Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 201: Home at Last

The afternoon light had shifted by the time they returned.

It poured through the tall windows in soft sheets, catching the dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

The company floor felt calmer now—phones ringing in low bursts, printers humming, footsteps passing on polished tiles.

Luca slipped back into his department first, greeted by the faint buzz of conversation and the smell of coffee that had clearly been reheated too many times.

"Back from the social hour?" Georgia’s voice came dry but not unkind from across the room.

Luca smiled, dropping his bag on his desk. "We call it team bonding now, actually."

Her brows arched. "Do we?"

Bella snorted from her seat. "Future legend, remember?"

Georgia shook her head, but a flicker of amusement crossed her face before she turned back to her computer. "Bond all you want—just meet your deadlines."

Luca slid into his chair, spinning his pen once between his fingers.

The monitor blinked awake, showing the draft presentation they’d started that morning.

He stared at it a moment, mind half elsewhere.

Across the company—the floors up—Noel was doing the same, but quieter.

The fourth floor was steadier in its silence, all muted tones and disciplined focus.

He’d barely sat down before Mr. Max’s voice cut through the room.

"Afternoon, team. I’ve sent an updated report on the import schedules. Review and mark any discrepancies."

"Yes, sir," came the replies—calm, automatic.

Noel opened the file, his expression neutral.

Lines of text filled the screen, numbers and trade terms stacked neatly.

But somewhere between column G and H, his phone buzzed once against the desk.

A quick glance—a message from Luca.

**Don’t work too hard, Mr. Professional.**

He felt the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth.

His fingers hesitated above the keyboard before he typed back under the desk:

**No promises.**

Ren leaned over from the next desk, whispering, "Everything good?"

"Yeah," Noel said simply, eyes still on the screen. "Just numbers."

He returned to work, expression smooth, composed.

Yet his focus carried a quiet warmth now, like the text had replaced the coffee he never finished.

Meanwhile, in marketing, Luca leaned back, pretending to stretch while sneaking a glance at his phone—Noel’s reply made him grin under his breath. Bella caught it immediately.

"What’s that look?" she asked, squinting at him.

Luca shook his head quickly, smothering the smile. "Just... something funny Ren said earlier."

"Uh-huh." Bella looked unconvinced but let it drop, tapping her pen against her notebook. "You’re acting suspiciously happy for someone working on a product launch."

"Maybe I just love my job," Luca said smoothly, clicking back to his slides.

"Right," she muttered. "Future legend and model employee. Someone write that down."

Georgia walked by again, scanning their progress, oblivious to the quiet current running between two floors.

For the next hour, the building moved like a well-rehearsed machine—conversations muffled by partitions, the clack of keys marking the rhythm of productivity.

Noel’s focus sharpened under the weight of precision, Max’s shadow occasionally passing by to check progress.

On another floor, Luca’s laughter slipped through the air now and then, drawing a few side glances but nothing more.

Neither saw the other, but both felt the presence—a silent, steady awareness that hummed through the walls and distance.

When the clock edged toward five, Luca’s gaze wandered again toward the window, catching the reflection of the sun tilting westward.

And upstairs, Noel paused mid-sentence, realizing he was thinking the same thing.

The end of the day unfolded quietly, the way dusk always did in glass buildings—soft, unhurried, almost reluctant to close.

By five, the office hum had dulled to something gentler: drawers sliding shut, low voices wrapping up calls, chairs creaking as people stretched from long hours.

Georgia stepped out of her office, files under one arm. "Good work today, everyone," she said, her tone brisk but lighter than usual. "Go home. Rest. Tomorrow we pick up where we left off."

Luca powered down his monitor, slipping his phone into his pocket before Bella could spot another secret grin.

"Hey, Future Legend," she said as she gathered her things, "try not to be late tomorrow."

He smirked faintly. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. "Night, Luca."

"Night, Bells."

He waited a few beats after everyone left, tidying papers that didn’t really need tidying, pretending he wasn’t waiting for a certain someone to text.

The floors up, Noel was doing the same—finishing a summary for Mr. Max, eyes moving slower now that the day had worn him down.

Max paused by his desk, that same calm warmth in his tone. "Good job today, Noel. You’ve got a good eye for detail."

"Thank you, sir."

Max nodded, hesitating just long enough to make it noticeable. "Don’t stay too late. The office looks different at night—less forgiving."

A polite smile from Noel. "I’ll leave soon."

When Max finally turned away, Noel exhaled quietly, packed his laptop, and slipped out.

The elevator ride down was nearly empty—just the faint hum of machinery, the reflection of tired eyes in brushed steel.

The doors opened to the lobby, where Luca stood waiting near the glass doors, his hands tucked into his pockets like he’d been pretending to check his phone for the last ten minutes.

