Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 221: Mornings With You

The morning light spilled softly across the kitchen—warm, golden, unhurried.

The scent of toasted bread and coffee filled the air, a quiet rhythm marking the start of another workday.

Noel sat at the table, sleeves rolled neatly, watching as Luca fumbled with his tie one-handed while chewing at the same time.

"Slow down," Noel said, voice calm but amused. "You’re going to choke."

Luca waved him off, a muffled, "I’m fine—" escaping before, predictably, he coughed hard enough to prove himself wrong.

Noel sighed, already sliding his chair back.

He patted Luca’s back firmly, his tone caught somewhere between worry and resignation. "You never listen."

"Wasn’t—" cough "—planning to die before the presentation," Luca rasped, reaching for the glass of water Noel was already handing him.

"Good," Noel murmured. "Because I’m not doing CPR before coffee."

Luca swallowed, then laughed—soft, breathless, but genuine. "Noted."

He set the glass down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes flicking toward Noel. "You’re too calm for a man whose boyfriend is about to change marketing history."

Noel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh? Big words for someone who just lost a fight to toast."

"That toast came at me fast," Luca said, straight-faced. "You didn’t see it."

Noel chuckled, shaking his head. "You’ll be fine. You worked hard for this. The presentation will go well."

Luca leaned back in his chair, looking at him for a beat. "You really think so?"

"I don’t think," Noel said, sipping his coffee, "I know."

That small, steady confidence in his voice—simple, unshaken—hit deeper than any pep talk.

Luca’s shoulders eased, his grin softening into something quieter. "You always know what to say."

"Someone has to," Noel replied, standing to grab his bag. "Otherwise, you’ll start giving motivational speeches to the toaster again."

Luca laughed, following him toward the door. "Hey, that toaster believes in me."

"I’m sure it does."

At the doorway, Luca paused, hand brushing Noel’s arm. "Wish me luck?"

Noel looked up at him, the faintest smile curling his lips. "You don’t need luck, Luca. You’ve got this."

Luca leaned down, pressed a brief kiss against his forehead—a quiet thank-you without words. "Still feels better when you say it."

The cat meowed from the couch, as if impatient for them to leave already.

Noel grabbed his keys, giving Luca a look that was half fond, half exasperated. "Let’s go before you start trying to impress the cat too."

"Too late," Luca whispered dramatically, making Noel laugh all the way out the door.

The city was already pulsing awake when they stepped out—the morning, traffic weaving, phones ringing, heels clicking on marble.

The building loomed ahead, its glass walls catching the sunlight in clean, sharp reflections.

Inside the lobby, the air carried the usual hum of the day—busy, polished, impatient.

"Wait here," Luca said, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. "I’ll grab coffee. You can’t survive your fancy contracts without caffeine."

Noel arched a brow. "You’re just looking for an excuse to be late."

"Correction," Luca said, already backing away toward the café counter, "I’m looking for an excuse to make your morning better."

Noel shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping out despite himself.

He watched Luca at the counter—gesturing animatedly to the barista, probably overcomplicating a simple order.

The sight drew a warmth to his chest that he tried not to name.

When Luca returned, two cups in hand, his grin was bright enough to outshine the lobby lights. "See? No casualties. Extra shot, no sugar. Because you’re sweet enough already."

Noel gave him a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "You really need to stop talking like that in public."

"Why? People need hope."

"People need you to get to work on time."

Luca checked his watch, eyes widening slightly. "Right. Elevator. Now."

They walked together toward the glass doors, their reflections moving in tandem across the polished floor.

Noel pressed the button, and they waited in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from knowing someone well enough that words aren’t always necessary.

The elevator hummed quietly as it climbed, the metallic sheen of morning reflected in their faces.

Noel stood on one side, composed as always—dark shirt, calm posture, expression unreadable.

Luca leaned against the other wall, holding two coffee cups, his energy barely contained.

"Big day for you," Noel murmured under his breath, eyes forward.

"Big week for you," Luca countered softly. "First full project with Mr. Max, right?"

Noel hummed a quiet acknowledgment. "Mm. It’ll be fine."

Luca studied him through the reflection—his posture, his voice. "You sure?"

"Yes," Noel said simply. "Why?"

"Because you get that tone when you’re pretending not to be nervous."

Noel exhaled through his nose, fighting a smile. "Focus on your presentation, Luca."

