Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 193: Tonight’s ours

The basket was emptied, shirts folded away, and the apartment settled into quiet.

Noel lingered in the kitchen, fingertips tapping against the counter, while Luca sprawled against a chair like his work for the evening was already done.

"You eat junk all the time," Noel said finally, eyeing him. "We should cook something decent."

Luca’s head lifted. "Now? I thought folding socks was tonight’s grand finale."

"You’ll live," Noel replied, pulling open a cupboard and setting out a pan. "Come here."

Luca groaned but dragged himself over, leaning a hip against the counter. "If this ends with me covered in flour—"

"No flour," Noel cut in smoothly. "Something simple. Pasta. Vegetables. You can manage."

Luca arched a brow. "You’re forgetting I made an omelette this morning. By myself. Gordon Ramsay would’ve been impressed."

"It was salty," Noel reminded him.

"Seasoned," Luca corrected. "There’s a difference."

Noel didn’t argue; he just handed Luca a knife and slid a cutting board in front of him. "Chop these. Even pieces."

Luca stared at the vegetables like they’d personally insulted him. "You trust me with a knife?"

"Barely," Noel said, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Luca gripped the knife theatrically, then started cutting.

The pieces came out uneven—some too thin, some too thick—but Noel’s hand reached over, steadying his wrist. "Like this," he said, guiding the motion.

His touch was light, efficient, though it lingered a second longer than necessary.

Luca’s grin tilted. "Look at you, all domestic. Don’t get used to me being obedient."

"You’re not obedient," Noel murmured, eyes flicking to the mess of slices. "You’re tolerable."

"That’s basically a love confession."

"Don’t flatter yourself."

Still, Noel let him keep cutting, correcting here and there until the pile looked halfway decent.

Then the pan hissed on the stove, oil spreading, and the kitchen filled with the soft clatter of utensils.

Noel moved with quiet precision, Luca shadowing his steps, stealing glances at him instead of paying attention.

"Focus," Noel said without looking up.

"I am focused," Luca answered, grinning. "Just not on the food."

Noel stirred the pan, pretending not to hear.

When it came time to add seasoning, Noel passed the jar over. "Not too much."

Luca shook in a dash, then another. "Define too much."

The look Noel gave him was answer enough.

By the time the pasta was drained and the vegetables sautéed, the air smelled warm and rich.

Luca leaned close, stealing a taste off the spoon before Noel could stop him. "Mm. Okay, that’s good."

"Not bad," Noel admitted, plating it up.

"Not bad?" Luca repeated, mock-offended. "I slaved over that cutting board. Bled sweat and tears."

"You nearly cut your finger," Noel corrected.

"Details," Luca said, nudging a plate toward him. "Eat before I take all the credit."

They sat at the counter, plates steaming between them.

Noel took the first bite, measured as always.

Luca watched his face with exaggerated suspense.

"Well?"

Noel chewed, swallowed, then said simply, "It’s decent."

Luca let out a triumphant sound, raising his fork like a trophy. "Decent! That’s practically a Michelin star coming from you."

Noel shook his head, but there was that faint tug of a smile again, soft and unguarded.

They ate side by side at the counter, forks scraping softly against the plates.

Luca shoveled a bite in too quickly, hissed when it burned his tongue, and flailed for his water.

"Idiot," Noel muttered, pushing his glass closer.

Luca gulped it down, eyes watering, then pointed his fork accusingly. "That was sabotage. You made it taste too good. I couldn’t wait."

"You’re hopeless," Noel said, though his voice was warm.

"Hopelessly devoted," Luca added under his breath, grinning when Noel gave him a flat look.

The silence between them wasn’t heavy—it was filled with little things.

The clink of silverware, the hum of the fridge, the cat winding around their legs in lazy circles.

Luca leaned an elbow on the counter, watching Noel take measured bites.

"You always eat like you’re at some Michelin tasting menu," he teased. "Slow. Careful. Precise."

"Some of us appreciate food," Noel replied without missing a beat.

"Oh, I appreciate it," Luca said, spearing another forkful. "I just appreciate it faster."

Noel exhaled through his nose, but when Luca slid his fork across the counter, offering him a bite of his own portion, Noel accepted without hesitation.

"See?" Luca said, smug. "Sharing is romantic."

"It’s practical," Noel corrected, but his eyes lingered a beat too long before he looked back at his plate.

They finished most of it between them, Noel setting his fork down first, Luca licking the last of the sauce from his.

He caught Noel’s disapproving glance and shrugged. "What? No food wasted."

"Uncivilized," Noel murmured.

"Authentic," Luca countered, then stood to clear the plates. He bumped Noel’s shoulder with his as he passed, deliberately gentle. "Admit it—it wasn’t bad with me in the kitchen."

Noel stacked the glasses neatly, rinsing them under the tap. "You didn’t ruin it."

"High praise," Luca said, leaning against the counter with a grin. Then, softer: "Thanks. For... not letting me burn the place down."

Noel glanced at him over his shoulder, water still running, and something unspoken passed between them.

