Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 242: Love in the Quiet Hours

The apartment felt different without him.

Luca stood in the doorway for a moment after returning, keys still in his hand, the echo of the closing door settling into silence that felt too loud.

The morning light had softened into afternoon gray, and the space—*their* space—suddenly felt too big, too quiet, too empty.

He exhaled slowly, setting his keys on the counter with a soft clink that seemed to echo.

The cat appeared from the bedroom, tail high, moving toward him with that unhurried grace cats always seemed to carry.

It wound around his ankles once, twice, then sat and looked up at him expectantly with knowing eyes.

Luca stared back, crouching down to scratch behind its ears. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "I know. He’s gone. Just for a week though. We can handle a week, right?"

The cat blinked slowly, leaning into his touch.

Luca moved to the couch, sinking into it with a heaviness he hadn’t expected.

His laptop sat on the coffee table where he’d left it yesterday—work he’d been meaning to finish,it suddenly felt irrelevant compared to the ache in his chest.

He pulled it onto his lap anyway, opening it with mechanical precision.

The screen glowed to life, cursor blinking in the search bar.

*Focus.*

He tried. He really did.

But his eyes kept drifting to his phone, sitting face-up beside him on the cushion like a lifeline.

No messages yet.

*He’s probably still on the plane,* Luca told himself, checking the time again. *Or just landed. Going through customs. It takes time. International flights are long.*

He checked the time. 2:47 PM.

He looked back at the laptop. Read the same sentence three times.

Didn’t absorb a single word, the letters blurring together.

His phone buzzed.

Luca’s hand shot out—too fast, too eager, heart jumping—but it was just a notification.

A promotional email about some sale he didn’t care about.

He set the phone down again, slower this time, and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Get it together," he muttered to himself.

The cat meowed—low, questioning, almost sympathetic.

Luca glanced over.

The food bowl sat empty near the kitchen counter, a silent accusation.

"Oh—" He stood quickly, guilt flickering through him. "Sorry, buddy. I forgot. Some caretaker I am."

He moved to the cabinet, pulling out the bag of cat food, the familiar sound of kibble hitting the metal bowl filling the silence like tiny drums.

The cat trotted over immediately, tail flicking with satisfaction, and began eating with single-minded focus.

Luca watched it eat for a moment, finding strange comfort in the simple routine, then looked at the fridge.

He should eat something too.

But the thought of food felt distant, unappealing.

His stomach wasn’t hungry—or maybe it was, and he just couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

He opened the fridge anyway. Leftover rice.

Some vegetables wilting slightly.

A container of soup Noel had made two days ago, the one with the vegetables cut into perfect little cubes the way only Noel bothered to do.

Luca stared at it, finger touching the container, then closed the fridge gently.

*Later.*

He returned to the couch, laptop open again, phone within arm’s reach, always within reach.

The hours passed slowly—painfully so.

He worked in fragments, stopping every few minutes to check his phone, refresh his messages, look at the time, calculate time zones.

3:15 PM.

4:02 PM.

5:30 PM.

The light outside shifted, softening into early evening gold.

The city beyond the window hummed quietly, distant and detached, moving on without caring about his waiting.

Luca’s stomach finally protested—a dull ache he couldn’t ignore anymore, making itself known.

He sighed, standing and moving back to the fridge.

This time, he pulled out the soup, heated it in the microwave without much thought, watching the container spin through the glass, and ate standing at the counter.

It tasted fine. Warm. Comforting, even. Noel’s cooking always was.

But it felt wrong somehow.

Because Noel wasn’t there to share it, to tell him it needed more salt, to steal bites from his bowl.

His phone buzzed.

Luca set the bowl down so fast it almost tipped over, soup sloshing.

He grabbed the phone, heart jumping—

Noel: Just landed. Safe and sound. Miss you already.

Luca exhaled, a smile tugging at his lips despite everything, relief flooding through him.

He typed quickly, fingers flying.

Luca:Told you to text me. Took you long enough. I was starting to worry.

The reply came almost immediately, as if Noel had been waiting.

Noel:Customs took forever. How’s home?

