Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 211: Running Late, Falling Hard

The alarm had long gone silent.

The apartment was too still—that deceptive, cozy kind of quiet that only existed when people should’ve already been up.

Noel’s eyes blinked open to sunlight spilling bold across the sheets.

He squinted, groaned, and then saw the time glowing on the clock.

8:43.

For a moment, his brain stalled. Then—

"Shit."

He threw off the blanket, the cold air biting instantly.

Beside him, Luca barely stirred, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like five more minutes.

"No, five more minutes and we’re both unemployed," Noel said, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him once—not hard, just enough to wake the dead.

Luca flinched, half sitting up, hair sticking out in five directions. "What—what happened?"

"We overslept," Noel snapped, already halfway into his shirt. "It’s almost nine."

That did it.

Luca bolted upright. "What?! Why didn’t the alarm—"

"It did. You turned it off."

Luca froze mid-motion, guilt flickering across his face. "Oh."

Noel gave him a look that was equal parts disbelief and resignation. "Get dressed. Fast."

"Right, right." Luca scrambled out of bed, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull on his pants, nearly tripping over the cat, who darted out from underfoot with a sharp meow of protest. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"Sorry, buddy!" Luca yelled after him, grabbing a comb and giving up halfway through the first pass.

Noel was already tying his tie in the mirror, calm only in appearance. "You’ve got five minutes."

"I need at least ten to look decent."

"You need one to look human."

"That’s rude."

"That’s reality."

Luca shot him a glare, then caught sight of himself in the mirror and sighed. "Okay, fair."

They met at the door in a blur of jackets and shoes, both reaching for the same key at once.

"You didn’t eat," Noel reminded as he locked up.

"Neither did you."

"I’m fine."

"You always say that and then steal my snacks before lunch."

Noel exhaled, long-suffering. "Luca—"

"Fine," Luca said, waving a granola bar from his pocket like a peace offering. "Breakfast of champions. You can have half."

Noel stared, unimpressed. "You’re unbelievable."

"Thank you."

They dashed out the door, half laughing now, the tension melting into the rush of morning.

The elevator doors slid shut just as Noel loosened his tie with a small groan.

"This is your fault," he muttered.

"Technically, it’s our fault," Luca countered, grinning through his sleep-deprived mess. "We share everything, remember?"

Noel’s sigh turned into a quiet laugh despite himself. "Next time, I’m setting two alarms."

"Next time," Luca said, leaning against the elevator wall, "we just wake up at six and go back to sleep at seven. Problem solved."

The elevator dinged.

And as the doors opened to the familiar hum of the company lobby, they slipped right back into their practiced rhythm—two professionals pretending not to have sprinted out of bed ten minutes ago.

The elevator chimed open, spilling them into the glass-and-steel calm of the office lobby.

The air smelled faintly of coffee and printer ink—too bright, too organized for how disheveled they both felt.

Luca ran a hand through his hair, hoping it passed for intentional mess.

Noel straightened his tie one last time, the picture of calm professionalism—or at least the illusion of it.

"See you at lunch," Noel murmured, low enough that only Luca heard.

"Assuming Georgia doesn’t kill me first," Luca whispered back with a grin.

"She won’t. You’ll charm your way out of it."

"I always do."

Noel rolled his eyes but the edge of his mouth curved before he turned toward the fourth floor.

Luca watched him go for a heartbeat longer than he should’ve, then shook himself and headed toward his own section.

The creative floor was already alive—interns shuffling papers, someone arguing softly over font size, the faint whir of the coffee machine grinding beans.

Luca slipped in with the ease of someone who lived on caffeine and charm.

"Morning," Bella said without looking up from her screen.

"Barely," Luca muttered, dropping his bag onto his chair.

Bella glanced up then—one perfectly arched brow lifting as she took him in. "You look like you lost a fight with your pillow."

"I overslept," he said, flopping onto his chair. "Don’t start."

"Oh, I wasn’t going to start," Bella said sweetly, spinning her chair to face him. "I was going to ask if the reason you overslept has a name."

Luca groaned. "Bella."

She grinned, tapping her pen against the desk. "Come on, I’m just saying. You look way too happy for someone who’s late."

"Happy? I’m dying inside."

"Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what people say when they’ve been smiling since they walked in."

"I was smiling because I made it here alive."

"Or because someone woke you up."

Luca tried to look unbothered, failed spectacularly, and muttered, "You’re insufferable."

Bella laughed, leaning back in her chair. "It’s called observation, sweetheart. You should try it—might help your presentation skills."

He threw her a look but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You done?"

"For now." She swiveled back to her screen. "Georgia’s in early, by the way. She’s checking drafts."

"Of course she is," Luca murmured, rubbing his temples.

Bella glanced back. "You’ve got this, Luca. You always pull it together last second."

He sighed, stretching his arms. "Yeah, but maybe I want to not do it last second this time."

Bella smiled knowingly. "Then surprise us."

Luca smirked. "Watch me."

He slid his laptop open, the screen flaring to life—notes, mockups, the half-finished pitch deck he’d sworn to polish.

The usual chaos.

