Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 77: Seven Days, Forever

Chapter 77: Seven Days, Forever

Lina’s stylus moved in quick, practiced flicks across the screen, her expression focused, brows slightly furrowed.

She was refining a rooftop ledge, adding shadows and light. The world around her had faded.

Except for Alex.

He sat beside her, posture relaxed but eyes very much not. His coffee sat untouched, hands loosely clasped between his knees.

He wasn’t watching the screen — he was watching her. The way her lips curled ever so slightly when she liked a line. The way her thumb rubbed against the side of her tablet like muscle memory.

She glanced up, maybe sensing it. Their eyes met.

Lina didn’t smile — not right away.

Neither did Alex.

It was the kind of look that held something suspended — something old, something unspoken. A thread stretched too long.

Alex cleared his throat gently. "You’re still amazing at that," he said, voice low. "Every time, it just... surprises me."

She blinked once, then looked down again, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "Thanks," she murmured.

He hesitated, fingers tapping his knee, then said, "Lina—can I ask you something?"

Her eyes flicked up again. "Sure."

"I know things got weird after... you know, before break. I should’ve said something then. About us. About how I felt."

Lina stayed still.

Alex exhaled. "I liked you. A lot. And I thought maybe—before Emily came in—I thought we were heading somewhere."

Lina didn’t look away. But she didn’t interrupt, either.

Alex’s voice dropped. "But now, I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just timing. Maybe it was always meant to be her."

There was a pause. Her lips parted like she might respond, but—

Bzzzt.

Her phone lit up between them on the bench.

Emily: Hey, I just got out! Want to grab lunch? I’ll wait for you

Lina stared at the screen. A small breath caught in her throat.

Alex watched her. He saw the soft shift in her eyes, the pause that wasn’t hesitation, just... something else.

"You don’t have to answer right away," he said quietly.

But she already was. Her thumbs moved quickly. A soft ding confirmed it.

"Emily’s waiting," she said, standing. She avoided his eyes this time. "I’ll see you later?"

Alex nodded, even though everything in him wanted to say wait. "Yeah. Sure."

She slung her bag over her shoulder, tablet tucked to her side. As she walked away, she paused halfway and glanced back.

Her gaze held his for just a second — enough to ask was that goodbye? without ever saying it.

Alex gave a tight smile. "Hey, Lina?"

She stopped.

"You look happy."

She didn’t respond. Not with words. Just a nod. Then she turned, walking away faster this time.

Alex sat alone, the unfinished coffee cooling beside him, the sketch she drew earlier now saved in his gallery — the only version of them that ever quite fit.

Alex didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at where she’d stood. The place her voice still seemed to echo faintly.

The empty space beside him suddenly felt louder than any words she could’ve left behind.

He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, then exhaled — not bitter, not angry. Just... tired.

"Maybe I’m too late," he murmured.

Alex leaned back on the bench, his gaze drifting toward the soft hum of student life beyond the path. Somewhere in the distance, laughter echoed—a world still moving, even as his own felt paused.

Elsewhere the breeze rustled the edge of Lina’s napkin sketch — the one she’d forgotten, the one she never meant to leave.

He didn’t pick it up.

The hallway buzzed with students, most pouring out of lecture halls with tired eyes and sagging backpacks.

Luca stepped out of his class with a dramatic sigh, loosening his collar with exaggerated flair. "Survived," he muttered, tossing a look at George, who just grunted in return, earbuds already in.

Luca pushed through the double doors of the lecture hall with a sigh loud enough to earn a glance from two passing girls.

He took the steps two at a time, eager to get outside— —and then he saw him.

Noel.

Standing just beyond the railing, leaning lightly against the wall with his headphones half-dangling, a coffee in one hand.

His head was tilted slightly as if he was just looking at the clouds—but Luca knew better. He was waiting.

Luca’s heart kicked. He picked up his pace, weaving through students, shoes hitting the pavement fast.

"I survived," he said the moment he reached him, breathless but grinning. "I deserve a reward."

Noel looked over lazily. "A reward for doing the bare minimum?"

"Emotional endurance," Luca said. "That class drained my soul."

"You don’t have a soul," Noel replied, holding out the coffee without looking.

Luca took it like it was sacred. "You remembered my order."

Noel arched a brow. "You say it every time you yawn before a lecture."

Luca sipped, then leaned against the wall beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly. "Still counts."

They stood like that for a moment—shoulder to shoulder, coffee warm in their hands, the noise of the campus around them fading just enough to feel distant.

"So..." Luca turned slightly, smirk playing at his lips. "You ready to sneak off with me again?"

Noel didn’t smile right away. He just looked at him, quiet, unreadable—but his fingers reached out, briefly brushing Luca’s pinky.

"I thought you said you were tired," Noel murmured.

"I said the class was draining," Luca replied. "You’re the recharge."

Noel rolled his eyes. "That was cheesy."

"Then say you liked it."

He didn’t. But he didn’t deny it either.

He just took another sip, eyes flicking to the horizon. Then he whispered, "I liked it."

Luca was mid-sip when Noel’s hand brushed his sleeve, tugging gently.

"Come on," Noel said quietly, eyes not quite meeting his.