Luca glanced around the empty apartment, at the single bowl on the counter, at the cat now grooming itself on the couch.

Luca:Quiet. The cat misses you.

Noel:Just the cat?

Luca’s smile widened, warmth spreading through his chest.

Luca:Fine. Me too. A little.

Noel:A little?

Luca:Okay, a lot. Happy now?

Noel:Very. [happy emoji]

Noel:I’ll call you tonight after the hotel check-in. Okay?

Luca:Yeah. I’ll be here. Not going anywhere.

Noel:I know you will. You’re always there when I need you.

Luca stared at the screen for a moment longer, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

He wanted to say more—wanted to ask how the flight was, if Max was being weird, if Noel was okay, if he was thinking about him as much as Luca was thinking about him, if the seat was comfortable, if he ate on the plane.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just typed:

Luca:Be safe. Talk soon.

Noel:Always. Love you.

Luca:Love you too.

The conversation ended there, but Luca kept staring at the screen, rereading the messages twice, three times, as if they’d somehow disappear if he looked away, memorizing the words.

Finally, he set the phone down and finished his soup in silence, but it tasted better now.

The cat had curled up on the couch, eyes half-closed, content in that way only cats could be.

Luca sat beside it, running a hand gently over its soft fur, feeling the vibrations of its purr. "He’ll be back," he said quietly. "Just a week. Seven days. We’ve done harder things."

The cat purred louder, as if agreeing.

Luca leaned his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him.

Just a week.

It already felt too long.

Sunday came and went like a breath—barely noticed, barely felt.

Luca woke late, the bed too empty, the pillow beside him cold and untouched, still perfectly smooth.

He made coffee for one, the routine feeling incomplete.

Fed the cat. Sat on the balcony with his laptop, pretending to work while the city moved on below him, life continuing as if nothing had changed.

Noel texted a few times—photos of the hotel room with its pristine white sheets, a street view of Tokyo with neon signs glowing, a meal he’d tried that looked impossibly artistic.

Luca responded, keeping his tone light, teasing, normal, sending back emojis and jokes.

But the hours dragged, each one feeling like three.

By evening, he found himself staring at the ceiling, phone in hand, waiting for Noel’s call like it was oxygen.

When it came, they talked for an hour—about nothing, about everything.

Noel described the hotel, the city sounds, the team’s first impressions.

Luca told him about the cat’s antics, about the soup, about how quiet everything was.

Noel’s voice was warm, familiar, grounding, washing over him like a balm.

Luca closed his eyes and just listened, letting it fill the silence, imagining Noel was right there.

"I wish you were here," Noel said softly near the end of the call.

"Me too," Luca whispered back. "But you’re doing something amazing. I’m proud of you."

"Thank you," Noel said, voice thick with emotion. "That means everything."

When they hung up, the apartment felt emptier than before, the silence rushing back in like a tide.

Monday morning arrived with the sharp edge of routine.

Luca woke to his alarm, the sound jarring in the quiet room, pulling him from dreams.

He reached instinctively to the other side of the bed, fingers searching—

Nothing.

He stared at the empty space for a moment, at the pillow that should have been rumpled, then sighed and swung his legs over the side.

The cat was already awake, sitting by the door, waiting patiently.

"Hey," Luca muttered, shuffling to the kitchen, still half-asleep. "I know. Breakfast first. You’re worse than an alarm clock."

He went through the motions—kibble in the bowl, coffee in the pot, toast in the toaster.

Everything felt mechanical, hollow, going through the script.

He ate standing up, eyes on his phone, hoping for a message.

Noel:Good morning. Hope your Monday isn’t too rough. Thinking of you.

Luca smiled faintly, warmth blooming in his chest, typing back quickly.

Luca:It’s Monday. That’s rough enough. How’s Japan treating you?

Noel:Beautiful. Busy. Overwhelming in the best way. I’ll tell you everything tonight. Save me some time?

Luca:All my time is yours. Looking forward to it.

Noel:Me too. Miss your face.

Luca:Miss yours more.

