Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 217: Two Floors Apart

The morning came too fast—Friday always did.

Luca shifted first, his face buried against Noel’s shoulder, hair a soft mess of sleep and warmth.

His arm was flung lazily across Noel’s chest, his voice still rough when he mumbled, "It’s Friday. We should call in sick and declare it a national holiday."

Noel’s eyes opened, heavy with that quiet calm he always carried. "On what grounds?" he asked, his tone still low from sleep.

"On the grounds of love and exhaustion," Luca said, lifting his head just enough to meet his eyes. "We’ve worked all week. Don’t you think the economy can survive one day without us?"

Noel hummed, tracing a slow line down Luca’s arm with his thumb. "You’d still answer emails from bed."

"Not if you distract me," Luca countered, grinning as he leaned in and brushed a kiss against Noel’s jaw.

"Tempting," Noel said, his lips curving faintly. "But we both know you’d regret it once your caffeine withdrawal hits."

Luca groaned, rolling onto his back. "Why do you have to be the voice of reason and look good while doing it?"

"Bad genetics," Noel said dryly, swinging his legs out of bed.

Luca laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet morning. "You’re impossible."

By the time they were both dressed, the small apartment was alive with their easy rhythm—the sound of the kettle, the quiet clink of cups, Noel fixing his tie in the mirror while Luca leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand, watching him like it was his favorite show.

"Stop staring," Noel said without turning.

"Can’t. It’s my morning ritual," Luca replied, smirking.

They left together, side by side, like they always did—professionalism switched on the moment they crossed the company’s glass doors.

Upstairs, their worlds split neatly into two floors—business on one, trade and export on the other—parallel lives moving in sync but separate.

The days rolled quickly after that. Friday blurred into the weekend.

Saturday came with laughter and lazy cooking.

Sunday with the quiet kind of peace only shared spaces know—grocery runs, laundry half-folded, music floating between rooms.

And then, as the sky softened into evening, they found themselves on the balcony—barefoot, side by side, a cat curled at their feet.

The city below hummed softly, lights flickering like distant stars.

The breeze tugged gently at Luca’s shirt.

He leaned against Noel’s shoulder, the faint music from his phone spilling low and warm—something slow, something that didn’t ask for words.

"This is my favorite part of the week," Luca said quietly.

Noel’s hand brushed his, fingers intertwining without effort. "Because it’s quiet?"

"Because it’s you," Luca said, his tone half-tease, half-truth.

Noel didn’t reply right away. He only turned his head slightly, pressing a slow kiss to Luca’s hair. "Then let’s make it last a little longer."

The cat stretched, the city breathed, and the night carried on—steady, patient, the kind of peace that felt earned.

The music played softly from Luca’s phone—a slow, honey-smooth melody that barely filled the air, more a hum than a sound.

The kind of song that felt like it knew better than to interrupt the quiet.

Luca rested his chin on Noel’s shoulder, eyes half-closed as he watched the city flicker. "You ever think about how fast the week goes?" he murmured.

"Only when you’re talking this much," Noel said lightly, his arm draped over Luca’s waist.

Luca laughed, the sound low, lazy. "You like it. Admit it."

"I tolerate it," Noel replied, though his thumb kept tracing slow, absent circles against Luca’s side.

The cat yawned, stretching its paw onto Luca’s foot before curling back up again.

Luca glanced down and smiled. "Look at him. No worries, no deadlines, just naps and food."

"You could take notes," Noel murmured.

"I’d have to start by being adorable and spoiled," Luca said. "Oh wait, that’s already taken."

Noel turned his head slightly, their faces now close enough for Luca to see the faint glint of amusement in his eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re still here," Luca countered softly.

That earned a quiet laugh from Noel—the kind that wasn’t loud, but warm, rare, real.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Luca’s temple. "Let’s get to bed. You’ll fall asleep out here."

"Maybe I like it here," Luca murmured, but he didn’t pull away when Noel stood and reached out his hand.

"Come on," Noel said.

Luca sighed, pretending to resist before slipping his hand into Noel’s.

Their fingers fit easily—too easily—and he let himself be pulled up.

The cat trailed behind them lazily as they crossed the living room, lights dim, shadows soft.

In their room, Luca climbed onto the bed first, sinking into the sheets that still held the faint warmth of the afternoon sun.

Noel joined him, switching off the bedside lamp until only the faint city glow spilled through the curtains.

Luca turned to face him, voice quiet, almost sleepy. "You think Monday will be rough?"

"It’s Monday," Noel said simply.

Luca smiled faintly. "Then we’ll survive it together."

"Always," Noel said, brushing a hand through Luca’s hair before leaning in to kiss him—soft, unhurried, like a promise whispered instead of spoken.

When they finally pulled apart, the cat jumped onto the foot of the bed, curling into its usual spot.

Luca yawned, curling into Noel’s chest, the world fading into stillness around them.

