Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 237: Tonight… Or Never

Downstairs, the third floor was already alive—keyboards clacking in tempo, phones chiming like impatient metronomes, voices weaving through the air in hushed, efficient threads.

It felt like stepping onto the stage of a play everyone already knew by heart.

Luca sat at his desk pretending to work, the spreadsheet glowing, untouched, like it was judging him for even trying.

Georgia had dropped the morning tasks on his desk with her usual brisk confidence—client follow-ups, data entry, internal reviews.

He’d nodded, promised he’d handle it, and she’d already moved on.

Now the files sat open. And useless. Just like his focus.

"Earth to Luca."

He blinked back into reality.

Bella stood beside him, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted just enough to make the question sting. "You’ve been hypnotized by that spreadsheet for five minutes. Either it’s secretly brilliant, or you’re miles away."

Luca managed a thin smile. "Just... thinking."

"Dangerous hobby," she said, leaning against his desk. "Especially before coffee."

He gave a half-shrug. "Late night. Brains are rebooting."

Bella’s eyes softened—quiet concern, no dramatics. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired." It came out too fast, too automatic. He cleared his throat. "Didn’t sleep well."

She didn’t push. Bella never pushed. She simply nodded and tapped his desk gently. "I’m doing a coffee run. Want anything?"

He shook his head. "I’m good."

"You don’t look good," she said bluntly.

"I’ll survive," he said, forcing a small grin. "Just need to finish this. Came in late—don’t want Georgia thinking I’m slacking."

Bella let out a soft sigh—half exasperation, half affection. "Fine. Your loss."

Across the room, Liam perked up like a golden retriever who heard the word walk.

"Coffee run?"

Bella gave him a look. "Yes?"

"I’m coming. Someone has to prevent another decaf disaster."

Bella groaned. "It was one time, Liam."

"Tragic nonetheless," he said, slinging his wallet into his pocket.

Bella looked back at Luca. "Last chance. Seriously."

He waved her away. "I’m good. Go. Before Liam starts critiquing the beans."

She held his gaze for a beat—long enough to tell him she knew something was off—but nodded and headed toward the elevator with Liam trailing behind her.

Silence pooled around him again.

Luca leaned back, the weight in his chest settling like wet concrete.

His eyes drifted back to the screen, but his mind replayed last night like a highlight reel of mistakes.

I was an ass.

No sugarcoating. He’d shut Noel down. Pushed him away.

Thrown up walls Noel didn’t deserve—not after everything.

He pressed both hands over his face. What is wrong with me?

He didn’t need to ask. He already knew.

You’re scared.

Scared of how Max’s words had rattled him. Scared of the possibility that Noel felt something too.

Scared that naming it would make it real—and then impossible to ignore.

But staying silent felt worse.

I can’t keep doing this.

He straightened abruptly, spine tight, resolve finally breaking through the fog.

Tonight. I’ll talk to him. I’ll ask. Whatever happens—I’ll deal with it.

The ache didn’t vanish, but his heartbeat steadied with the decision.

Something to move toward. Something to fix.

He focused back on the screen, fingers finally moving with intent.

Get through the day. Then fix.

Upstairs, Noel was working through the reports with his usual quiet precision.

The routine steadied him—the numbers, the logs, the structure of it all—pulling him away from the whirlwind in his chest.

Every so often, his phone buzzed.

Every time, he looked.

Every time, it wasn’t Luca.

Just work. Just reminders. Just everything except the message he wanted.

He turned the screen face-down, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Stop waiting for him to text. You’ll see him at lunch. You’ll talk then.

But that was a lie he didn’t believe.

Not with the cafeteria crowd.

Tonight. It has to be tonight.

Outside, the city hummed—alive, indifferent.

Inside, two floors apart, two people powered through the morning with the same restless heartbeat and the same promise echoing in their heads:

Tonight. We fix this tonight.

The hours stretched on—slow, steady, quietly charged.