He finished his coffee, grabbed his jacket, and headed out, tucking the phone in his pocket where he could feel it.

The lobby of the company building felt too bright, too loud.

Interns and staff moved past him in quick strides, voices blending into a low hum of Monday morning energy.

Luca stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor.

The doors slid shut.

He watched the numbers climb—1, 2, 3—and stepped out into the familiar corridor, the smell of coffee and paper greeting him.

The Business Studies department was already alive with energy.

Bella stood near her desk, adjusting her laptop screen, muttering about formatting.

Chen and Camila were huddled over a spreadsheet, debating something in low tones, hands gesturing.

Liam leaned back in his chair, coffee in hand, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression.

"Morning, Luca," Bella called, glancing up with a bright smile that was too cheerful for Monday.

Luca returned it as best he could. "Morning."

"You look exhausted," she said, tilting her head with concern. "Rough weekend?"

"Something like that," Luca said, setting his bag down at his desk with more force than necessary.

Chen looked over, pausing his conversation. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Luca said quickly. "Just... adjusting."

Bella’s eyes softened with understanding. She moved closer, whispering to his ear. "Noel’s in Japan, right?"

Luca nodded, grateful she understood without him having to explain.

"That’s tough," she said gently, squeezing his shoulder. "But hey—he’ll be back soon, right? One week flies by."

"Right," Luca echoed, though the word felt heavier than it should, like a stone.

Georgia emerged from her office, tablet in hand, her expression focused but warm. "Alright, team. Let’s talk about this week’s deliverables. We’ve got a follow-up meeting with GreenHydra on Wednesday, and I want us tight on every detail. No room for errors."

The team gathered, chairs pulled close, notebooks open, pens ready.

Luca listened, took notes, nodded in the right places, wrote down action items.

But his mind kept drifting—one floor up, to an empty desk in International Relations, to a plane somewhere over the Pacific, to Noel’s voice on the phone last night saying, *I miss you already,* to the way his laugh sounded through the speaker.

"Luca?"

He blinked. Georgia was looking at him, expectant.

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you could lead the product positioning section on Wednesday."

"Oh....yeah. Of course," he said quickly, straightening. "I’ve got it. I’ll have it ready."

Georgia studied him for a moment, something knowing in her eyes, then nodded. "Good. Let’s keep the momentum going. We’re doing great work."

The meeting continued.

Luca wrote things down, contributed when needed, kept his face steady and professional.

But inside, the day already felt impossibly long.

By the time 5 PM rolled around, Luca’s shoulders ached from sitting too still, his eyes tired from staring at screens, his mind fuzzy.

He packed up slowly, watching as his teammates said their goodbyes, filing out one by one, heading to their lives.

Bella paused at his desk. "You sure you’re okay?"

Luca looked up, managing a small smile. "Yeah. Just tired. Long day."

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. "Alright. Get some rest, okay?."

"I will."

She left with a wave.

The office emptied.

Luca sat there for another moment, listening to the silence, then finally stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, the muzak grating.

The walk home even longer, each step heavy.

When he finally stepped into the apartment, the silence hit him like a wave, washing over him.

The cat meowed from the couch, stretching lazily, tail curling.

Luca dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and exhaled—long, slow, heavy, releasing the day

The cat blinked at him, unimpressed by his pep talk.

Luca laughed—quiet, tired, genuine—and collapsed onto the couch beside it.

His phone buzzed.

Noel:How was your day? Tell me everything.

Luca stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Long,he wanted to say. *Empty. I miss you. The apartment is too quiet. I keep looking for you.*

But instead, he typed:

Luca:It was fine. Productive. Yours?

Noel:Exhausting but good. Max had us running all day. I’ll call you in an hour? I want to hear your voice.

Luca:Yeah. I’ll be here. Waiting.

Noel:Always waiting for me. I don’t deserve you.

Luca:Yes you do. Now go rest. Talk soon.

He set the phone down, leaning his head back against the cushion.

The cat curled up beside him, purring softly, a warm presence.

Luca closed his eyes, running his fingers through its fur.

Just six more days.

He could do this. For Noel, he could do anything.