Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 235: Close but Apart

The lobby was emptying out, the last wave of employees streaming toward the exits in clusters of tired conversation and relieved laughter.

Luca stood near the glass doors, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the weight pressing down on his chest.

His phone buzzed again.

**Noel:** Heading down now.

Luca’s thumb hovered over the screen. He almost typed something, How was your day? Did anything happen? but the words felt too loaded, too obvious.

So he just pocketed the phone and waited.

When the elevator doors finally opened and Noel stepped out, Luca’s heart did that familiar, painful thing—clenched tight, then released all at once.

Noel looked tired but calm, his tie loosened, bag slung over one shoulder, a faint smile pulling at his lips when he spotted Luca.

"Hey," Noel said, walking over. "Sorry, got held up with some last-minute edits."

"It’s fine," Luca replied, turning toward the doors without meeting his eyes. "Let’s go."

Noel blinked, the smile faltering slightly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Luca said, pushing the door open. "Just tired."

They stepped out into the cool evening air.

The city hummed around them—cars passing, voices blending, the distant clatter of a street vendor packing up for the night.

But between them, the silence was thick, almost suffocating.

Noel glanced sideways at Luca as they walked. "Long day?"

"Something like that," Luca said.

"Georgia keep you busy?"

"Yeah."

Noel’s brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t used to this—Luca’s answers clipped and short, his gaze fixed straight ahead like he was trying to outrun something.

They reached the crosswalk. The light was red.

They stopped, standing side by side, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

Almost.

Noel shifted his weight, glancing at Luca’s profile. "Did something happen?"

Luca’s jaw tightened. "No."

"You sure?"

"I said no, Noel."

The sharpness in his tone made Noel flinch. Just a little barely noticeable—but Luca saw it out of the corner of his eye.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his voice softer. "Sorry. I’m just... it’s been a long day."

"Okay," Noel said quietly. "If you want to talk about it—"

"Not now."

The light turned green.

They crossed in silence.

By the time they reached the apartment building, the tension had settled into something almost unbearable.

Luca unlocked the door, stepping inside first.

The cat appeared immediately, meowing loudly, winding between their legs.

"Hey, buddy," Noel murmured, crouching down to scratch behind its ears.

The cat purred, pressing into his hand, and for a moment, Noel’s expression softened.

Luca watched from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. "I’ll feed him."

"I can do it," Noel offered, standing.

"I’ve got it," Luca replied, already moving toward the cupboard.

Noel hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright."

He set his bag down by the wall and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair.

When he turned back, Luca was scooping food into the cat’s bowl, his movements precise and controlled—too controlled.

Noel leaned against the counter, watching him. "Luca."

"Mmm?" Luca didn’t look up.

"Are you mad at me?"

Luca’s hand stilled for half a second before he set the bowl down on the floor.

The cat dove in immediately, crunching loudly.

"No," Luca said, straightening. "Why would I be mad?"

"I don’t know," Noel said carefully. "That’s why I’m asking."

Luca finally looked at him, and for a moment, Noel saw something flicker across his face,something raw and unguarded but then it was gone, buried beneath a neutral mask.

"I’m not mad," Luca said quietly. "I’m just tired. That’s all."

Noel didn’t believe him. He could see it in the way Luca’s shoulders stayed tense, in the way he avoided holding eye contact for too long, in the way his voice had gone flat and careful.

But he didn’t know how to push without making it worse.

So he just nodded. "Okay."

Luca turned away, opening the fridge. "You want dinner? I can order something."

"I’m not that hungry," Noel said. "Are you?"

"Not really."

"Then let’s just... take it easy tonight," Noel suggested gently. "We can watch something. Or just sit."

Luca closed the fridge, staring at the handle for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Sure."

They ended up on the couch—Luca on one end, Noel on the other, the cat sprawled between them like a furry boundary neither of them dared to cross.

Noel had his laptop open, pretending to review notes.

Luca scrolled through his phone, pretending to care about whatever was on the screen.

Neither of them spoke.

The apartment felt too quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed down on everything and made even breathing feel loud.

After a while, Noel closed his laptop and set it aside. "Hey."

Luca’s thumb paused mid-scroll. "Yeah?"

"Did I do something wrong today?"

Luca’s chest tightened. He kept his eyes on his phone. "No."

"Then why does it feel like you’re angry with me?"

"I’m not angry," Luca said, his voice strained. "I told you—I’m just tired."

"You keep saying that," Noel said softly. "But it doesn’t feel true."

Luca finally looked up, and the hurt in his eyes was so clear, so raw, that Noel’s breath caught.

"What do you want me to say, Noel?" Luca asked quietly. "That I had a bad day? Fine. I had a bad day. Happy?"

"No," Noel said, shaking his head. "I’m not happy. Because you won’t tell me what’s wrong."

Luca’s jaw worked. He looked away, fingers tightening around his phone. "It doesn’t matter."

"It does to me."

"Well, maybe it shouldn’t," Luca shot back, voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face with both hands. "Sorry. I didn’t mean—"

"Luca." Noel’s voice was gentle now, almost pleading. "Please. Just talk to me."

For a long moment, Luca didn’t say anything.

He just sat there, staring at the floor, the weight of Max’s words still echoing in his head.

"You got under my skin."

"I can’t ignore it anymore."

He didn’t know what Noel had said in return.

Didn’t know if Noel had smiled, or hesitated, or felt anything at all.

And that not-knowing was eating him alive.