And somewhere between the third and fourth floors, in the space where conversations hadn’t happened yet, two hearts kept beating in sync, waiting for evening to finally draw the line between distance and confession.

Mr. Max returned to the office with the quiet confidence of someone who’d just wrapped a successful meeting.

He loosened his tie slightly, exhaling as he stepped inside—then paused when he saw Noel still at his desk, focused, tidy, fingers moving with that calm efficiency he always admired.

"You’re still on that?" Max asked, walking closer.

Noel looked up, offering that polite, restrained smile he always kept for office hours. "Just finishing the export logs. I wanted them ready before the end of the day."

Max’s lips curved—not wide, but warm. "Good. Because I’ve got good news for you."

Noel blinked, straightening slightly. "Good news?"

"Follow me," Max said simply.

No explanation, no pause—just that steady, assured tone that left no room for guessing.

Noel stood and followed, quiet footsteps echoing through the polished corridor.

They moved past glass partitions, past the hum of printers and muted conversations, straight to the Director’s office.

Outside the door, Max glanced back. "Just be yourself," he murmured.

Before Noel could ask anything, Max knocked lightly and pushed the door open.

International Director Tan’s Office

Mr. Tan sat behind his desk—a tall, stern man whose reputation carried further than his footsteps ever did.

He stood the moment they entered, adjusting his glasses as his gaze settled on Noel.

Beside him sat a young woman Noel recognized faintly from the warehouse—Sarah.

Sharp eyes, neat ponytail, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Come in," Mr. Tan said. "Sit."

Max gestured subtly, reassuring.

Noel sat.

Mr. Tan leaned back in his chair, fingertips tapping once on the desk before he spoke.

"Noel," he began, tone measured but warm, "I’ve reviewed the evaluations from the warehouse visit. Your performance impressed me."

Noel blinked, taken aback. "Sir... thank you."

Mr. Tan nodded once, approving. "You observed quickly. You asked the right questions. You handled yourself professionally. And," he added, glancing at Max, "your manager here speaks highly of you."

A small, almost shy smile tugged at Sarah’s lips. "He really does," she whispered, then straightened when Max shot her a look.

Mr. Tan continued, "So here’s the matter at hand: the company is sending a small team to Japan for an operational review and training exchange. One week. Myself, Max, and a staff representative from the warehouse."

His gaze sharpened on Noel.

"And I’ve decided to include you."

Noel’s heart stumbled.

"...Me?"

"Yes," Mr. Tan said firmly. "You’re not just fetching papers. You’re showing initiative. Drive. And this industry—import and export—you don’t learn it behind a desk alone. This is the real field. Consider it a learning investment."

Noel swallowed, pulse hammering against his ribs. "Sir, I—I appreciate the opportunity. Truly."

"You’ll need your passport and basic essentials," Mr. Tan added, already turning a page in his planner. "We leave tomorrow morning."

The word hit him like a jolt.

Tomorrow.

And everything inside Noel pulled taut.

The room buzzed faintly as Sarah let out a small gasp. "Tomorrow? That fast?"

"It’s short notice," Mr. Tan agreed, "but logistics require speed. This trip was approved today."

Max shot Noel a glance—quick, assessing, too quiet.

Noel nodded slowly, forcing a steady breath. "I’ll prepare, sir."

"That’s the spirit." Mr. Tan smiled—a rare expression. "You’re young. Opportunities like this don’t come twice. Make it count."

Sarah beamed. "Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint."

Max murmured, "Neither will he," eyes flicking toward Noel once more.

Noel kept his posture straight, hands clasped lightly on his lap.

On the outside, he was poised. Professional. Perfect.

Inside?

His stomach churned.

His chest felt too tight.

Tomorrow. And Luca ....

He’d barely spoken to him. Barely breathed the same air without a wall between them.

And now—he was expected to leave the country with two managers and pretend his heart wasn’t cracking under the weight of something he couldn’t fix yet.

But he couldn’t say no. Not here. Not in front of the Director.