Luca blinked. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quieter," Noel replied, already turning, tugging him forward. "You survived your soul-draining class. I’m giving you your reward."

Luca let himself be pulled without resistance, falling into step beside him. "You’re unusually generous today. Should I be suspicious?"

Noel didn’t answer right away. His hand dropped once they rounded the corner of the arts building, but his pace didn’t slow.

Then, casually, like it wasn’t something huge: "Take it as our third date."

Luca stumbled for half a step. "Wait—what?"

Noel glanced sideways, lips twitching. "You counted the walk to the dining hall yesterday. Fair’s fair."

Luca grinned, slow and real. "That wasn’t a date. That was you bullying me into not skipping lunch."

"Still spent it together."

"That’s your standard for a date?"

Noel shrugged. "Time spent. That’s what matters, right?"

They kept walking. The crowd thinned the farther they went, winding through quieter parts of campus—past the language labs, beyond the older brick courtyard where vines curled lazily along weathered walls.

Eventually, they reached a garden trail near the east faculty wing. It wasn’t flashy. No lights strung overhead. No music. Just a curved stone path, the scent of jasmine blooming, and a few benches tucked between low hedges.

Quiet. Private. Perfect.

The moment they stepped off the main path, the world quieted.

No crowds. No rushing footsteps or echoing voices. Just the wind weaving through slender branches, the delicate scent of jasmine in bloom, and the distant hum of life—muted, far away, like a memory.

Luca slowed beside Noel, eyes sweeping over the little trail that wound past low hedges and shaded benches.

The late afternoon light dappled through the leaves, soft gold pooling at their feet.

He breathed in, then out. "It’s beautiful here."

Noel nodded. "I figured you’d like it."

"You found this place?"

"Last semester. One of those days when everything felt... loud." He paused, eyes on the slow sway of the trees. "This place was quiet enough to think. Or not think."

Luca’s gaze lingered on him. "And you brought me here."

Noel glanced at him, something faint and fragile in his expression. "Because I wanted to share it with someone who wouldn’t try to fill the silence."

For a long moment, Luca didn’t speak. He just let the words settle between them, warm and intentional.

They wandered deeper down the path, the sounds of the outside world fading behind them. Their shoulders brushed once, then again. The third time, neither moved away.

At a bend in the trail, they found a small wooden bench tucked beneath a flowering tree. Noel sat first, setting his bag down quietly. Luca followed, their knees brushing in the limited space.

They didn’t speak. Not right away. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it breathed.

A petal drifted down and landed near Luca’s shoe. He nudged it with the toe of his sneaker, then tilted his head toward Noel.

"I used to think dating had to be loud," he said. "Fast. Dinners, parties, weekend trips. Always proving something."

Noel watched him from the corner of his eye. "And now?"

Luca exhaled slowly. "Now I think maybe... the best parts are soft. Easy. Like this."

Noel didn’t answer, but his expression shifted—barely. A quiet melting of tension, the kind that didn’t scream happiness but carried it, quietly, like a secret.

A breeze drifted through, and Noel tugged at his sleeves, almost like a nervous shield, before letting his fingers rest quietly between them.

Luca turned his palm just slightly—enough that their fingers touched again, barely.

Noel let them.

And for a while, that was enough.

Just the sound of leaves, the comfort of shade, and the quiet ache of something new and real taking root.

Their fingers didn’t link right away.

It was just the soft brush of skin against skin—tentative, featherlight. A silent question hanging in the space between them.

Then, slowly, Luca turned his hand.

Noel’s fingers curled—deliberately, without hesitation this time—and met his halfway.

Their palms pressed together, warm and steady, and their fingers interlaced like they’d done it a thousand times before.

No performance. No teasing. Just quiet understanding.

Luca stared at their joined hands, thumb gently stroking across Noel’s knuckle.

"I didn’t think you’d let me," he murmured.

Noel was still watching the path ahead, the way sunlight filtered through shifting leaves. "I wasn’t sure I would," he said, voice low. "But... here, it doesn’t feel too much."

Luca glanced sideways. "It’s not?"

Noel shook his head. "It’s just... enough."

A pause.

Then, after a beat, Noel added, "Sometimes, I forget how to be close without shrinking away. You don’t make me feel like I have to hide anything."

Luca swallowed. That tight, grateful ache returned to his chest.

"I don’t want to be someone you have to shrink for," he said.

Noel’s lips curved faintly, almost like a smile, but softer. He didn’t speak, just tightened his fingers slightly around Luca’s in answer.

They sat like that, hand in hand, under the trembling shadows of the tree.

Wind stirred the petals above them, a few drifting lazily down—one brushing Luca’s shoulder, another settling on the bench beside them.

Luca looked over again. "Can I say something stupid?"

Noel raised an eyebrow. "Do you ever ask first?"

"Fair point." Luca chuckled, then glanced down at their hands again. "But still—if this is what a third date feels like, I don’t want the week to end."

Noel turned his head toward him this time, fully facing him, their shoulders brushing again. The light caught in his lashes, in the quiet curve of his cheek.

"Then don’t waste it," he said gently.

Luca’s heart tugged.

And so, they sat a while longer, fingers woven together, silence stretching comfortably around them—two boys in a shaded corner of campus, trying to make seven days feel like forever.

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