Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 87: Almost Lost You

The low hum of music blurred around him, lights flickering softly against the dark wood of the club walls.

Noel sat still, eyes on the door.

He barely noticed the figure that slid into the booth across from him—smooth, confident, as if he belonged anywhere he sat.

"You must be Noel."

Noel blinked. A guy in a black shirt slid into the booth, chain glinting beneath the collar—messy, deliberate, confident.

His smirk was sharp, not wide, and his eyes held a kind of practiced calm.

"I’ve heard about you," the stranger said, resting his elbow on the table like they were already mid-conversation.

Noel straightened slightly, cautious. "And you are...?"

"Kian." He smiled, slow and casual. "I’m sure the name’s come up."

Noel’s stomach tensed.

Kian leaned forward, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. Confident. Effortless. The kind of guy people liked quickly. Noel couldn’t be more different.

"Relax. I’m not here to fight over him or anything. It’s not that kind of drama."

Noel didn’t respond. freёwebnoѵel.com

Kian glanced at the untouched soda in front of him. "You’re not drinking?"

"I’m fine."

"C’mon," Kian said lightly, waving down a server. "One drink’s not gonna hurt. You’re sitting alone in a club. You either need company or stronger coping mechanisms."

Noel gave him a flat look. "Why are you here?"

"Me?" Kian tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Coincidence. I hang out here a lot. I was just surprised when the bartender said someone was waiting for Luca. And I thought, huh... must be the new guy."

The words hit like a tap to the ribs.

Noel said nothing.

Kian’s drink arrived. He pushed another glass across the table — something pale with lime. "Relax. It’s light. I’m not trying to get you blackout."

Noel hesitated.

But Kian’s tone stayed so casual, so unbothered, that the refusal caught in his throat. He picked up the glass.

Just one sip.

Kian watched him. Then smiled faintly. "You’re cute when you’re tense. No wonder Luca still talks about you."

That made Noel pause mid-drink.

Kian leaned in, forearms on the table now. "You know, I don’t blame him. He always had a thing for lost boys. Guys who needed fixing."

Noel stiffened. "I’m not some project."

Kian shrugged. "Sure. That’s what the last one said."

Noel’s throat burned slightly — whether from the drink or the words, he didn’t know.

Kian’s voice softened, mock-sincere. "Look, I’m not here to pick a fight. I just think... you should know what you’re walking into.

Luca’s got this way of pouring himself into someone until they lean on him completely. Then when it gets too real?" He made a gentle, flicking motion. "He disappears."

Noel gritted his teeth.

"That’s not true."

Kian smiled. "Isn’t it?"

He took another slow sip of his drink, then rested his hand on the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.

The second drink sat between them now, condensation pooling into a ring on the table.

Noel stared at it.

Kian leaned back in the booth like he belonged there, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers turning his glass in slow circles.

His shirt was open just enough to look effortless. His expression? Amused, relaxed — but there was something colder beneath it.

"I won’t lie," he said casually. "I was surprised when Luca moved out of his old place. Just... suddenly up and gone. And then he stopped texting back as much. Stopped meeting up."

Noel didn’t respond.

Kian gave a short laugh. "Didn’t take long to guess why."

His eyes flicked toward Noel. "You."

Noel stiffened slightly.

"I mean, I’ve known him for years," Kian went on. "Since high school. And he’s not the type to drift unless something — or someone — really gets in his head."

Noel swallowed, trying not to let it show.

Kian took a sip, then set the glass down with a soft clink. "I’m guessing you two are close now."

Noel’s voice was steady. "We live together."

Kian smirked faintly. "Yeah, I figured. And let me guess... things got real? Luca started acting like someone else. Sweeter. More... serious."

Noel gave a short glance toward the entrance again. Still no sign of him.

Kian leaned forward just slightly. "You know, he was different with me, too. At first. Always trying to help. Trying to understand. He’s got this way of slipping into your world — making you feel like you matter more than you do."