Not when everyone’s eyes were on him with expectation.

So he nodded once more, polite, calm, composed.

"Thank you for trusting me," Noel said. "I’ll be ready."

Mr. Tan gave a satisfied nod, closing the meeting. "Good. Dismissed."

They stepped out into the corridor—Max, Sarah bouncing excitedly, Noel quiet.

Sarah headed ahead, already typing on her phone.

Max slowed his pace, falling into step beside Noel.

"You’re quiet," he said softly.

Noel forced a small smile. Professional. Controlled. "Just... taking it in."

Max watched him a beat longer than necessary—eyes searching, understanding more than he let on.

"We’ll talk later," he said.

And Noel nodded, even though his chest felt like it was caving in.

Back in Max’s Office

The door clicked shut behind them, muting the buzz of the hallway.

Max set his folder down, loosened his tie a little again, and leaned against the edge of his desk — eyes fixed on Noel with that sharp, perceptive calm of his.

Noel stood by the chair, hands resting lightly on the back of it, as if anchoring himself.

"Alright," Max said quietly, "what’s going on?"

Noel blinked. "Sir?"

Max tilted his head, voice lowering. "Don’t give me the polite answer. I know that face. You’re not excited. You’re... unsettled."

A beat.

"You don’t want to go?"

Noel dropped his gaze, exhaling slowly through his nose.

The kind of breath that carries too much weight.

"It’s not that," he murmured. "It’s just... sudden. Really sudden. I still have tasks here, and—" He hesitated, fingers tightening around the chair. "I’m not ready to leave tomorrow."

Max watched him closely, arms folding. He didn’t interrupt. He let Noel speak at his own pace.

"It feels like I’m being pulled into something before I can... before I can fix what I need to fix here."

His voice softened. "And that scares me a little."

The honesty hung between them — fragile, unguarded.

Max let out a slow breath and stepped closer, not invasive, just grounding.

"Noel," he said gently, "look at me."

Noel lifted his eyes.

And Max wasn’t stern. Not disappointed. Just... clear.

"It’s normal to feel unprepared. Everyone does, even staff with years on the job. Sudden travel, new country, new operations — it’s overwhelming."

He paused, letting the words settle like a steady hand on the shoulder.

"But you’re being sent because you can handle it. Not because you’re ready — nobody ever is — but because you’ve shown you rise to challenges."

Noel’s throat worked. He said nothing.

Max continued, quieter now. "This is rare. Director Tan doesn’t bring interns on international visits. Ever. It’s a sign he sees something in you... something worth investing in."

He didn’t touch him. He didn’t crowd him.

But the air shifted — steady, encouraging, warm.

"You have to go," Max said softly. "Not because of us. Not because of the Director. Because this is the kind of door that doesn’t open twice."

Noel’s fingers relaxed on the chair, shoulders sloping with the weight of the moment.

"But what if I’m not—"

"You are," Max cut in gently. "You just don’t feel it yet."

Another quiet beat.

Noel exhaled, gaze dropping again. "It’s just... bad timing."

Max’s eyes softened with an understanding he didn’t voice. "Life doesn’t wait for perfect timing, Noel. You take the chances when they come. Even when your heart’s somewhere else."

Noel’s head jerked slightly — the words hit too close — but Max didn’t push it.

He simply straightened his posture, tone settling into that steady managerial confidence.

"Here’s what we’ll do," Max said. "You finish what you can today. I’ll reassign anything that can’t wait. Pack only what you need tonight. I’ll handle the rest. You won’t be alone on this trip — Sarah’s sharp, and I’ll guide you through everything."

Noel pulled in another breath — deeper this time, steadier.

His voice emerged faint. "I’ll go."

Max nodded once, approving but gentle. "Good."

Then, quieter: "You’ll thank yourself later."

Noel didn’t answer.

But he didn’t look away either.

And for a moment just a moment the office felt too small for all the things he wasn’t saying.