But this time, he wasn’t distracted.

Not by noise, not even by Bella’s teasing.

He wanted to get this right—really right.

And maybe, just maybe, to make Noel proud.

The office had softened into that midmorning lull—work humming along, keyboards tapping like rain on glass.

Somewhere, a printer whirred; someone laughed too loudly at a meme.

The energy wasn’t sharp yet, just quietly alive.

Wei Chen leaned against the edge of Camille’s desk, hands tucked into his pockets as they whispered over something on her screen.

Probably a layout—but from the glint in Camille’s eyes and the way Wei kept nodding with a grin, it was definitely gossip disguised as work.

"Did you hear what Georgia said yesterday?" Camille murmured.

Wei smirked. "About the ’minimalist’ design? Yeah. She said it looked like a toothpaste ad."

Camille snorted, half choking on her coffee. "Don’t! I was right there trying not to laugh."

Across the room, Liam sat with Luca and Bella at the shared table—his usual quiet presence grounding their energy.

Liam spoke sparingly, but when he did, people listened.

He was scrolling through data sheets now, pointing out something on the screen.

"So if we merge this with the second concept," he said, voice low, deliberate, "it actually makes the product story cleaner."

Luca leaned closer, nodding. "Yeah, less clutter, more focus. I like that."

Bella tapped her pen against the notebook. "It’ll also make the visual flow smoother—and Georgia loves clean lines. We might actually impress her this time."

Luca smirked. "You mean you’ll impress her. I’m just here for the creative chaos."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Please. You thrive on chaos."

Liam chuckled under his breath, a rare sound that made both of them pause.

"What?" Luca asked.

"Nothing," Liam said, shaking his head, faint amusement in his voice. "You two sound like siblings who forgot they’re in a corporate building."

"Hey, family energy builds teamwork," Luca said, spreading his hands innocently.

Bella shot back, "You mean it builds noise."

The laughter that followed was soft, easy—the kind that made the office feel less like a battlefield and more like a place they might actually belong.

But as the noise settled, Luca’s gaze drifted toward the glass wall dividing their section from the other departments.

The thought came without warning—quick, sharp, annoyingly domestic.

He hadn’t eaten. Neither had Noel.

A sigh slipped out before he could stop it.

He could picture him—sleeves rolled, brow furrowed, already neck-deep in work with nothing but coffee to keep him going.

"Luca?" Bella’s voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"You zoned out."

He blinked, forcing a grin. "Just thinking."

"About the project?"

"Sure," he said too quickly.

Bella studied him for a beat, the faintest knowing smile ghosting her lips. "Right."

Luca turned back to his laptop, pretending to scroll.

But his mind wasn’t on the slides—it was somewhere else entirely.

He tapped his pen against the desk, muttering under his breath, "Idiot’s probably running on caffeine again."

He sighed quietly, low enough that only Bella noticed.

"Seriously," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You’re thinking too hard for a guy who usually wings everything."

That earned her a crooked grin. "I’m evolving."

"Or distracted."

"Could be both."

Bella laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re hopeless."

"Hopelessly thoughtful," he said, already fishing out his phone.

She caught the flicker of his smile and snorted. "Sure, hero. Save whoever it is you’re thinking about."

Luca didn’t answer. His thumbs were already moving.

**You eat yet? Don’t make me sneak food into your office again.**

He hovered for a second, then hit send.

The faintest curve lifted the corner of his mouth—something warm, quiet, and entirely out of character.

Luca stared at his phone long enough for Bella to notice he wasn’t pretending to work anymore.

Still no reply.

He refreshed the chat like it might change something.

Nothing. Just the single gray tick staring back at him.

He typed again, slower this time.

**You seriously skipping meals again?**

A pause. Then—finally—the screen lit up.

**Busy. I’ll eat later.**

Luca exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound that carried more frustration than he meant it to.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, pushed his chair back, and stood.

"Where are you going?" Bella asked without looking up from her notes.

"Nowhere. Need air."

She hummed, unconvinced but distracted enough not to pry.

Luca crossed the open space quickly, keeping his head down as he slipped into the corridor.

He hit the elevator button and waited.

The light blinked once... then froze.

"Great," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The sign above flickered OUT OF SERVICE.

"Of course it is."

He took the stairs two at a time, the echo of his shoes against concrete breaking the silence.

One floor down—not that far, but enough to remind him how stubborn Noel could be.

By the time he reached the ground floor, he’d already made up his mind.

He pushed through the revolving doors and into the hum of the lobby café.

The barista glanced up. "The usual?"

"Make it two iced Americanos," Luca said, voice low. "And whatever’s quick—croissants, maybe sandwiches."

"Rough day?"

"Something like that."

A few minutes later, he stood there with a paper bag warm in his hand, condensation beading on the coffee cups.

He smiled faintly to himself—not the smug kind his classmates knew, but something quieter.

The kind you wear when you care more than you should.

"Busy, huh?" he murmured, staring at the label on the cup. "Let’s see how long that lasts."

He turned toward the stairwell again, ready to climb back up—carrying caffeine and care disguised as a delivery run.