Not a joke, not a tease—just quiet acknowledgment.

When the dishes were done, Noel dried his hands and turned toward him.

Luca tilted his head, expectant.

"What?" Noel asked.

"Nothing." Luca’s grin softened into something smaller, steadier. "Just thinking... we make a good team."

Noel didn’t reply right away, but when he brushed past him on the way to the balcony, his shoulder pressed lightly into Luca’s. "Sometimes."

It was enough to make Luca’s smile widen as he trailed after him.

Noel stepped out first, sliding the glass door open with a soft scrape.

The evening air pressed cool against his skin, carrying the faint hum of the city—distant traffic, a siren far away, laughter drifting up from the street below.

He leaned on the railing, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere past the neighboring rooftops.

Behind him, the clink of bottles sounded.

Luca appeared with two glasses, holding them aloft like trophies. "Your options tonight: cheap red wine or orange juice in disguise."

"Wine," Noel said without turning.

"Good choice." Luca poured generously, passed one to him, then set his own on the ledge before perching against it, shoulder brushing Noel’s.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the stretch of night sky where only a handful of stars managed to pierce through. "You ever notice how the city tries to hide the stars, but they still find a way through?"

Noel sipped, silent.

"That’s us," Luca declared, lifting his glass in mock toast. "Resilient, glowing specks refusing to be drowned out."

"You’re drunk already," Noel said flatly.

"Excuse you_I’ve had two sips." Luca bumped his elbow lightly into Noel’s. "I’m just poetic by nature."

Noel’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.

He let the silence settle again, his eyes slipping back to the streetlights below.

Luca leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You’re quiet tonight."

"I usually am."

"Not like this," Luca said softly. He studied Noel’s profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the way the faint glow from inside brushed against his cheek. "You’re thinking too hard."

Noel turned his glass between his hands, watching the liquid shift. "I was... just wondering how long this lasts."

"This?" Luca echoed.

Noel nodded once, gaze still fixed on the glass. "Us. You, here. All of it."

The question hung heavy between them, heavier than the night air.

Luca blinked, caught off guard, then set his own glass down carefully. "Do you want me to say forever?"

Noel’s eyes flicked toward him.

"Because I will," Luca continued, quieter now, almost steady. "I’ll say it as many times as you need. Forever. Even if it scares the shit out of you."

Noel’s throat worked as he swallowed.

He didn’t answer right away, just leaned his forearms against the railing, head tilted slightly down.

Luca reached out, covering Noel’s hand with his own. Warm, firm, not forcing.

"I’m not leaving," Luca said simply.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the hum of the city and the faint clink of glass against metal when Noel shifted.

Then_finally_he turned his hand under Luca’s, fingers intertwining.

"You talk too much," Noel murmured.

"Yeah," Luca admitted, a small grin tugging at his lips. "But I mean every word."

Noel didn’t smile back, not fully, but the way his fingers tightened around Luca’s was enough.

They stood there, side by side, glasses forgotten, the night stretching soft and unhurried around them.

Noel shifting behind him, a quiet movement that made his breath catch.

Then arms wrapped around luca waist, firm but unhurried, pulling him back into a steady chest.

Luca stilled. "Whoa," he breathed, glancing down at the hands resting against his stomach. "Are you—? You’re hugging me."

"Don’t ruin it," Noel murmured against his shoulder.

The words were low, but they vibrated right through him.

Luca let out a small, incredulous laugh, then covered Noel’s hands with his own. "Not ruining. Just... savoring. Pretty rare event, you holding me like this."

Noel didn’t answer immediately.

His breath brushed warm against Luca’s neck, and for a moment the city noise fell away. Then, quietly: "You make it easy."

Luca blinked, caught off guard. "Easy?"

"To want this," Noel said. He tightened his arms just slightly, grounding them both. "To... not let go."

Luca’s grin softened, his chest aching in a way that felt almost too full.

He tilted his head back just enough that his temple brushed Noel’s. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

Noel was silent again, but it wasn’t the guarded kind of silence Luca had come to know.

It was slower, deliberate, like he was choosing his words carefully. "Tomorrow, everything starts. The internship. New hours. New people. It won’t be just... us anymore."

"I know," Luca said, his voice gentler now. "But nothing changes this. You and me? We’re not negotiable."

Noel’s lips brushed close to his ear, not quite a kiss, more a confession carried on a breath. "Don’t get tired of me."

Luca turned then, pulling free just enough to face him, his grin crooked and soft. "Not possible. You’re stuck with me, remember?"

Noel searched his face like he needed to be sure, then let out a slow breath and leaned in, pressing his forehead lightly to Luca’s. "Good."

The word was simple, but it felt like everything.

Luca’s hand found the back of his neck, thumb stroking gently. "C’mere."

Noel didn’t resist when Luca closed the distance, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was nothing like the playful ones Luca usually chased.

It was slow, deliberate, the kind that carried weight instead of spark. A promise.

When they pulled apart, Luca whispered against his lips, "Tomorrow can wait. Tonight’s ours."

Noel didn’t argue. He just held him tighter.