Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 244: The Condition

The elevator hummed as it climbed—steady, mechanical, indifferent to the storm building in Luca’s chest.

He stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the ascending numbers glowing softly in the dim light.

10... 15... 20...

His father’s office was on the executive floor—the twenty-fifth.

A place Luca rarely visited unless summoned.

A place that always felt too formal, too distant, even though the man who occupied it was his own blood, the person who’d raised him through everything.

The elevator chimed softly.

25.

The doors slid open with a whisper.

Luca stepped out into the hallway polished marble floors that reflected the soft lighting, the kind of silence that came with power and money and late-night decisions.

Executive assistants had already left for the day.

The floor felt empty, save for the low glow of lights still on in a few corner offices where people worked past reasonable hours.

His father’s office sat at the end of the hall, double doors slightly ajar, light spilling into the corridor.

Luca moved toward it, his footsteps echoing faintly, each one feeling heavier than the last.

He could hear voices inside—low, familiar, comfortable.

His father. And Uncle Jeff.

Luca paused just outside, hand hovering over the door, knuckles white.

*What are you doing?*

He didn’t have an answer. Not really.

All he knew was that he couldn’t sit in that apartment for another three days, staring at his phone, waiting, wondering, imagining Noel walking through Tokyo with *him*—with Max—seeing things that should have been theirs together.

He pushed the door open.

His father looked up immediately, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise.

He sat behind his desk—clean, organized, a laptop open in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose.

Uncle Jeff stood near the window, coffee cup in hand, turning at the sound of the door with that gentle expression he always wore.

"Luca?" His father’s voice was calm but questioning, concern flickering across his features. "What are you doing here? It’s late."

Luca stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He didn’t look at Uncle Jeff. Didn’t pause to think about how this might sound.

He just said it.

"Dad." His voice was steadier than he expected, surprising himself. "I need to go to Japan. Tomorrow."

Silence.

His father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk, the leather creaking softly.

His expression didn’t shift—still calm, still measured, still the businessman who’d built an empire. "Japan," he repeated slowly, testing the word.

"Yes."

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

Uncle Jeff set his coffee down on the windowsill, watching quietly from the side, understanding already dawning in his eyes.

Mr.Smith studied him for a long moment, the kind of look that always made Luca feel like he was being read, dissected, understood before he even finished speaking—the look that saw through every defense.

"This is about Noel," his father said finally. Not a question. A statement of fact.

Luca’s jaw tightened, muscle jumping. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you’re making impulsive decisions because of him," his father said gently, no judgment in his tone, just concern.

"It’s not impulsive," Luca said, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. "I just...." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. "I need to go. I need to see him."

His father’s gaze didn’t waver, steady and unwavering. "You’ve been apart for less than a week."

"I know."

"And he’ll be back next week."

"I know," Luca said again, frustration creeping into his tone, bleeding through despite his efforts. "But I can’t.." He stopped, biting back the words he didn’t want to say out loud, the vulnerability he didn’t want to expose.

*I can’t stand the thought of him there without me. I can’t stop thinking about Max. I can’t just sit here and wait while someone else gets the time I should have.*

His father watched him, silent, calculating, reading everything Luca wasn’t saying.

Then he leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk. "If I said no," he said quietly, "what would you do?"

Luca met his eyes directly, unflinching. "I’d go anyway."

The words hung in the air—defiant, honest, raw.

Uncle Jeff shifted slightly, but said nothing, just watched with that knowing expression.

Luca’s father nodded slowly, as if he’d expected that answer, perhaps even hoped for it. "You’d go anyway," he repeated. "Even if I refused to help you. Even if you had to book the flight yourself, drain your savings."

"Yes."

A pause, weighted with years of understanding.

Then his father’s expression softened—just barely, the businessman giving way to the parent. "You really care about him, don’t you?"

Luca swallowed hard, throat tight. "Yes."

Another silence, this one gentler.

His father exhaled, leaning back again, decision made. "Fine."

Luca blinked, not quite believing. "Fine?"

"You can go."

Relief flooded through Luca so fast it almost made him dizzy, his knees nearly buckling. "Thank you—"

"But," his father said, holding up a hand, stopping him mid-gratitude, "under one condition."

Luca’s relief stuttered, freezing in his chest. "What condition?"

His father’s gaze held his, steady and unyielding, carrying the weight of something long avoided. "You meet your mother."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Luca froze, everything in him going still.

The air in the room shifted—thicker, heavier, suffocating.

"What?" Luca’s voice came out quieter than he intended, barely a whisper.

"Your mother," his father repeated calmly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. "She lives in Tokyo. You know that."

Luca’s heart was pounding now, fast and uneven, thundering in his ears. "Dad, I...."

"If you’re going to Japan," his father continued, voice still calm but leaving no room for argument, "you’ll see her. That’s the condition."

"No." The word came out sharp, immediate, defensive. "I’m not ready for that."

"You haven’t been ready for twelve years, Luca."

"That’s not fair..."

"It’s not about fair," his father said, voice still calm but firmer now, carrying authority. "It’s about facing things you’ve been avoiding. Things that need to be faced."

