Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 239: Until Tomorrow Comes

Their building came into view, the familiar outline rising through the dim evening light.

Noel didn’t rush, and Luca didn’t drift ahead—they remained side by side, quiet, the air between them tighter than before.

Inside the lobby, the security guard nodded at them, but neither really saw him.

They stepped into the elevator, doors sliding shut with a gentle hum.

The ride up was still and careful.

Luca could feel Noel beside him—steady, calm, but carrying something heavy.

When they reached their floor, neither spoke.

Luca unlocked the door, and they stepped into the dim apartment together.

Noel headed straight for the kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water.

He came back and handed one to Luca—their fingers brushed, just a small touch, but Luca felt it land deep.

They drank. Silence again. Hearts beating too loud.

Noel set his bottle down first. "What did you want to say?"

Luca swallowed, suddenly unsure. "You should go first."

A small shift went through Noel—a faint hesitation, like he was arranging the words in his head.

Then he exhaled and spoke quietly, almost too carefully.

"There’s... something I have to tell you."

Luca’s chest tightened.

"They chose me," Noel continued. "For the trip. The Japan assignment. Mr. Tan confirmed it today."

Luca froze.

That was the moment—the moment his heartbeat wasn’t in his chest anymore, it was in his throat.

He masked it with a small nod, trying to play it cool, trying not to choke on the sudden ache inside him.

"How long?" Luca managed, voice steady only because he forced it to be. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"One week," Noel said.

One week. Seven days. Seven nights.

Without Noel in the room across from his.

Without hearing his quiet footsteps in the morning.

Without the soft hum Noel made when he stretched after waking up. Without him.

Luca forced a smile—the kind that didn’t reach the eyes, the kind that felt like swallowing glass. "That’s... good. I’m happy for you."

He lifted the corner of his lip a little higher, trying to make it believable.

But Noel knew him too well. Noel always knew.

There was a brief, loaded pause before Luca asked, "When are you leaving?"

Noel looked down, thumb brushing the label on his bottle.

A hesitation that spoke louder than anything.

"Tomorrow," he said softly.

The word landed between them like a weight.

Luca felt his face tighten—not dramatically, not enough to break the illusion of *I’m fine*—but enough that anyone who cared about him would see it.

And Noel did. He saw everything.

The small flinch.

The way Luca’s fingers curled just a bit.

The breath he took that didn’t quite come out right.

A silence fell—dense, emotional, the kind that makes a room feel too small.

Noel didn’t move. Luca didn’t speak.

The truth was simple: one was trying not to fall apart, and the other was watching it happen, wishing he could soften the blow.

Noel’s eyes stayed on Luca, steady and searching. "What about you?" he asked quietly. "What were you going to tell me?"

Luca opened his mouth—and nothing came out.

He felt the words rise, the ones about Max, the ones that had clawed at his chest since yesterday.

But the second he imagined Noel leaving tomorrow with tension between them... something inside him shut down.

If he told Noel now, it would turn into a conversation that could slip into a misunderstanding.

A fight. A bruise they wouldn’t have time to heal before the flight.

And Luca couldn’t bear that.

Not with Noel leaving in less than twenty-four hours.

So he forced a smile—small, soft, a little crooked.

"It’s nothing," Luca said. "Just... work stuff. I already handled it."

A lie, smooth enough to slide past.

But Noel watched him with that gentle, knowing look—as if he sensed the deflection but chose not to push.

"I should pack," Noel murmured.

Luca didn’t let the space grow. "I’ll help you," he said immediately, stepping forward. "Let’s do it together."

Noel blinked, surprised by how quick the answer came.

But he nodded, and they walked to the bedroom side by side—close, but not touching.

Inside, the room felt unusually quiet.

Noel opened his closet, hands moving with practiced calm even though his heartbeat was anything but.

He pulled out shirts, folded pants, tucked socks together.

Luca stood beside him, taking each piece and smoothing them with careful hands, placing them neatly in the suitcase.

Their shoulders brushed now and then—small, warm collisions that lingered a second too long.

Noel reached for a sweater.

Luca held the suitcase steady.