But he couldn’t ask.

Because asking meant admitting he’d been listening.

Asking meant admitting he was jealous, insecure, afraid.

So instead, he just shook his head. "I’m fine, Noel. Really. I just need some sleep."

Noel’s expression fell, something crumbling behind his eyes. "Okay," he said quietly. "If that’s what you need."

Luca stood, pocketing his phone. "I’m going to bed."

"It’s only eight," Noel said.

"I know."

He didn’t wait for a response.

He just walked down the hallway, disappearing into the bedroom and closing the door softly behind him.

Noel sat alone on the couch, staring at the empty space where Luca had been.

The cat meowed softly, nudging his hand.

Noel scratched behind its ears absently, his throat tight. "I don’t know what I did," he whispered. "But I think I hurt him."

The cat didn’t answer.

And the apartment stayed quiet.

Noel sat on the couch long after Luca had disappeared into the bedroom.

The cat had settled into his lap, purring softly, but the comfort it usually brought felt distant tonight—like trying to warm yourself with a candle in the middle of winter.

He stared at the closed bedroom door, his mind turning over every conversation they’d had in the past few days, searching for the moment things had shifted.

The dinner. The silence. The careful distance.

*What did I miss?*

His phone buzzed on the cushion beside him. A work email. He ignored it.

After a while, he stood, gently setting the cat down.

It stretched lazily and padded off toward the balcony.

Noel rubbed his face with both hands, exhaling slowly, then walked quietly down the hallway.

The bedroom door was still closed.

He stood there for a moment, hand hovering near the handle, listening.

Nothing.

No sound. No movement.

He knocked softly. "Luca?"

Silence.

"You awake?"

A pause. Then, quietly: "Yeah."

Noel pushed the door open.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains.

Luca was lying on his side, facing the wall, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders.

He didn’t turn around.

Noel stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. "You’re not asleep."

"Didn’t say I was," Luca replied, voice muffled.

Noel stood there for a moment, uncertain.

Then he moved quietly to his side of the bed and sat down on the edge, not lying down yet—just sitting, hands resting on his knees.

"I know you said you’re fine," Noel began softly, "but... I don’t think you are."

Luca didn’t respond.

Noel’s fingers curled slightly against his legs. "And I don’t know what I did, but if I hurt you somehow, I’m sorry. I really am."

Still nothing.

Noel exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. "I just... I wish you’d tell me. Because this—" His voice cracked slightly. "This feels worse than fighting. At least when we fight, I know what’s wrong."

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the city outside.

Then, quietly, barely above a whisper: "You didn’t do anything wrong."

Noel’s chest tightened. "Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

Luca’s breath hitched just slightly, but Noel heard it.

"You’re not," Luca said, voice strained. "I’m just... dealing with something. It’s not your fault."

"Then let me help," Noel pleaded softly. "Please."

Luca finally turned over, just enough to look at him.

His eyes were shadowed in the dim light, but Noel could see the exhaustion there the weight of something he was carrying alone.

"You can’t help with this one, I’m trying to figure it." Luca said quietly.

"Why not?"

Luca looked away again. "Because I don’t even know how to talk about it."

Noel’s heart ached.

He wanted to reach out, wanted to pull Luca close and tell him it didn’t matter, that whatever it was, they’d figure it out together.

But something held him back.

The distance between them felt fragile, like touching it might shatter something important.

So instead, he just nodded. "Okay," he said softly. "But when you’re ready... I’m here. Always."

Luca’s jaw tightened, his throat working like he was swallowing something down. "I know," he whispered.

Noel stood slowly, moving around to his side of the bed. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

He pulled back the blanket and slipped in, lying down carefully, leaving space between them.

They lay there in the darkness, close but not touching, the silence stretching long and heavy.

After a while, Noel spoke again, voice barely audible. "Goodnight, Luca."

A pause.

Then, quieter than a breath: "Night, Noel."

Neither of them slept for a long time.

Luca lay there, eyes open, staring at the wall.

His mind replayed Max’s words over and over, each repetition carving deeper into the ache in his chest.

And beneath it all, the question he couldn’t shake:

*What did Noel say?*

He wanted to ask. Wanted to roll over, wake Noel up, and just demand the truth.

But he was afraid.

Afraid of the answer. Afraid of what it might mean.

Afraid that asking would make him sound small and insecure and unworthy of someone like Noel.

So he stayed silent.

And the space between them grew a little wider.

On the other side of the bed, Noel lay on his back, eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling.

He thought about Max’s office.

The conversation they’d had earlier.

He’d been honest. Clear. He’d said what he needed to say.

But now, lying here in the dark, he wondered if that honesty had cost him something he didn’t realize.

Did Luca see us? Did someone tell him?

He wanted to ask. Wanted to turn over and explain everything.

But Luca had said he wasn’t ready to talk. And Noel didn’t want to push.

So he stayed silent.

And the space between them grew a little colder.

Eventually, exhaustion won.

Luca’s breathing evened out first, his body finally surrendering to sleep even as his mind stayed restless.

Noel listened to the sound of it steady, rhythmic, familiar and felt his own eyes grow heavy.

Just before he drifted off, he whispered into the darkness, so quietly he wasn’t even sure Luca could hear:

"I chose you. I’ll always choose you."

But Luca was already asleep.

And the words hung in the air, unheard.

Inside, two people lay side by side, hearts aching in the silence, both waiting for the other to speak first.