Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 229: Always

The evening air carried a faint chill, the kind that slipped between the seams of a long day.

The streetlights blinked awake one by one as the team began to part ways near the crosswalk.

Bella adjusted her bag over her shoulder, her eyes glinting beneath the orange glow. "Alright, partner," she said lightly, giving Luca a nudge with her elbow. "Try not to overthink things tonight, okay?"

Luca gave a half-smile, hands in his pockets. "You say that like it’s easy."

Bella laughed. "Because it is. You just refuse to admit it."

He shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, sure. Easy."

She started down her side of the path, turning briefly to wave. "See you tomorrow, Luca. And seriously, don’t stew in your head."

He lifted a hand in lazy farewell, watching her disappear into the soft scatter of streetlights ahead.

Then it was just him—his footsteps echoing, the quiet rhythm of his thoughts too loud for comfort.

The walk home felt longer tonight, stretched thin by something he couldn’t quite name.

They usually walked together. Jokes, coffee stops, that easy chatter that made the city hum less. But now... it was just silence. Just him.

And somehow, that silence felt heavier than the whole day’s work.

Back in the office had thinned out, the hum of conversation replaced by the soft rhythm of typing and the faint buzz of the ceiling lights.

Noel sat at his desk, brows drawn together, fingers moving with quiet urgency over the keyboard.

Every few minutes, his gaze flicked toward his phone lying face-down beside him.

He never picked it up—just looked, as if the weight of it was pulling his focus sideways.

From the office, Mr. Max stepped out, jacket over one arm. "You don’t have to rush that, Noel," he said, his tone easy, almost indulgent. "It’s not a deadline tonight."

Noel kept his eyes on the screen. "I know, sir. I just... want to finish it before I go."

Max leaned against the edge of a desk, watching him. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"I like closing things properly," Noel replied, voice quiet but steady.

Max smiled faintly. "Alright, fair enough. But let me at least drive you home. It’s late."

Noel’s chair turned slightly as he shook his head. "Thank you, but it’s fine. Just a few minutes’ walk. I’ll be okay."

"Still," Max pressed, "it’s dark out. I wouldn’t mind. Or..."—his voice softened—"how about dinner before you go? You still owe me one, remember?"

Noel’s hands froze for half a second before he resumed typing. "I remember," he said with a small, apologetic smile. "But not tonight, sir. I already have somewhere to be."

Max studied him—something unreadable passing through his eyes—then gave a slow nod. "Alright. Rain check, then."

"Of course," Noel said gently. "Rain check."

But when Max turned back toward his office, Noel exhaled quietly, shoulders easing just a fraction—before glancing once more at his phone.

The last document closed with a soft click.

The glow from Noel’s monitor dimmed, leaving the office in a hush broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the faint shuffle of papers.

He sat back for a moment, exhaling through his nose, the kind of tired breath that carried more thoughts than words.

Then he straightened, stacking his notes neatly, slipping his laptop into its case.

Mr. Max’s door was half open, light spilling across the floor. Noel hesitated, then gave a gentle knock. "I’m heading out, sir."

Max looked up from a file, the faintest crease of concern on his face. "You sure you don’t want that ride?"

Noel smiled, polite but distant. "I’ll be fine. Thank you for today."

Max’s eyes lingered on him a beat longer than necessary before he nodded. "Get home safe, Noel."

"I will."

Noel gave a small bow of respect and walked out, the echo of his footsteps following him down the corridor.

By the time he reached the elevator, the silence felt heavier—like the building itself had gone to sleep.

He pressed the button, watching the numbers descend.

When the doors opened, his reflection in the metallic panel stared back at him: composed on the surface, but his grip on the strap of his bag told another story.

He stepped inside. The doors slid shut.

And with that, the night finally began.

The apartment was quiet when Noel stepped in, the faint scent of food drifting from the table.

He paused by the doorway, surprised to find the lights still on.

Luca sat on the couch, legs stretched out, absently tapping the cat’s paw with one finger.

The little furball batted back, as if they’d been playing that lazy rhythm for hours.

When the door clicked, Luca looked up. His expression softened—not surprised, not upset. Just... waiting.

"You’re late," he said, voice calm, carrying no accusation.

"I know," Noel replied, setting his bag down gently by the wall. "We had to review the reports again."

"Yeah, I figured," Luca said, pushing himself up. "So I ordered dinner. Don’t worry, it’s still warm."

Noel blinked, caught off guard. "You didn’t have to."