"You’ll need something warm," Luca said softly. "Japan nights can be cold."

"Mm," Noel hummed. "I’ll take this."

He handed it over, and their fingers touched—a light graze, but Luca felt it all the way up his arm.

They worked like that for a while: quiet, close, moving around each other with an ease that spoke more truth than either of them dared to.

Every folded shirt felt like a countdown.

Every zipped compartment felt like time slipping through their fingers.

When Noel leaned over the bed to grab his charger, Luca gently took it from his hand, wrapped the cable neatly, and placed it on top of the clothes.

"You’re too organized," Noel said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And you pack like someone who’ll forget half his things," Luca murmured back.

A soft huff escaped Noel—a tiny laugh, the kind Luca had missed all day.

Their eyes met for a moment.

Long enough to feel it. Long enough for the room to shift.

Then Noel looked down at the suitcase again. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For helping."

"Always," Luca replied, voice low. "You don’t have to ask."

He meant it—more than he should, more than he knew how to say.

And Noel felt it. He didn’t comment, but the air warmed around them.

Two boys, folding clothes. Two hearts beating too loud.

One suitcase separating them from a week apart.

The sweetest kind of ache.

Noel zipped the suitcase halfway, then stood, fingers brushing the fabric like he was checking it one last time.

"I’ll go shower," he said, eyes flicking briefly toward Luca before turning away.

Luca nodded. "Yeah. I’ll go after you."

Noel gave him a small, tired smile—the kind that carried gratitude more than words—and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him.

The sound of running water filled the quiet.

Luca exhaled, long and slow.

He glanced at the suitcase, still half open on the bed. *One week.* He pushed the thought aside and finished folding the last shirt, smoothing the edges with steady hands even though his chest felt anything but steady.

When everything looked perfect—neat, tight, organized—he stepped out into the living room.

The apartment lights were dim, warm.

The kind of lighting that made everything feel softer, more intimate.

A little rustle came from the corner.

Then a small meow—low, complaining, familiar.

Luca smiled before he even turned. "Hey, buddy."

The cat trotted toward him, tail up like a question mark, brushing against Luca’s ankle with zero hesitation, demanding attention as if he understood the tension in the air and wanted to cut through it.

"You hungry too?" Luca asked, crouching down.

The cat answered with another meow—louder this time, more insistent.

"Alright, alright," Luca chuckled, pushing gently between the cat’s ears. "I hear you."

He stood and walked to the kitchen, the cat trailing behind him like a tiny shadow.

Luca opened the lower cabinet, pulled out the food container, and filled the bowl carefully, making sure not to spill a single bit.

The cat immediately dove in, eating like it hadn’t been fed in weeks.

"Slow down," Luca muttered, leaning against the counter, watching him with fond exasperation. "You’ll choke."

The cat ignored him completely, focused entirely on his meal.

Luca rubbed his face with both hands, the weight of the day settling in.

The sound of water running behind the bathroom door was a reminder—a ticking clock, a countdown wrapped in steam.

He glanced toward the closed door.

Noel was in there, washing the day off his skin while Luca stood outside feeding a cat and pretending everything was fine.

It was domestic. It was gentle. It was heartbreakingly normal.

And Luca didn’t know how to hold all of that at once.

He pushed off the counter and knelt again, brushing his fingers over the cat’s soft fur.

The small creature purred under his touch, warm and alive and uncomplicated.

"Take care of him for me while he’s gone, hmm?" he whispered.

The cat purred louder—low, warm, like an agreement.

Luca smiled, fragile but real. "Good boy."

The apartment stayed quiet except for the soft sound of purring, running water, and Luca breathing through the ache in his chest.

He stayed there on the floor, hand resting on the cat’s back, letting the simple act of caring for something ground him.

Tomorrow, Noel would be gone. Tomorrow, the apartment would feel too big and too empty.

Tomorrow, Luca would wake up to silence instead of the quiet sounds of Noel getting ready for work.

But tonight—tonight they still had a few more hours.

Tonight, Noel was still here, just on the other side of that door.

And Luca would hold onto every second of it.