"Goodnight, boss," he murmured.

"Goodnight, trouble," Noel whispered back.

The city outside carried on, but inside that room, everything was quiet—steady breaths, shared warmth, the soft hum of something that felt like forever.

Monday morning arrived with the inevitability of a deadline no one could negotiate away.

The kitchen smelled like toasted bread and fresh coffee—the kind of scent that should’ve meant peace, but somehow carried the quiet rhythm of Noel’s patience thinning by the second.

He stood near the counter, arms crossed, watch glinting beneath the morning light. "Luca," he said evenly, "we’re going to be late."

Luca didn’t even look up. "You said that ten minutes ago." He tore another bite from his sandwich, slow, deliberate, as if trying to make a point.

"I was right then," Noel said, voice clipped, "and I’m still right now."

"Relax, boss," Luca drawled, waving his fork lazily. "The company won’t collapse if we show up five minutes late."

Noel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Testing me."

Luca looked up, grinning like he’d just been caught red-handed. "Maybe. It’s good for your emotional growth."

"You sound like a therapist I didn’t hire," Noel muttered, leaning against the counter.

The cat hopped onto a stool beside Luca, tail flicking in lazy approval as Luca offered it a crumb of egg. "See?" Luca said. "Even he agrees with me. Breakfast before business."

"You’re both impossible," Noel said, but his tone softened.

Luca finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "You could just sit with me, you know. I eat faster when someone appreciates my company."

"Appreciates," Noel repeated dryly. "That’s one way to describe babysitting you."

"Admit it," Luca said, smirking, "you like watching me."

That earned him a sharp look—the kind that said *don’t push it*, but Noel’s mouth betrayed him with the faintest twitch.

"Finish up," Noel said finally, turning toward the door. "You’ve got two minutes."

"Three," Luca bargained.

Noel stopped, hand resting on the doorframe, and looked back over his shoulder. "Two. And if you’re late, you’re carrying my reports for the day."

Luca’s grin widened. "Kinky threat."

"Luca."

"Fine, fine," he said quickly, stuffing the last bite into his mouth. "You’re so dramatic before 9 a.m."

Noel exhaled, shaking his head, but when Luca grabbed his jacket and walked past him, brushing their shoulders together, the faintest ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of Noel’s lips.

As they stepped out, Luca bumped his arm lightly. "See? We made it. Still alive. No corporate apocalypse."

Noel shot him a sidelong glance. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

Luca’s grin turned smug. "Finally, some honesty before coffee."

Noel didn’t reply—but the warmth in his silence said everything.

The glass doors sighed open with a soft whoosh, letting in the muted hum of morning chatter and the click of heels against polished floors.

Luca stepped in first, coffee still in hand, the scent of roasted beans trailing faintly behind him.

Noel followed—every bit composed, shirt crisp, expression already switching into that calm, unreadable professionalism that came so naturally to him once he crossed this threshold.

The lobby was alive—interns moving in pairs, staff greeting each other, the low murmur of phones ringing somewhere in the background.

"Morning, sir," the receptionist greeted Noel politely, her eyes briefly flicking to Luca beside him.

"Morning," Noel returned, voice smooth, clipped. All business now.

Luca just smiled faintly, pretending to check his phone instead of acknowledging how fast Noel could switch modes—from soft-spoken man who brushed crumbs off his shirt to the composed, untouchable Noel everyone here knew.

They reached the elevators together.

The mirrored doors caught their reflections—two men standing close but not too close, like they’d silently practiced this distance a hundred times.

"Back to pretending we don’t know each other?" Luca murmured, eyes on the floor numbers.

Noel didn’t turn his head. "We don’t pretend," he said quietly. "We maintain professionalism."

"Uh-huh," Luca hummed. "Such a romantic way to say, ’act like strangers, babe.’"

Noel’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic expression. "Stop talking before someone hears you."

"Relax," Luca said, voice low but teasing. "No one’s listening."

The elevator dinged—third floor.

"This is me," Luca said, stepping out and flashing him a grin. "See you later, boss."

Noel looked at him—just a heartbeat too long—before the doors slid shut again.

The mirrored surface reflected his face back at him, calm, collected... but his eyes gave him away.

They softened—barely—before he turned to face forward again.

The next stop came. Fourth floor.

Noel stepped out into the corridor, where Ren and Jace were already gathered with files in hand, chatting lightly about the new reports.

"Morning, Noel," Jace greeted.

"Morning," he replied evenly, walking past them toward his desk—already slipping back into his role, the invisible line between who he was here and who he was with Luca drawn cleanly, quietly.

But as he settled into his chair and opened his laptop, his phone buzzed once on the desk.

A text from Luca: *Miss me yet?*

Noel’s mouth curved—just slightly—before he typed back: *Focus on work.*

The reply came instantly: *You first.*

He didn’t respond. But he didn’t delete it either.