That landed harder than it should have.

Noel’s hand tightened slightly on the edge of the table.

Kian’s voice dropped lower, more deliberate now. "He always did love fixing people. Made him feel in control."

Noel stared down at his drink, jaw clenching.

"And when he’s done?" Kian shrugged. "He moves on. You don’t even notice the moment he lets go... until he’s already gone."

Noel took another sip. Not because he wanted to — but because the bitterness in his chest needed something to dull it.

Kian sat back again, tone softer now, but edged. "I’m not saying this to start something. I just think... you should know who you’re dealing with."

Noel looked up at him. "And why do you care?"

Kian met his eyes.

"Because I still care about him."

There it was. Not a confession. Not a threat. Just a fact, left on the table between them like a loaded card.

Then, quieter: "And maybe... you’re just the one he’s running to. Not the one he’ll stay with."

Noel drank again, faster this time.

It burned.

But not more than that thought.

The candle on the table flickered, casting shadows up Noel’s cheekbones.

The second drink was nearly gone. He didn’t remember finishing it. Just the blur of Kian’s voice, steady and cutting. The soft clink of glass.

The dim, pulsing music in the background, like a heartbeat trying to keep rhythm in a room full of ghosts.

Kian pushed the third drink toward him now. No pressure. No words.

Just a slight nod — go on — like it was the most harmless thing in the world.

Noel looked at it.

And then he took it.

Because Kian was wrong. And maybe he was right. And maybe Noel didn’t want to think about either anymore.

Noel took a shaky sip.

Slowly.

From behind the bar, the door swung open again.

The soft jingle of the bell barely reached Noel’s ears — but it reached the bartender’s.

And it reached Luca.

He stepped inside beside Jordan, the two of them brushing off the early summer wind as they approached the bar. Luca had changed into a clean gray tee, hair pulled back loosely.

The edge of last night was still on him — in the way his shoulders sagged slightly, in the way his hand moved half-heartedly through his pocket for something he’d forgotten.

"You guys have Luca’s phone?" Jordan asked, flashing his usual grin.

The bartender nodded, reaching under the counter. "Good timing. Your friend came looking earlier."

Luca blinked. "What friend?"

The bartender nodded subtly toward the booth by the window.

Luca turned.

And his heart dropped.

Kian.

Sitting across from Noel.

Noel, slouched slightly now, drink in hand — pale in the face, but holding eye contact like it cost him something.

Luca didn’t move.

He stared for a beat longer, like his brain was trying to rewrite the scene in front of him. Like maybe if he just stood still enough, it would change.

Then—

From the booth, Kian’s voice lifted, just audible over the music.

"Just drink and forget everything," he said, lifting his glass with a slight smirk.

Noel drank.

Luca stopped cold. His gut twisted. There was Noel—flushed, drinking. And across from him, Kian. Smirking like he’d already won.

Luca didn’t breathe. Then he moved. Fast.

Jordan caught the tension and reached for Luca’s arm. "Hey—"

But Luca was already walking.

Steady. Direct.

Luca crossed the room without a word, each step tighter than the last. The lights blinked dimly above him, music low and slow now — but none of it touched him.

His eyes were fixed on Noel.

And Noel... barely looked up.

His cheeks were flushed, his hair slightly damp at the nape. One hand rested on his third drink.

His gaze was unfocused, but when Luca’s shadow reached the table, something shifted behind his eyes.

"Noel," Luca said — softly, not harsh. Just his name, like a question wrapped in worry.

Kian turned lazily in his seat, not surprised. "Wow," he said under his breath, "this got dramatic quick."

Luca ignored him.

He reached across the table, gently wrapping his fingers around Noel’s wrist.

"Come on," he said. "We’re leaving."

Noel didn’t move at first. Just blinked, slow and heavy. Then, in a quiet voice, slurred but still somehow sharp:

"You like guys who party."

