Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 202: Between Floors

Friday slipped in through the blinds like a promise—warm light brushing against glass walls and quiet desks.

The office hummed with a familiar rhythm, the week’s routine now settled into their bones.

Luca sat with his team amid the clatter of keyboards and the soft murmur of conversation.

Wei Chen was leaned close to Camila, their laughter a private current between spreadsheets and shipment notes.

Across from him, Bella spun her pen, watching him with a knowing smirk that always spelled trouble.

"You look miles away," she said, chin tilted.

"Just working," Luca replied, not looking up.

"Working," she repeated, amused. "That’s what they all say right before they start sighing at their screens."

He offered a low, polite laugh. "You’re imagining things."

She arched a brow. "Am I?"

Luca didn’t answer. He reached for his mouse, scrolling through a document he wasn’t really reading.

His mind was elsewhere—upstairs on the fourth floor, where Noel would already be deep in discussion with Mr. Max, Ren, and Jace.

He could picture it too easily: Noel’s calm posture, his sharp focus, the quiet intelligence that drew people in without effort.

The thought settled under his skin like a persistent, low hum.

"God, you’re hopeless," Bella murmured, though her tone softened as she returned to her work.

Hopeless. Maybe.

Luca’s eyes drifted toward the glass wall separating their department from the rest of the company.

Every floor, every meeting, every polite greeting—it all existed under his family’s name. His father’s company. His father’s rules.

Which meant everything he did, every glance, every whispered rumor, carried weight. And that made Noel... off-limits.

The contradiction twisted in his chest. It was absurd that he could sign documents bearing his father’s logo but couldn’t reach across a table to touch the hand of the person he loved.

He glanced again at Wei Chen and Camila—open, unbothered, sitting close, laughing without a second thought. No pretense. No fear.

Luca’s jaw tightened. He forced his gaze back to the screen—numbers, reports, empty things that didn’t truly matter.

Bella leaned toward him again. "You okay?"

He blinked, pulling himself back to the present. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

"Try not to burn out your brain. It’s Friday," she said lightly, stretching as she stood.

When she was gone, the quiet deepened.

Luca’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving.

He wasn’t tired of work. He was tired of pretending.

But it was what Noel had asked for—for both their sakes.

And Luca, loyal to a fault, had agreed.

So he kept his eyes down, his heart steady, and his secret tucked away where no one could see it.

Even when, somewhere above him, he swore he could feel Noel thinking the very same thing.

Upstairs, the atmosphere was sharper—less laughter, more precision.

Mr. Max’s voice cut cleanly through the low hum. "Ren, cross-check the shipment report. Jace, ensure the partnership proposals are accurately translated before they go to the client. Noel—stay with me. I need your take on the trade summary."

"Yes, sir," Noel replied, steady as ever.

He moved closer to the table where files were stacked in neat order, each document marked with foreign stamps and signatures.

The air carried the faint scent of coffee and printed paper—a fragrance that was beginning to define his days.

Mr. Max leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp behind his glasses. "Your analysis last time was clean. Keep that up, and the board will start paying attention."

"Thank you," Noel said, his tone polite but measured. Compliments here were currency—they sounded like praise but always carried the weight of expectation.

Ren shot him a look from across the table, a small smile playing on his lips. "Man, I don’t know how you do it. You never look tired."

"I am," Noel said simply. "I just don’t show it."

That earned a quiet laugh from Jace, who was already half-buried in paperwork. "Guess that’s why Max likes you."

Mr. Max didn’t look up. "I like results."

The room quieted again, the rhythm of typing filling the space.

Noel’s focus didn’t waver, but his thoughts did.

Somewhere the floors below, Luca was likely sitting in that open workspace, surrounded by chatter and bright, teasing energy.

He could almost hear his laugh—unfiltered and unmistakable.

It used to make Noel smile without thought.

Now, it made something in his chest ache.

He was the one who had asked for discretion.

He’d said it was logical—less distraction, less scrutiny.

He’d told himself it was the right decision.

It was,wasn’t it?

Yet, the practiced silence between them within these walls sometimes felt vast.

Too careful.