Their eyes met—just a flicker, just long enough for the exhaustion in both of them to soften.

"Hey," Noel greeted, voice low.

"Hey," Luca echoed, relief threaded into the single word.

They didn’t touch, not here. The lobby was too open, too watched. But their steps fell into sync easily as they pushed through the doors and out into the cooling evening air.

The city had that after-hours hush, cars gliding past, the faint scent of street food drifting in from the corner.

Luca glanced sideways. "Rough day?"

"Not rough," Noel said, eyes ahead. "Just... steady."

"You’re late for lunch."

A small hum of acknowledgment. "I lost track of time."

"You always do," Luca murmured.

Noel’s mouth twitched—half a smile, half apology. "I’ll make it up to you."

"I’ll hold you to that," Luca said quietly.

They walked in silence for a while, the distance between them close enough to feel without crossing.

The city lights shimmered against glass towers, reflected in the puddles left from an afternoon drizzle.

When they finally turned onto their street, Luca exhaled, the professional mask fading, his voice softer. "It’s strange, isn’t it?"

"What is?"

"How normal it feels when we leave that building. Like we don’t have to measure every look, every word."

Noel’s gaze drifted toward him, the faintest warmth there. "That’s the point of coming home."

Luca smiled at that, small but real. "Yeah. Home."

They reached the apartment steps, shoulders brushing just barely as Noel unlocked the door.

Inside, the air felt lighter, quieter—like they’d stepped out of one world and back into their own.

Luca tossed his bag aside, half-turning with that familiar teasing glint. "So, about that make-up lunch..."

Noel shook his head, but the smile he tried to hide gave him away. "You never let anything go, do you?"

"Not when it involves food or you," Luca said easily.

"Good to know my ranking."

"You’re first," Luca replied, already pulling him by the wrist, gentle, playful. "Food second. But only by a little."

Noel laughed softly then—quiet, genuine, the sound of the long day finally breaking apart.

The night closed around them, simple and unhurried.

And for a moment, neither of them needed to say anything else.

The apartment hummed softly with night sounds—the low buzz of the fridge, the faint hum of city traffic beyond the glass.

Noel loosened his tie and dropped it carelessly on the armrest before sinking into the couch, head tipping back with a quiet sigh.

Luca leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him for a moment. "You look dead."

"I feel worse," Noel murmured, eyes still closed.

"Good thing I’m here to revive you." Luca’s tone was light, teasing, but underneath it, there was something else—something that had waited all day.

He crossed the room and sat beside Noel, leaving just enough space to not make it obvious, but close enough that warmth passed between them.

"Revive me, huh?" Noel cracked one eye open. "You got a license for that?"

Luca smiled faintly. "Guess we’ll have to find out if I’m qualified."

Noel turned his head toward him. For a heartbeat, the exhaustion in his eyes softened into something warmer, quieter. "You really were waiting for me."

"Ten minutes," Luca said. "But who’s counting?"

"You were."

"Obviously."

The silence stretched again—comfortable this time.

Luca reached for the remote, turned on a faint playlist, something soft and instrumental that filled the air without asking for attention.

Then he leaned back too, their shoulders almost touching.

"You didn’t eat properly," Luca said after a while. "I should make you something."

Noel tilted his head toward him, voice low. "You mean you want an excuse to feed me because you’re still mad about lunch."

"Maybe," Luca said. "Or maybe I just don’t like seeing you run yourself into the ground."

That quiet honesty hung between them. Noel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, fingers brushing Luca’s hand—slow, deliberate. "Then sit with me. Just for a minute."

Luca hesitated only a second before sinking closer.

Their fingers laced loosely, resting between them on the couch. No grand gesture, no rush.

Just the soft rhythm of breathing, the way fatigue gave way to something gentler.

"I’m sorry," Noel murmured, eyes half-lidded. "Next time, I’ll come to lunch on time."

"I’ll make sure you do," Luca replied, voice low but sure.

A faint smirk tugged at Noel’s lips. "You planning to drag me out by force?"

"If I have to."

"Persistent."

"Always," Luca whispered.

The city lights outside painted their faces in shifting gold and silver.

Luca leaned his head against Noel’s shoulder—not to demand, not to claim, just to rest.

Noel’s hand tightened a little around his.

"See?" Luca murmured. "You’re already making it up to me."

Noel let out a quiet laugh, the kind that comes after long days and small truths. "Guess I am."

They stayed like that—unhurried, unspoken, the world outside fading until it was just the two of them, the pulse of their small apartment steady and alive.

Nothing extravagant. Just love, in its simplest, most ordinary form—earned quietly at the end of a long day.