Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 210: The End of Week One

The walk home stretched easy and unhurried—the kind of evening that asked for nothing but time.

The air carried a softness, warm and city-scented, alive with faint laughter spilling from open cafés.

They didn’t rush. Noel’s steps matched Luca’s, shoulders brushing now and then.

Streetlights blinked to life one by one, washing the sidewalk in amber light.

Luca slowed near a row of small restaurants, his gaze snagging on the glow of a familiar red sign.

The scent hit him before the name did—tomato, oregano, melted cheese.

He stopped dead.

"Pizza," he declared, turning toward the door like it was destiny.

Noel arched an eyebrow. "Pizza? Again?"

"Correction," Luca said solemnly, pressing a hand to his heart. "Therapy in circular form."

Noel huffed a laugh. "You really can’t go a week without it, huh?"

"Not when the universe clearly wants me to have it." Luca pointed toward the window, where a waitress was setting down a steaming pie. "Look at that. Fate."

Noel sighed, but his lips curved despite himself. "You’re impossible."

"And hungry."

"Fine." He shook his head, amused. "But you’re ordering."

Inside, the place was warm and golden—a little noisy, but comfortably so.

The smell of baking dough and garlic bread wrapped around them like a welcoming embrace.

Checkered tablecloths, dim pendant lights, the gentle clink of glasses and cutlery creating a soundtrack of contentment.

They slid into a corner booth away from the chatter.

The glow from the pendant light above painted Luca’s hair in shades of copper.

Luca leaned back, flipping open the menu with exaggerated concentration. "I’m thinking extra cheese. Maybe mushrooms. Or no—pepperoni. Classic, reliable, emotionally healing."

"You’re ridiculous," Noel murmured, reaching for his glass of water.

"Maybe. But admit it—you’re smiling."

Noel didn’t answer, just looked at him—soft-eyed, quietly undone. "You’re a lot, you know that?"

"I’m your lot." Luca said it casually, but it landed somewhere deeper.

For a heartbeat, Noel didn’t move.

Then he reached across the table, nudging Luca’s fingers with his own.

The touch lingered—quiet, simple, steady.

The waitress appeared, pad in hand, and Luca ordered with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been thinking about this for hours. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Noel added a simple margherita, and when she left, Luca leaned forward conspiratorially.

"You always get the boring one," he teased.

"I get the one that lets me taste the actual ingredients," Noel corrected. "Not everyone needs a cheese avalanche."

"That’s exactly what everyone needs," Luca said with mock seriousness. "It’s science."

"That’s definitely not science."

"Nutritional psychology, then."

Noel shook his head, that helpless smile playing at his lips again.

Around them, the restaurant hummed with life—couples sharing wine, families with tired but happy faces, the sizzle of fresh pizzas emerging from the kitchen.

When their order arrived, it came sizzling, cheese bubbling like a promise.

Luca immediately took the first slice, nearly burning his tongue.

"See?" he said around a mouthful. "Therapy."

Noel laughed, shaking his head. "You’re hopeless."

"Hopelessly in love with pizza," Luca said, wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth, "and maybe one other thing."

Noel watched him—really watched.

The way Luca’s face softened in the glow, how laughter came to him so easily, how even exhaustion couldn’t dull his light.

It hit him quietly but deep: home wasn’t a place, it was sitting across from him, grinning with tomato sauce on his cheek.

"You’ve got something right there," Noel said, gesturing to his own face.

Luca wiped the wrong side.

"No, the other."

Luca leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You sure you’re not just trying to kiss me in public, boss?"

Noel’s lips curved. "If I were, you wouldn’t be guessing."

That shut Luca up for a moment.

Then he laughed softly—low, almost shy—and reached for his drink, his grin never fading.

They ate slowly, trading slices and stories from their day.

Luca recounted Bella’s reaction to Georgia’s praise, doing impressions that made Noel bite back laughter.

Noel mentioned Ren’s comment about trade codes, his voice dry but fond.

"First week," Luca said eventually, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "We actually survived it."

"You did more than survive," Noel said quietly. "You impressed them."

"We both did," Luca corrected, reaching across to steal a piece of crust from Noel’s plate. "Team effort, remember?"

Outside, the city kept breathing. Cars hummed, lights blinked, and people passed by—but inside that small restaurant, it was just them: two boys, one table, and the easy rhythm of a quiet kind of happiness.

The walk back was slower this time, the kind of lazy pace that came after a full meal and good laughter.

Luca had one hand pressed to his stomach, groaning with dramatic pain that didn’t fool anyone.

"I told you to stop at the fourth slice," Noel said, amusement curling around every word.