Too much like pretending they were nothing more than strangers.

Mr. Max’s voice snapped him back. "Noel, what’s your read on this?"

He blinked, straightened. "The export figures from last quarter?"

"Yes. The pattern."

Noel gathered his composure, flipping the file open.

His answer came clean and confident—smooth, professional, like muscle memory.

Mr. Max nodded, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Good. You’re thinking like an executive. Maintain that pace."

"Understood."

The words came easily, but a faint twitch in his hand betrayed the strain.

He reached for his pen, grounding himself in its familiar weight.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Ren stretched with a yawn. "Finally. Lunch?"

"In a bit," Noel said, his eyes still on the unclosed files.

Ren and Jace exchanged a glance, shrugged, and left together.

Once the door shut, Noel exhaled quietly.

The office hum faded, leaving only the subtle buzz of the overhead lights.

He checked his phone.

A new message.

Luca: Come eat. You’ve been buried all morning.

Noel’s lips curved, just barely—the smallest crack in his composure.

He stared at the screen a moment too long, a quiet warmth seeping through him before he typed his reply.

Noel: Give me ten minutes.

Then he stood, buttoning his coat. His reflection in the glass door looked calm, composed, every line of him tailored for this world—

but his eyes told the truth.

They softened when he thought of Luca.

By the time Noel reached the cafeteria, it was filled with the sound of clattering trays and the low, steady buzz of conversation.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, pooling warmly on the tables where the interns had gathered.

Luca spotted him first.

He didn’t wave.

Didn’t smile. Just looked up, his gaze catching Noel’s for a second too long before he turned back to his food as though it didn’t matter.

It mattered.

Bella was mid-laugh, teasing Wei Chen. "You two act like you’re married already," she said, pointing her fork at him and Camille.

Camille grinned, brushing a crumb from Wei Chen’s sleeve. "We just like each other, that’s all."

"Lucky you," Bella sighed, dramatic. "The rest of us are in a relationship with our deadlines."

Luca leaned back, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Some deadlines are worth it."

Bella rolled her eyes. "You sound like you’re flirting with your work, Luca."

He smirked. "Maybe I am."

The words were smooth, playful—but his eyes flicked toward Noel just as he joined them.

For a heartbeat,the noise around the table seemed to dim.

"Finally decided to eat?" Bella said, scooting over to make room. "We were about to send a search party."

"Work ran long," Noel said, his tone even.

Luca shifted almost imperceptibly, creating space beside him.

Not obvious—just enough for Noel to notice.

Noel sat, his tray meeting the table without a sound. "What did I miss?"

"Bella’s latest campaign idea," Liam offered, nodding toward her. "Something about bottled water and heartbreak."

"It’s genius," Bella defended. "’Hydrate your emotions.’"

Luca nearly choked on his drink. "That’s terrible."

"No, it’s art," she shot back, feigning offense.

Noel’s mouth curved faintly—a smile that appeared and vanished too quickly to catch.

He reached for his cup,murmuring, "At least she’s marketing to the right crowd."

Bella gasped in mock scandal. "Did Noel just tease me? That’s illegal."

A quiet laugh escaped Luca—short, but genuine. "You’ll recover."

The moment stretched, easy yet fragile, like balancing something precious between fingertips.

Noel didn’t look at him again,not directly, but his hand brushed against Luca’s on the table as he reached for a napkin, lingering a breath too long.

It could have been an accident.

It wasn’t.

Camille noticed the subtle shift in the air, her eyes flicking up briefly—but she said nothing. Just offered a soft, knowing smile.

They finished their lunch like that, the surrounding noise melting into a comfortable hum.

A few quiet comments, shared glances—all threaded with a dangerous warmth that came from wanting to touch and knowing they shouldn’t.

As lunch drew to a close, Bella stretched with a groan. "Back to the grind."

Luca stood last, gathering his tray. "Yeah," he said softly. Then, lower, for Noel’s ears only: "You owe me that ten minutes."

Noel’s gaze lifted slightly, his voice steady. "After work."

Luca’s grin was small but real. "Good answer."

And just like that, they parted—two professionals returning to their separate floors, each pretending not to look back.