Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 196: Between Lines and Lies

The fourth floor was quieter, the hum of printers and low conversations filling the space.

A wide window spilled daylight across polished desks arranged in neat clusters.

Mr. Max waited near the front, a file tucked under his arm, his posture relaxed in a way that set him apart from Georgia’s sharp edges downstairs.

He smiled when the group entered, eyes sweeping across the new interns—then lingering just a second too long on Noel.

"Welcome to International Relations and Trade," he said warmly. "You’ve all passed the first hurdle just by getting here. Now comes the real work."

Ren adjusted his tie, standing straighter.

Jace shoved his hands into his pockets, looking unimpressed already.

Noel, calm as ever, took a seat without fuss.

Max paced slowly, almost conversational. "Our department handles negotiations, imports, exports, foreign partnerships... the kind of details that keep a company breathing. It’s not glamorous. It’s patience, precision, and listening between the lines." His gaze found Noel again. "Some of you will take to it naturally."

Jace smirked. "And some of us won’t?"

Max’s lips twitched like he almost smiled. "That depends on how much you’re willing to learn."

He placed the folder on the table, opening it to reveal sheets stamped with international contracts. "Today’s task is observation. You’ll review these documents and highlight any potential weak points—translation errors, inconsistent terms, red flags that could cost us later."

Ren leaned forward eagerly, already scanning.

Jace leaned back with a sigh.

Noel flipped the first page, brows drawn in faint concentration.

Max lingered near his side, voice softer now, almost private though the others could hear. "Take your time. It’s not a race."

Noel glanced up briefly, catching the tone. "I wasn’t planning to rush."

"Good." Max’s eyes crinkled faintly, approval in the look. "Steady suits this work better than speed."

Ren cleared his throat, pulling the attention back. "Sir, are we working individually or as a group?"

"Individually for now," Max replied easily, though his gaze drifted back to Noel again as he spoke. "But I’ll pair you later. Collaboration is the heart of international trade."

Jace muttered under his breath, "Collaboration, or babysitting."

Noel didn’t bite. He kept reading, pen in hand, underlining a clause that didn’t line up with the translation beneath it.

Max noticed_of course he did_and nodded, an unspoken well done passing between them.

The room settled into quiet work, papers rustling, pens scratching, the faint hum of the city beyond the glass.

Yet even in the silence, it was clear: Max’s tone toward Noel carried something different—something gentler, as though he already admired not just his skills, but the way he carried himself.

Noel worked quietly, steady hand tracing lines of ink as he underlined another inconsistency.

He didn’t fidget or tap his pen like Ren, and he didn’t lean back with a smirk like Jace.

His stillness made him stand out, though he never tried to.

Max circled the table, stopping briefly behind each student.

He offered pointers here and there—adjusting Ren’s focus, nudging Jace toward a clause he’d overlooked.

When he reached Noel, he didn’t speak immediately.

He just stood, watching the way Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly, pen pausing midair before he drew a single, clean mark down the margin.

"You caught that?" Max asked softly.

Noel tilted his head without looking up. "The phrasing’s off. It says delivery within thirty days in one section, sixty in another. Contradicts itself."

Max smiled, faint but clear. "Sharp eye." His voice lowered, gentler. "Keep at it."

Then he moved on, but not before his hand brushed the back of Noel’s chair in a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture.

Ren noticed. His gaze flicked between them, curiosity sparking but unspoken.

Jace didn’t look up_he seemed content to play disinterested_but the air shifted, just slightly.

Noel didn’t react outwardly. He kept reading, pen steady, though his jaw tightened for a brief second, as if aware of the weight of Max’s attention.

Minutes stretched into a quiet rhythm—the shuffle of papers, the faint tick of the clock on the wall.

Outside, sunlight slid further across the glass, glinting on their desks.

When Max finally called a break, he leaned lightly against the edge of the table, folding his arms. "You’ve all done better than most on a first pass. Keep looking for cracks—it’s the details that decide whether a deal holds or collapses." His gaze swept across them all, but again, lingered a beat too long where Noel sat.

Noel closed his folder carefully, aligning the edges with exact precision before setting his pen on top. Calm, composed—exactly as expected.

But inside, there was the faintest ripple. He noticed, even if he’d never say it out loud.

Georgia’s phone buzzed against her palm.

She glanced at the screen, then answered, her tone brisk but even. "Max. Bring your team down. We’ll regroup in the lobby, then do a full tour of the building. Afterward, cafeteria for lunch—all departments together."

She hung up, pivoting back toward Luca’s group. "Gather your things. Meet us downstairs in ten."

On the fourth floor, Max slipped his phone into his pocket, straightening from where he’d been leaning. "Alright. You heard that—pack it up. We’re heading down."

Chairs scraped lightly, folders snapped shut.

Noel tucked his pen into the spine of his notebook before sliding it into his bag with that precise neatness that seemed second nature.

Ren and Jace moved slower, talking under their breath, but Noel was already standing, gaze steady.

By the time both groups merged in the lobby, the chatter of students filled the wide marble space.

Luca spotted Noel instantly, lifting a hand in a wave as he crossed over.

"So," Luca said, eyes bright. "First day survival report?"

Noel looked at him, unreadable for a moment, then answered evenly, "Quiet. Productive."

"Translation: good," Luca said, grinning.

"Translation: uneventful," Noel corrected, but the corner of his mouth softened despite himself.

Georgia and Max took the lead, guiding the students down wide corridors.

Glass walls gave glimpses into open-plan offices, the hum of keyboards and muffled voices spilling through.