Luca’s hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into palms. "I didn’t come here to talk about her."

"I know." His father’s expression didn’t change, but something softened in his eyes. "But if you want my help....if you want me to arrange this trip, to make sure you’re taken care of—then you’ll do this. You’ll meet her."

Luca stared at him, jaw tight, chest heaving with frustration and something deeper—fear. "Why does it have to be now?"

"Because you’ll keep putting it off if it’s not," his father said simply, with the certainty of someone who knew his son too well. "You always do."

Luca looked away, his throat tight, burning.

He thought of his mother—her face, her voice, the way she’d smiled at him the last time he saw her.

The way she’d left, choosing a new life.

Remarried.

Started a new family across the ocean.

Kids he’d never met. Kids who had her in a way he didn’t anymore, who got her bedtime stories and morning breakfasts and all the small moments he’d lost.

"I don’t want to see her," Luca said quietly, the admission painful. "Not yet."

"You have to," his father said, and there was something softer in his tone now—something almost apologetic, almost regretful. "Not forever. Just once. Just to... start. To open that door even a crack."

Luca’s chest felt tight, constricting.

His hands were trembling slightly, and he shoved them back into his pockets, hiding the weakness.

"If I say no?" he asked, though he already knew the answer, could see it in his father’s eyes.

His father looked at him for a long moment, sadness flickering across his features. "Then I won’t stop you from going. But I won’t help you either."

Luca closed his eyes, defeated.

*Damn it.*

He wanted to argue.

Wanted to push back, to storm out, to prove he didn’t need anyone’s permission or help, that he was independent and strong.

But he also knew the truth.

He needed this. He needed to go. He needed to see Noel—needed it like air.

And his father knew it too.

"Luca."

Uncle Jeff’s voice broke the silence—quiet, steady, anchoring.

Luca opened his eyes and looked over, finding kindness there.

Jeff was watching him with that gentle, knowing expression he always had—the one that said *I understand, but this is still the right thing.*

"Your father’s not trying to punish you," Jeff said softly, moving closer. "He’s trying to help. He wants this resolved as much as you do, maybe more."

"It doesn’t feel like help," Luca muttered, voice rough.

"I know," Jeff said, understanding in every word. "But sometimes the things that feel the hardest are the ones we need the most. The ones that heal us."

Luca looked away again, jaw tight, fighting the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

His father spoke again, voice quieter now, almost gentle. "I’m not asking you to forgive her, Luca. I’m not even asking you to understand. I’m just asking you to see her. To start somewhere. One step."

Luca exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of him like water through his fingers.

He was tired. So tired of carrying this weight, this anger, this hurt.

And he missed Noel. Missed him so much it physically hurt.

"Fine," he said finally, the word coming out rough, scraped raw. "Fine. I’ll see her."

His father nodded, something like relief flickering across his face, shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good. Thank you."

Luca looked up, meeting his eyes, needing him to understand. "But only once. Just... just to say I did it. That’s all."

"That’s all I’m asking," his father said gently.

Luca swallowed, nodding slowly, acceptance settling over him.

Uncle Jeff moved then, crossing the room and resting a hand briefly on Luca’s shoulder—warm, grounding, paternal. "I’ll handle the flight," he said gently. "I’ll have everything ready by tomorrow morning. First class. Direct flight."

Luca nodded again, throat too tight to speak, emotion choking him.

"Thank you," he managed finally, voice cracking slightly.

Jeff smiled faintly, squeezing his shoulder. "Anytime, kiddo."

His father stood, walking around the desk with measured steps.

He stopped in front of Luca, studying him for a moment with eyes that held years of love and concern.

Then he did something unexpected.

He reached out and squeezed Luca’s shoulder—brief, firm, grounding, the most affection he’d shown in months.

"You’re doing the right thing," he said quietly, voice thick with emotion. "I’m proud of you."

Luca didn’t trust himself to respond. He just nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Go home," his father said. "Get some rest. Pack. Jeff will send you the details tonight."

Luca nodded one last time, then turned and left, footsteps quick.

The elevator ride down felt longer than the one up, endless.

Luca leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, letting the hum of the descent fill the silence, letting it steady his racing heart.

*I did it.*

He was going to Japan.

Tomorrow.

To see Noel. To surprise him. To hold him.

But also... to see *her*.

His chest tightened again, old wounds throbbing, but he pushed the thought away.

*One thing at a time.*

The elevator chimed.

The doors opened.

Luca stepped out into the cool night air, the city stretching endlessly around him, lights twinkling like stars fallen to earth.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the last message from Noel, rereading it.

*I’ll make it up to you, I promise.*

Luca’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Then he typed slowly.

**Luca:** *I’ll be there soon. Surprise.*

He didn’t send it.

Not yet.

He’d tell him when he got there. Wanted to see the look on Noel’s face.

Luca pocketed the phone and started walking home, each step lighter than before.

The cat would be waiting.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow, everything would change.

Tomorrow, he’d have Noel back in his arms.

That made everything—even facing his mother—worth it.