

The warmth of Noel’s fingers lingered in the handoff, subtle but grounding.

And for a moment, nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

The almond biscuit crumbled slightly in Luca’s fingers as he bit into it, catching a few crumbs with a quiet laugh.

"Okay," he said between bites, "this is actually good."

"Told you," Noel said, half-curled in his desk chair, socked feet pulled up on the edge. "You always judge snacks before trying them."

"I have trust issues," Luca replied. "Especially with things that come in paper bags and smell deceptively healthy."

Noel took another sip of his tea, eyes watching Luca over the bottle. "Maybe your instincts are just bad."

"Or maybe you’re ruining me with comfort food and emotional honesty."

That earned him a quiet snort.

The lamp cast warm gold across the desk, softening every edge between them. The silence wasn’t awkward — it was easy now. Stretchable. Safe.

Luca sat on the floor with his back against the bed frame, long legs stretched out like he wasn’t planning to move anytime soon.

His hoodie was bunched slightly at the shoulders. He looked completely at home in a way that felt... new.

He reached for another biscuit but paused.

Then turned his head just slightly.

"I was thinking," he said, voice softer now. "About the second date."

Noel’s head tilted. "Already?"

"Well, I don’t want to lose momentum," Luca smirked. "We have a week, remember?"

Noel set the tea down and folded his arms loosely. "Alright. Let’s hear it."

Luca didn’t speak right away. His fingers fidgeted with the snack wrapper.

"I don’t know what you’d call it," he said slowly, "but there’s this rooftop garden near the upper dorms. Quiet. No one really goes up there this time of year."

Noel blinked. "Wait, the old observatory deck?"

Luca nodded. "Yeah. I thought maybe... we could go up there tomorrow. Watch the sky or something. I could bring music. Or not. Just us."

Noel didn’t answer at first.

Then a soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You’re seriously trying to outdo yourself already?"

"I’m just saying," Luca said, tone mock-serious, "the first date involved food, drinks, a walk, and at least three heart-stopping gazes. The bar is high."

Noel laughed under his breath. "You’re unbelievable."

"But did I do good?" Luca asked, quieter this time.

Noel leaned his cheek against the back of his chair, looking at him.

"Yes," he said simply. "You did good."

They fell quiet again — not because they ran out of things to say, but because some moments don’t need words.

And in that shared silence, the walls between them faded just a little more.

The clock ticked softly in the background.

Somewhere outside, a night breeze brushed the windows, stirring the thin curtain with a faint whisper.

At some point, Noel drifted from his desk chair to the bed. Now he sat tucked into the headboard, legs folded, eyes still tracing Luca.

The desk lamp still glowed faintly, casting quiet gold across the room.

Luca sat on the floor beside the bed, arm propped up on the edge, cheek resting lazily against it.

He had been talking — something about playlists, or the difference between real constellations and the ones on astrology apps — The sound of his voice drifted in and out, a murmur beneath the hush of the room.

His words blurred with the shadows shifting against the wall.

Noel glanced down.

Luca’s lashes had stilled. His lips slightly parted, breaths slow and even.

Gone.

He fell asleep mid-sentence.

Noel didn’t move right away. He just... watched.

It was strange — Luca, who never stopped moving, never stopped being loud, now completely still.

His hand had fallen across the sheets, fingers loosely curled just beside Noel’s leg.

His whole body seemed softer in sleep, like the bravado melted off with his consciousness.

Noel let out a slow breath, barely audible.

He reached forward and gently, gently tugged the pillow from behind him, then shifted down beside Luca, letting it rest between them on the bed’s edge.

With careful hands, he nudged Luca’s arm, barely brushing him. "Hey."

Luca didn’t stir.

"Luca," he said again, softer this time.

Still nothing.

A tired smile touched Noel’s lips. "Of course."

He slid off the bed, crouched beside him, and nudged his shoulder again — this time with a little more weight. Luca shifted, blinking once, then twice.

"Huh?" he muttered, voice gravelly with sleep.

"You fell asleep," Noel said quietly. "Come on. Don’t sleep on the floor."

Luca blinked again, groggy. "Did not."

"You did. Mid-sentence. Something about constellations and goat signs."

Luca let out a groan as he sat up slightly, rubbing his face. "It was Capricorn. And I was making a point."

"You made your point—with a snore."

Luca smiled, eyes barely open. "You’re hilarious."

"Get up."

Luca staggered slightly, half-stumbling into the edge of the bed. Noel reached out and caught his arm without thinking, steadying him.

Their eyes met in that brief space — sleep-dazed gaze meeting steady calm — and something in both of them stilled.

Then Noel tugged the covers back, nudging him toward the bed.

"Just lie down. You’re hopeless."

Luca flopped down without protest, one arm thrown over his eyes. "Thanks, nurse."

Noel shook his head, pulling the blanket up loosely over him.

As he turned back to his own bed, Luca’s voice floated out again, softer, warm with drowsiness.

"Noel?"

"Yeah?"

"Today was really good."

Noel paused.

Then glanced over his shoulder.

"...Yeah. It was."

Luca didn’t say anything else.

But Noel stayed awake for a little while longer — listening to the soft rhythm of his breath, to the stillness that had found them, somehow, like it belonged here.

And when he finally climbed into his bed across the room, one thought lingered—soft as a promise.

Whatever tomorrow brings, it will begin from here—from this quiet, messy, beautiful middle ground they’d found.