Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 184: The Night We Stayed

The first drops fell like whispers, brushing Noel’s cheek.

He tilted his head up, watching the clouds gather, darker now, heavy with promise.

The air smelled of salt and impending rain.

"Luca." His voice cut through the quiet surf. "We need to head back. Now. If we hurry, we’ll make the train."

He tugged Luca’s hand, firm, angling them toward the boardwalk.

But when he stepped forward, the pull didn’t follow.

Luca’s grip stayed tight, a stubborn anchor in the sand.

Noel turned, a thin crease forming between his brows. "Come on. Don’t be difficult. Two hours—if we leave now, we’ll get home before midnight."

Luca stood planted in the wet sand, rain slicking across his hair, dripping down his cheek.

His shirt was slung over his shoulder, a reckless grin tugging at his lips. "Why rush? We’ve got the whole night."

Noel’s brow furrowed. "The night, and no dry clothes, no bed, no—"

"Guest rooms," Luca cut in, shrugging as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. "It’s a beach town. People rent out places everywhere. We’ll find a spot."

"That’s not the point." Noel’s voice sharpened, edged with real concern. "We’re soaked. We’ll get sick. You’ll catch a cold."

His eyes flicked to Luca’s bare chest, where rain rolled over the sharp line of his collarbone.

Luca only smirked, stepping closer until the warmth of his body was a tangible force against the chill.

Water ran down his shoulders, glinting in the thin, grey light. "So what? You’ll take care of me, won’t you? Play nurse."

Noel exhaled sharply through his nose, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "You’re utterly impossible."

"And you like me that way," Luca shot back, tugging on his hand again—not toward the station this time, but deeper into town, where the streets curled with soft, welcoming light.

Noel hesitated, jaw tight, rain darkening the fabric of his hoodie, his hair sticking damp to his forehead.

He looked like every part of him wanted to argue, to enforce logic and reason.

But his shoulders dropped with a long, surrendering sigh.

He couldn’t deny the pull, the simple desire to let the night unfold.

"Fine," he muttered, the word almost lost to the patter of rain. "But if you end up shivering and sneezing all night, don’t you dare blame me."

Luca’s grin was victorious, though softer now, almost relieved. "Deal."

They walked fast through the deepening rain, shoes splashing puddles across the packed sand.

Luca’s shirt stayed slung on his back, forgotten, while Noel tugged his hood tighter, the contrast between them almost comical—one recklessly embracing the storm, the other practicality personified, yet bound together by a linked grip neither was willing to loosen.

When the first sign of a guesthouse flickered in warm yellow down the street, Noel gave in fully, his hand tightening around Luca’s. "That one. We’re going there. And I mean it, Luca. No arguments."

Luca leaned close, his shoulder bumping Noel’s, water dripping from his dark lashes as he smirked. "Who’s arguing? Lead the way, worrywart."

The guesthouse door swung open with a sharp creak, letting in a gust of wet, chilly air and two very damp boys.

Water dripped from their clothes and hair, pooling fast against the worn welcome mat.

The receptionist—an older woman with sharp, knowing eyes and a thick wool sweater—lifted her gaze from her ledger.

She blinked slowly at the sight of them, rain-soaked and slightly breathless.

"Rooms?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of ceremony.

"Yes," Noel answered instantly, tugging at his hoodie sleeves where they clung unpleasantly to his arms. "One room. Just for tonight."

"See?" Luca muttered under his breath, his grin shameless. "Told you. Knew we’d find one."

Noel shot him a look that could have cut glass. "Not another word," he hissed.

The woman scribbled something on her notepad, her pen scratching in the quiet room.

She slid a heavy, old-fashioned key across the wooden counter. "Second floor, last door on the left. Towels are inside. Try not to ruin the floors." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Noel bowed his head slightly, polite even while dripping. "Thank you. We’ll be careful."

Luca, on the other hand, winked, charm undimmed by his drowned-rat appearance. "Promise we’ll be on our best behavior."

The woman raised one unimpressed brow.

Noel groaned inwardly, grabbing the key and dragging Luca toward the stairs before he could add anything else to mortify them further.

Their shoes squeaked on the narrow, carpeted staircase.

At the room, Noel unlocked the door with brisk, efficient movements.

It swung open to reveal a small but clean space—a double bed with a simple quilt, a wooden wardrobe, and curtains drawn against the worsening storm.

Noel stepped in first, scanning the room with a practical air.

He tossed the key onto the nightstand with a soft clink and turned just in time to see Luca peel off his soaked jacket, letting it drop with a wet splat onto the floorboards.

"Don’t you dare," Noel snapped, pointing at the growing puddle. "Towel. Now. Before you ruin the place."

"Yes, boss," Luca drawled, though he did toss the jacket onto a nearby chair instead.

He ruffled his wet hair with his fingers, shaking droplets everywhere like a dog.

Noel narrowed his eyes, already moving to fetch towels from the bathroom.

