Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 78: More Than a Feeling

Chapter 78: More Than a Feeling

The late afternoon light filtered through the rustling canopy of trees above, casting soft patterns across the concrete bench where Emily and Lina sat.

The campus buzzed faintly in the distance—students leaving classes, laughter somewhere across the lawn—but in this little shaded corner, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

Emily was talking, hands gesturing as she recounted something ridiculous from one of her classes—something about a professor mispronouncing memes calling TikTok "tick-tack."

Lina chuckled once, but her fingers hadn’t moved much across her sketch tab in the last few minutes.

Emily noticed.

She tilted her head, lowering her voice gently. "Hey... you okay?"

Lina blinked, eyes still fixed on the digital canvas. Then, slowly, she set the stylus down.

"You know I always thought Alex and I would end up together?" she said softly, without looking up.

Emily’s smile faltered just slightly. "Yeah... I mean, it kind of felt like that. You two have always been close together."

Lina nodded. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. "He told me. A few days ago. That he liked me."

Emily sat straighter, but didn’t speak. She let Lina go at her own pace.

"I thought I’d be happy. Like finally, right? Like the story I always expected was falling into place but..."

She finally looked up, and the uncertainty in her gaze caught Emily off guard.

"But nothing changed," Lina said. "I waited for the feeling to hit. That spark. That shift. But..."

Emily’s heart was beating louder than it should have.

"Except I feel different when I’m with you," Lina whispered. "And I don’t know when that happened.I didn’t mean for it. But I feel it."

The breeze passed softly through, rustling the pages of Lina’s sketchbook.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Lina’s ear, fingers brushing against her cheek.

Lina closed her eyes at the touch, her shoulders easing like a knot slowly unraveling.

"I tried convincing myself it was confusion." Lina added, voice barely a breath.

"But it never feels that way when I’m with you. When you look at me like you’re looking at me right now—I feel calm, I feel safe And I don’t feel that with him now not anymore."

Emily had always known she felt more. But a part of her had prepared for silence, not this. Not Lina reaching back.

Emily swallowed, her throat tight. "Me too."

Lina looked down for a moment, then back up.

"I don’t want to hurt Alex," she said.

"You’re not," Emily murmured. "You’re just finally being honest. With yourself. With me."

Silence settled again, soft and full. Emily reached over and gently placed her hand over Lina’s, neither pulling nor pressing—just there.

And this time, Lina didn’t pull away.

Her fingers turned slightly beneath Emily’s, curling to intertwine with them. A subtle squeeze—shy, but sure.

They didn’t need to say anything for a moment.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It held something more tender—something unfolding, like the hush before rain.

Emily gave a small smile, eyes not breaking from Lina’s. "We don’t have to figure it all out right now."

Lina nodded. "I just... don’t want to pretend anymore."

"You’re not." Emily’s thumb brushed lightly across the back of Lina’s hand. "You’re doing the hardest thing—choosing to be honest with yourself, even when it’s messy."

Lina’s lashes fluttered. "So what now?"

Emily shrugged gently. "We take it slow. Together at our pace."

Lina didn’t answer right away. But the corner of her lips tugged upward—soft, hopeful, real.

The late afternoon light shifted again, casting golden streaks across the lawn as the breeze whispered past.

For once, Lina didn’t flinch from the stillness.

She just stayed.

There, with Emily.

Hand in hand.

And in that quiet, something unspoken finally settled between them—something not loud or dramatic, but steady. Like the start of something quietly true.

Lina’s voice broke the quiet, barely above a whisper. "Can you walk me to the dorm?"

Emily blinked once, then gave a gentle nod, her hand still wrapped around Lina’s. "Of course."

They stood, their hands slowly slipping apart as they gathered their things—Lina sliding her sketch tab into her tote bag, Emily slinging her jacket over her shoulder. Neither of them spoke right away. There was no rush.

The silence felt different now—no longer hesitant, but calm, like the air after a long-held breath has finally been released.

As they started walking across the tree-lined path, the sun dipped lower, the sky streaked in lavender and soft orange.

Their shoulders occasionally brushed, the small contact grounding in a way neither fully expected.

"You know," Emily began, her voice quieter now, "I always thought I was the one falling harder."

Lina glanced at her, brow raised. "You... thought that?"

Emily let out a breath, almost a laugh. "You’re kind of impossible to read, you know. One second you’re laughing at my dumb jokes, the next you’re sketching like I’ve vanished."

"I do that when I’m nervous," Lina said, smiling softly. "Hiding in art makes more sense than dealing with feelings I don’t understand."

Emily looked at her sideways. "So... was I hard to understand?"

Lina shook her head slowly. "You made it too easy. That’s what scared me."

They stopped at a crosswalk, the soft blinking light casting a red hue across their faces. Lina turned to her fully now, stepping just slightly closer.

"I wasn’t ready to feel safe with someone," she said. "But then you showed up. And you didn’t try to fix me. You just... stayed."

Emily’s chest tightened, her voice barely holding steady. "I wanted to be near you, even when you weren’t sure."

The signal changed. They stepped across the quiet road, still close, still tethered by something invisible but undeniable.

By the time they reached the edge of Lina’s dorm building, the golden hour had faded into a muted dusk.

The lamplight flickered on nearby, casting a soft halo around them as they stopped just beneath the steps.

Lina turned to face Emily again, her voice gentler than before. "Thank you... for today."

Emily searched her face. "For walking you home?"

Lina smiled, gaze lingering. "For waiting when I couldn’t even say what I wanted."

A pause passed between them.

Emily leaned against the railing, hands resting loosely on the cold metal. "I’ll wait as long as you need."

Lina nodded once, stepping closer—not to close the distance entirely, but enough to feel it. "I’m not running anymore."

And before either of them could say something too final, too heavy, Lina reached out—just a small, fleeting touch to Emily’s hand. "I’ll text you?"

"I’d like that," Emily said, her smile slow, quiet.

Lina turned toward the dorm, her steps soft as she disappeared through the door.

And Emily stayed there for a moment longer, watching the glow where Lina had been—her hand still tingling from the smallest, surest touch of the evening.

While Emily stood for a moment longer,somewhere across campus, another heart was reckoning with silence of a different kind.

The dorm room was dim, lit only by the faint bluish glow of Alex’s phone screen and the soft rustle of the ceiling fan above.

He lay sprawled on his bed, one arm behind his head, the other lazily scrolling through his feed.

Memes, campus events, a blurry selfie from one of the freshmen he tutored earlier. None of it really held his attention.

Then he paused.

Lina’s latest story had updated—just a short video of the sky turning gold behind the trees, the kind of thing she always liked to capture, peaceful and quiet.

But it wasn’t the view that held him still. It was the reflection of someone’s silhouette in the frame—just barely visible beside her. Shorter. Familiar. Emily.

Alex didn’t tap it again. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he let the phone rest against his chest, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling above.

A long, slow breath escaped his lips.

"I really was too late," he murmured to no one.

It wasn’t bitter. Just hollow. Like trying to hold onto warmth that had already left the room.

He ran a hand over his face, then up into his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

"I should’ve said something sooner," he muttered. "Back when it mattered."

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t just timing. It was him. The hesitation.

The way he let moments slip, waiting for certainty that never came. And Lina... Lina had never been one to wait for someone to catch up.

The screen dimmed and went black.

He stared into the screen long after it dimmed, catching only the ghost of his own reflection—blurry, like everything he should’ve said.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to chase clarity.

He just wanted to lie there a little longer, in the silence that came with letting go.