They paused before a broad display wall lined with framed photographs of executives and milestones.

Georgia gestured, explaining briefly, but Noel’s steps slowed, his gaze catching on one portrait in particular.

A man in a dark suit, posture crisp, smile measured—the caption beneath read: Mr. Andrew Smith, Chairman & Founder of Infinity Global Partners.

Noel’s brows knit, a quiet recognition pressing into place.

He turned his head just enough to glance at Luca, who had gone very still beside him.

Noel’s voice was calm, low. "Who’s this?"

Max stepped in smoothly. "That’s Mr. Smith, our chairman. The company’s backbone—he built Infinity Global from the ground up." His tone carried a weight of respect. "Everything you see here, he started it."

Luca swallowed, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. He didn’t meet Noel’s eyes.

Noel looked back at the photo, then at him, gaze steady, sharp but quiet. He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

The silence between them was louder than anything—an unspoken why didn’t you tell me?

Luca shifted, guilt flickering across his features, a fleeting break in his usual grin.

He kept walking when Georgia called them forward again, but he felt it—the weight of Noel’s gaze, the cold edge beneath the calm.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, students clustered around tables, laughing lightly, settling in with trays.

The air buzzed with chatter.

But Luca couldn’t shake it—the way Noel hadn’t spoken a single unnecessary word since the photograph.

It was the kind of silence that pressed harder than confrontation.

And it followed them all the way to lunch.

The cafeteria buzzed with voices, clatter of trays, and the faint hum of a vending machine in the corner.

Students spilled into clusters, sliding into plastic chairs, the air smelling faintly of coffee and something fried.

Georgia had ushered her group toward a long table near the windows.

Bella flopped down first, tugging Luca beside her. "Survival of the fittest," she said dramatically, pushing her hair back. "I claim this spot."

Luca sat, but his usual easy grin was absent.

His fingers worried the edge of his tray, nails dragging across the plastic.

Bella nudged him. "You went quiet. Don’t tell me you’re already scared off by one morning of work."

"I’m fine," Luca muttered, eyes fixed on his food.

"Fine," Bella echoed, rolling her eyes. "He says that like he’s dying inside." She leaned closer, teasing. "What, Georgia already break you?"

Luca forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Something like that."

Bella laughed, already turning toward Wei Chen and Camille as they argued over whose idea Georgia had actually liked more.

Their voices overlapped with Isabella’s_Bella, as she’d insisted—spilling light, easy banter across the table.

But Luca barely heard any of it.

Across from him, Noel sat with his own team, Max having steered them to the same table for convenience.

Noel’s tray was neat, untouched for the moment.

He answered Ren when spoken to, nodded once to Jace—but his gaze flicked now and then, sharp as glass, toward Luca.

Every time, Luca felt it. His throat tightened.

He kept his head bowed, fork pushing food he didn’t taste.

Bella’s laughter rang beside him, but her words blurred into background noise. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The air between him and Noel—just a stretch of plastic tabletop, a few inches of distance—felt heavier than all the voices in the room.

Once, Luca risked a glance. Noel’s eyes met his, steady, unreadable.

Luca’s heart lurched. He looked down fast, guilt written across the slump of his shoulders.

The table carried on around them—jokes, complaints, stories of professors—but their silence carved its own private corner.

A silence only the two of them knew, sharp and quiet, stretching through every bite of lunch.

The plates emptied slowly, conversation circling around campaign ideas, the "terrifying" workload Georgia had hinted at, and Ren’s dry jokes about Max’s obsession with schedules.

Bella swiped half of Luca’s fries without asking, grinning when he didn’t protest. "You’re distracted," she teased, chewing. "That means these are free game."

Luca gave a thin laugh, no real fight in it. "Guess so."

"Unbelievable," Camille chimed in from across the table. "If Wei Chen tried that with me, I’d stab his hand with my fork."

Wei Chen gave her a long-suffering look, but she only smiled sweetly, leaning against his shoulder.

The chatter rose and fell around them, but Luca kept his eyes down, shoulders hunched just slightly, guilt curling tight in his chest.

Every time he felt Noel’s gaze—steady, cool from across the table—his stomach dipped lower.

Noel ate quietly, answering Jace and Ren when needed, but not much more.

His fork scraped neatly against his plate, movements precise, detached.

When the meal wound down, Georgia clapped her hands once. "Alright, that’s enough of a break. We’ve got work waiting."

Chairs scraped back. Bella sighed theatrically. "And here I thought we were going to lounge all day."

"Not in this lifetime," Georgia replied dryly, already striding toward the elevators.

Max rose more slowly, smoothing his tie, eyes flicking briefly toward his team."Let’s not keep them waiting," he said with a faint smile.

The students gathered their trays, chatter scattering again into little groups.

Bella looped her arm briefly through Luca’s as they walked, tugging him along. "You’ll thank me later when you don’t get lost," she teased.

Luca let her pull him, but his eyes drifted once—toward Noel.

Noel didn’t look back.

He walked beside his team, expression unreadable, steps steady as ever.

The two groups split at the elevators, third floor for Georgia’s team, fourth for Max’s.

For a moment, Luca lingered, glancing up, hoping—maybe Noel would meet his gaze, just once.

But the doors slid shut between them, leaving only the echo of his own uneasy heartbeat.

Back at their departments, the hum of work resumed: papers shuffling, keyboards clattering, managers’ voices guiding.

The building carried on as if nothing had shifted.

Only Luca and Noel knew better.