"You said that after the fifth," Luca countered. "Which, in my defense, is terrible timing."

"You don’t listen anyway."

"True," Luca admitted, tilting his head toward him. "But you love me for it."

Noel’s answer was a quiet hum, the sound of someone who’d long stopped arguing and started surrendering instead.

The streets were mostly empty now.

Storefront lights glowed soft through glass, and a breeze carried the scent of rain somewhere distant.

Their footsteps echoed lightly against the pavement.

Luca’s fingers brushed against Noel’s, casual at first, then certain.

Noel didn’t pull away.

He never did.

Their hands found each other easily, like they’d been doing it forever.

By the time they reached the apartment building, the night had settled deep and calm around them.

Noel unlocked the door, the faint click breaking the hush.

Inside, the air was cool and familiar. Shoes off, lights low.

Luca dropped his jacket onto the couch, stretching with a quiet sigh.

"Don’t say it," Noel warned without turning.

"I wasn’t going to say anything," Luca said, slipping his arms around Noel’s waist from behind. "But if I were going to say something, it’d be that you look unfairly good under bad lighting."

Noel exhaled through a soft laugh, leaning back into him just enough to betray how used to this he’d become. "You’re impossible."

"Well," Luca whispered against his neck, "here I am."

For a long moment, they just stood there—no urgency, no performance.

Just the hum of the city beyond the windows and the quiet comfort of being where they belonged.

Noel turned then, pressing his forehead to Luca’s. "You overate."

"I over-loved," Luca said solemnly. "Different department."

"Go shower, idiot."

Luca grinned, stealing a quick kiss before stepping back. "Yes, boss."

He disappeared down the hall, still humming the tune that had been playing in the restaurant.

Noel watched him go, shaking his head with that helpless, soft smile he only ever wore at home.

Outside, the city moved on.

Inside, everything slowed—the lights dimmed, the night thickened, and somewhere between laughter and quiet, they slipped into the kind of peace that didn’t need words.

Noel crouched beside the small dish on the kitchen floor, pouring out the last of the dry food.

The cat padded over, tail curling high, brushing against his leg before starting to eat.

"There you go," Noel murmured, smoothing a hand down the sleek fur. "Don’t make that face at me later when the bowl’s empty again."

The cat blinked up at him once, slow and satisfied.

Noel shook his head with a faint smile, standing as the low hum of the apartment wrapped around him—the quiet after laughter, after dinner, after a long, good day.

He was just rinsing his hands in the sink when Luca’s voice drifted from the bedroom.

"Noel!"

That tone—light, familiar, threaded with something warm—pulled an instinctive smile to Noel’s lips.

He dried his hands, tossing the towel aside as he called back, "What is it this time? Another philosophical pizza thought?"

"Maybe," Luca said, his voice muffled through the door. "Come find out."

Noel shook his head, amusement softening the corners of his expression.

He crossed the living room, each step quieter than the last, the glow from the hallway spilling faint gold through the open doorway.

Luca was already sprawled across the bed, hair a little messy, one arm lazily draped over a pillow.

His grin was the kind that didn’t ask for anything, just waited.

"Took you long enough," he teased.

"Had to feed someone else first," Noel said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Jealous," Luca murmured, eyes half-lidded.

"You and the cat would get along," Noel replied, a low laugh slipping through as he walked closer.

Luca reached out a hand, and Noel took it without hesitation.

Noel sat beside him, the kind of closeness that didn’t need to be earned anymore.

"End of week one," Luca whispered.

"Mm."

"Still like working there?"

Noel’s lips quirked. "Still like coming home to you."

For a while, they just sat like that, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing with the hush of the room.

Noel’s gaze traced the curve of Luca’s face—the faint tiredness, the warmth behind his eyes, the peace he carried only here, at home.

"You should rest," Noel murmured.

"I am," Luca said softly. "You’re here."

A pause.

Then Luca’s voice again, quiet but certain:

"You know... it’s easy to fall asleep when you’re here."

Noel turned his head, eyes adjusting to the dark. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Luca said, smiling against the pillow. "Feels... safe."

Noel didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened just slightly around Luca’s.

That earned a quiet hum, a shared silence filled with everything neither of them needed to say.

Noel turned off the bedside lamp, and the room sank into that tender darkness—the kind that doesn’t hide but holds.

Luca shifted, his hand finding Noel’s, their fingers tangling lightly under the covers.

"Goodnight, boss," Luca murmured, half teasing.

"Goodnight, trouble," Noel said back, voice soft enough to disappear into the dark.

And somewhere between their breathing, the faint purr from the next room, and the warmth of shared quiet, the night exhaled—slow, content, and utterly theirs.