Luca gave a small shrug, walking toward the table. "You always skip meals when you’re tired. Consider this... risk management."

That earned the faintest smile from Noel. He stepped closer, the cat brushing against his leg. "You waited?"

"Of course I did." Luca’s tone was easy, but there was something steady underneath—something that didn’t need explanation.

Noel’s shoulders eased as he sat down. "You should’ve eaten first."

"I did. Half your fries," Luca said, smirking. "Quality check."

Noel laughed softly, shaking his head. "Figures."

Luca leaned against the counter, watching him unwrap the food.

The air between them felt light again, like the tension of the day had quietly decided to leave with Noel’s coat.

"Next time," Luca murmured, "just text me when you’re done."

Noel looked up, eyes meeting his. "Sure."

And that was all that needed to be said.

Noel quietly unpacked the takeout, the soft crinkle of the paper bag filling the silence.

Steam rose from the containers—fried rice, sweet chili chicken, and that soup Luca always insisted on ordering "just in case."

Luca sat on the arm of the couch, chin resting on his hand as he watched Noel dig in.

"You didn’t have to wait up," Noel said after a few bites, glancing up. "You’ve been working all day too."

"Yeah, well," Luca said, stretching his arms above his head, "you make it sound like I had somewhere else to be."

Noel gave a faint, tired smile. "You could’ve rested."

"I was resting," Luca countered. "Just... horizontally on the couch, worrying about your habit of skipping meals and saying you’re fine."

That made Noel pause mid-bite. His eyes softened, the smallest flicker of guilt passing through them. "Sorry," he murmured. "Didn’t mean to make you wait."

Luca shrugged. "You didn’t make me. I wanted to."

Noel lowered his gaze again, focusing on his food.

For a moment, neither of them spoke—the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward, just full of things unsaid.

Luca finally walked to the table, pulling out the chair beside him. "You’ve been quiet lately," he said gently. "Everything okay at work?"

"Yeah," Noel said after a pause. "Just learning a lot... trying not to mess up. Mr. Max pushes, but he’s fair. It’s good pressure."

Luca nodded slowly. "Sounds like he’s got high expectations."

"He does," Noel said, a hint of pride sneaking into his tone. "I don’t want to disappoint him."

Luca smiled faintly. "Or yourself."

That earned a small, almost shy glance from Noel. "Yeah," he said softly. "That too."

The cat hopped up between them, curling near Noel’s elbow, tail flicking lazily.

Luca reached out to stroke it, their hands brushing for just a second. Neither pulled away.

"Next time," Luca said, voice low, "let me walk you home. You don’t have to rush through the dark alone."

Noel looked at him, a gentle warmth flickering in his eyes. "Okay," he said quietly.

And for the first time that day, the air around them felt easy again—like home had been waiting for this exact stillness to return.

Noel stood, reaching for the empty containers, but Luca’s hand came out to stop him.

"Hey," Luca said softly, "leave it. I’ll handle the cleanup."

Noel blinked, half-protesting already. "You’ve been waiting for me all evening, at least let me—"

"Go shower," Luca interrupted, not unkindly. "You look like you’ve been fighting the whole export department."

That earned him a quiet laugh from Noel—small, weary, but real. "Close enough."

"Exactly," Luca said, stacking the boxes neatly. "So, go. I’ll toss this out before it starts smelling like cafeteria food in here."

Noel hesitated, eyes flicking from the table to Luca, then down to the cat curling around his ankles.

The fatigue in his shoulders seemed to melt a little under Luca’s steady tone. "You’re bossy when you want to be," he murmured.

Luca grinned. "Only when necessary."

Noel gave up the argument with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. But don’t touch my leftover soup."

"I wouldn’t dare," Luca said, smirking. "You guard that thing like it’s national treasure."

Noel turned toward the hallway, pausing just long enough to glance back.

The light from the kitchen caught in his eyes,soft, glimmering like gratitude unspoken. "Thanks... for waiting," he said quietly.

Luca’s hands stilled on the table. "Always," he replied.

Noel didn’t answer, just smiled faintly before disappearing down the hall.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut followed, and then the gentle hiss of water began to fill the apartment—steady, calm, like the world outside didn’t exist for a while.

Luca looked toward the closed door, his lips curving into something between affection and longing.

The cat meowed softly, as if catching his thought.

"Yeah," Luca murmured under his breath, gathering the last of the takeout boxes. "He drives me crazy... but damn, I wouldn’t change a thing."