He tossed one straight at Luca’s chest. "Dry off. Properly. And then put on something warm. If you get sick, I am not listening to you complain for a week straight."

Luca caught it lazily, grin never fading. "You worry too much. It’s just a little water."

Noel’s reply was sharp, but his voice betrayed a softer, fond edge. "Because someone has to. You certainly won’t."

For a beat, the only sound was the rain against the window and the soft rustle of towels.

Luca watched Noel as he rubbed his own hair dry, his dark hoodie clinging to his shoulders.

The frantic energy of their dash from the beach began to fade, replaced by a quiet intimacy.

"Fine," Luca said at last, his voice low but still teasing. "But I’m only behaving because you asked so nicely."

Noel snorted, lips tugging upward despite his best efforts to look stern. "Good. Now maybe dry the floor you just ruined."

Luca groaned dramatically, flopping onto the bed with his towel. "Slave driver."

Noel shook his head, but when he glanced back, the corners of his mouth curved into something unguarded—fond, tired, but deeply content.

By the time Noel had wrung out his sleeves in the bathroom sink, the storm’s fury had softened into a steady patter.

Returning, he found Luca sprawled across the bed, elegance ruined by the fact he was still damp.

"You’re impossible," Noel muttered, tossing the abandoned towel at his face.

"Mm, what a warm welcome," Luca mumbled, unmoving.

"Get up. You’re getting the sheets all wet."

But Luca only rolled onto his back, still grinning lazily. "Sheets dry. You, on the other hand... you look like you’re about to combust from sheer stress."

Noel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, faint pink dusting his cheeks. He thrust a dry shirt toward Luca. "Change. Now. Or I’ll—"

"You’ll what?" Luca propped himself up, eyes gleaming with playful challenge.

For a second Noel froze, words caught in his throat. Then he forced them out, clipped and stern. "I’ll sleep on the floor."

Luca’s grin softened into a laugh, low and unhurried. "You’d actually do that, wouldn’t you? Just to prove a point."

Noel turned away, fussing with the curtains just to have something to do. "Of course I would. I’m not getting into a bed with a human sponge."

But when he glanced back, Luca was tugging the shirt over his head, finally cooperative.

His grin lingered, but there was sincerity beneath it now.

"Better?" Luca asked softly.

Noel hesitated, then nodded. "Better."

They moved around each other in the small room, a silent dance of preparation.

When at last they both settled on the bed—Noel lying stiffly near the edge, Luca sprawling comfortably too close but not quite touching—the silence between them felt unhurried. Peaceful.

"You’ll catch a cold if you hog the window side," Noel said quietly.

"Then keep me warm," Luca murmured, half tease, half request.

Noel didn’t answer. He just tugged the blanket tighter around them, expression unreadable in the dim light, his actions speaking louder than words.

The rain kept falling, steady and gentle, their private soundtrack.

The lamp clicked off, leaving the room bathed in silver rainlight.

Noel lay stiff on his side, counting thunderclaps, but Luca’s breathing—so close, so steady, warm at the nape of his neck—kept tugging him back to the present.

"You’re still awake," Luca murmured.

"So are you."

"I was thinking."

"That’s dangerous for you," Noel muttered, but softly.

Luca’s laugh stirred the air between them. "Dangerous, maybe. But not with you here."

Noel shifted, finally facing him. In the dim glow, Luca looked sharper and gentler all at once—lashes dark, mouth too honest to be teasing.

"What exactly are you thinking?" Noel asked, more curious than intended.

"That I don’t want tonight to end." Luca’s answer came without pause. "Even if the rain stopped. Even if we caught the last train. I wanted us here. Just like this."

Noel swallowed. He should have been annoyed, but instead he whispered, "You planned this."

"Not the rain," Luca admitted, smiling faintly. "But staying? Yeah. Guilty as charged."

Silence lingered, fragile as glass.

"Why?" Noel asked at last.

"Because when it’s just us, it feels real. Not rushed, not complicated. Just you and me, breathing the same air. That’s all I need."

Noel’s lips parted, then closed. He pulled the blanket higher, murmuring, "You talk too much."

"And you listen," Luca said, smile small and unguarded. "You always listen."

Noel’s eyes softened despite himself.

This time, when he turned onto his side, he didn’t retreat to the edge.

The space between them shrank to a breath.

The blanket rustled as Luca shifted, slow and deliberate, closing the last sliver of space.

His arm slipped around Noel’s waist, pulling him close with quiet certainty.

Noel tensed, then stilled, melting into the steady thump of Luca’s chest.

"You’re impossible," Noel murmured, sleep already tugging at his voice.

"And you’re mine," Luca whispered into his hair, raw with honesty.

Noel didn’t protest. He let himself sink into the warmth, into the safety of being held.

The storm pressed against the window, but here—in the circle of Luca’s arms—the night felt endless.

And when Noel’s breathing finally slowed into sleep, Luca pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering, "Good night, love."

Noel didn’t answer, but his hand found Luca’s, fingers lacing tight enough to say everything words never could.