Luca froze.

Noel looked away, almost like he was embarrassed to be saying it out loud — like it had been sitting in his chest all day, waiting to rot.

"I’m not like him," Noel mumbled. "I don’t go to clubs. I don’t flirt with everyone. I don’t know how to... be fun."

His breath caught.

"I’m boring."

Luca’s grip tightened slightly, but not harshly. "Noel—"

"You really like that Kian guy, huh?" Noel’s voice cracked right at the edge. He turned his eyes back to Luca now, glassy and confused. "He’s exciting. You have history. You smile around him."

Luca swallowed, stunned. "I— What? No—"

"He said you always try to fix people," Noel whispered, eyes flicking to Kian. "Maybe I’m just the next one."

Kian didn’t say a word — he didn’t need to. The damage was done, and he knew it.

Luca’s heart sank.

He crouched beside the booth now, bringing himself to eye level with Noel.

"Hey," he said, voice breaking through everything else. "Look at me."

Noel’s gaze flicked toward him, unsteady.

"I don’t care about Kian," Luca said, slow and clear. "He’s my past. You’re... You’re what I want."

Noel looked like he might argue, but Luca was already slipping an arm around his waist, lifting him gently out of the booth.

Noel leaned on him without protest.

Luca shot a sharp glance at Kian — not with rage, but something colder. Finished.

Jordan met them at the entrance just as they reached the door, holding Luca’s phone. He didn’t ask questions — just opened the door, letting them pass into the cool evening air.

Outside, under the streetlight, Noel’s body trembled slightly.

Luca wrapped his jacket around him.

"Let’s go home," he said softly.

Noel didn’t answer.

But he didn’t let go.

The walk back was silent.

Noel leaned against Luca the whole way, not quite drunk enough to stumble, but not steady enough to pretend he wasn’t unraveling either.

The night air clung to them — thick, damp — as if the city itself was holding its breath.

By the time they reached the dorm, Noel’s head had dropped lightly against Luca’s shoulder, his fingers still curled in the edge of Luca’s jacket.

Luca unlocked the door quietly, guiding him in.

The room was dark, only the glow of the hallway spilling in for a second before the door clicked shut behind them.

Noel let go.

He crossed the room slowly, not bothering to turn on the light.

Then he sat on the edge of his bed.

And fell backward.

Arms sprawled. Eyes to the ceiling.

The silence stretched.

Luca stood there in the dark, still near the door, watching him like he didn’t know whether to go to him or give him space.

His hand hovered near the light switch, but didn’t move.

Then—

From the bed, Noel’s voice came, soft. Barely there.

"You really like that Kian guy."

Luca’s throat tightened.

Noel didn’t look at him. Didn’t turn his head. Just lay there, staring at nothing, eyes half-lidded, heart somewhere far from his body.

"I saw the way you looked at him," Noel added, slower this time. "Like you used to."

Luca crossed the room, but stopped at the edge of Noel’s bed.

"I don’t," he said quietly.

"You did."

Noel’s voice was flat now. Like the words were dragging their weight behind them.

"He knows you," he whispered. "He’s easy to be with. I’m not."

Luca crouched beside the bed, hands braced on his knees. He didn’t speak yet. Just watched Noel’s chest rise and fall — too fast for sleep, too slow for calm.

"I should’ve gotten there sooner."

Noel didn’t respond.

"I hate that he got to you before I did."

After a long moment, Luca reached forward.

He gently slipped off Noel’s shoes. Then pulled the blanket halfway over him.

Still, Noel didn’t move.

Luca stood again, lingered.

Then turned to his own bed.

He sat on the edge of it, staring at the floor, jaw clenched, chest full of all the words he didn’t know how to give voice to.

Across the room, Noel let out one shaky breath.

But didn’t say anything else.

And the dorm filled with the kind of silence that only hurts when something important hasn’t been said.

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