"Already am," Luca said, a beat too quick. "Just... multitasking my concern."

The elevator chimed softly.

"Third floor for me," Luca said when the doors slid open.

Noel gave a small nod. "Don’t be late."

Luca grinned. "Me? Never." He handed Noel one of the cups. "Black. No sugar. Just the way you like it."

Noel took it, fingers brushing his briefly. "Thanks."

"Don’t thank me yet," Luca said, stepping out as the doors opened. "I might need that luck back later."

Noel’s lips curved faintly. "You won’t."

Luca turned, flashing him that confident grin that always looked half-sincere, half-silly. "See you later, Mr. Calm."

"Good luck, Mr. Toast."

The doors slid shut again, carrying Noel upward.

Luca lingered for a second, exhaling a deep breath before turning down the familiar corridor.

The hum of conversation, the click of keyboards, the faint scent of paper and brewed coffee—everything felt sharper today, more alive.

Bella spotted him first. "Morning, genius!" she called, waving a file in the air. "Ready to sell your miracle bottle?"

"Upgrade Your Sip," Luca corrected proudly, walking toward their desks. "It’s not just a bottle, Bella. It’s a lifestyle."

Liam rolled his eyes from behind his monitor. "You sound like a commercial already."

"That’s the point," Luca shot back, tossing his bag onto his chair. "We’ve got a client to charm, remember?"

Georgia’s office door opened just then, and her voice—steady, precise—carried across the floor. "Alright, team. Presentation at two. I want everything polished before lunch. And Luca—"

"Yes, boss?" he asked, straightening.

"You’re leading the pitch. Make sure it’s tight, confident,and doesn’t sound like a motivational speech to a TED Talk for appliances again."

Bella snorted, nearly choking on her drink. "She knows."

Luca groaned dramatically. "I’m never living that down, am I?"

Georgia smiled faintly. "Not as long as I’m your supervisor." She turned back toward her office. "Let’s make it count today."

The team scattered into motion—papers spread, designs adjusted, words rehearsed.

Luca sat down, running a finger along the edge of his notebook, eyes tracing the sketches of the bottle that started it all.

Bella nudged him. "Nervous?"

He looked up, grinning. "Terrified."

She laughed. "Good. Means you care."

Luca leaned back, glancing briefly toward the ceiling—toward the floor above where he knew Noel was buried in contracts and numbers.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I care."

Georgia moved to stand beside his desk, her eyes scanning the latest edits on his screen. "You tightened the tagline?"

"Yeah," Luca said, tapping the screen. "More direct. Less marketing fluff. Drink smart. Live clean."

Georgia gave a short nod. "Good. That works. Keep it clean, keep it human."

Bella sighed, rubbing her temple. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," Georgia said, but there was the faintest hint of a smile there. "You all did good work. Let’s make sure it shows."

Luca opened his laptop fully now, the screen glowing with the familiar deck: Upgrade Your Sip — A Smarter, Greener Choice.

The name still made him grin a little.

He’d fought for that title in three separate meetings.

Liam stretched in his chair. "How many times have you rehearsed this?"

"Enough to dream about it," Luca admitted.

"That’s either dedication or obsession," Wei Chen said from across the room, not looking up from his tablet.

"Both," Luca said without hesitation. "Definitely both."

Bella leaned over, squinting at his screen. "Did you change the intro slide again?"

"Twice," Luca said. "The font was bothering me."

"The font," Bella repeated flatly.

"It matters!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "You’re impossible."

Luca leaned back, stretching.

The nerves hadn’t hit yet—just that low hum of anticipation, the kind that came before something big.

He could feel it building, steady and sure, like a wave gathering momentum.

Across the room, Liam started humming under his breath, and Bella smacked his arm with a folder. "Focus, Liam."

"I am focused," Liam protested. "This is my focus hum."

Camila chuckled softly. "Your hum is off-key."

The small, familiar chaos settled into rhythm again.

Laptops clicked. Notes shuffled.

And Luca—somewhere in between his grin and his caffeine—felt that quiet fire in his chest.

This was it. His idea. Their teamwork. Their chance.

He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking toward the window where sunlight pooled across the glass, casting long golden streaks across the desks.

Outside, the city moved—endless, indifferent, alive.

But in here, in this moment, everything felt possible.

"Alright," he murmured to himself, the grin returning full force. "Let’s upgrade their sip."