Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 254: Tomorrow Can Wait

The car pulled away from the curb, and Luca watched his mother’s house disappear behind them, swallowed by distance and the gathering dusk.

The drive back felt different from the drive there—less tense, more reflective.

They didn’t talk much.

Noel’s hand found Luca’s, fingers intertwining, and they sat in comfortable silence as Tokyo moved past the windows.

The city transformed in evening—neon signs flickering to life, streetlights casting everything in warm gold, people heading home from weekend activities, restaurants filling with dinner crowds.

By the time they reached the hotel, full night had fallen.

They thanked the driver, stepped out into the cool evening air, and headed inside.

The lobby was quiet—a few guests checking in, soft music playing from hidden speakers, the receptionist nodding politely as they passed.

The elevator ride up was silent, but not uncomfortably so.

They were both tired—the good kind of tired that came from a full day of emotion and experience.

Luca unlocked the hotel room door, and they stepped inside—the space familiar now after two nights, their belongings scattered in that lived-in way that made it feel temporarily like home.

Noel immediately kicked off his shoes, collapsing onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. "I’m exhausted."

"Me too," Luca admitted, following suit, lying beside him.

They stared at the ceiling for a moment, just breathing.

"Tomorrow we fly home," Noel said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Back to reality."

"Yeah."

"Are you ready?"

Luca thought about it. "I don’t know. This weekend felt like... like a different world. I’m not sure I want to leave it."

Noel turned his head to look at him. "We don’t have to leave it completely. We’re taking it with us. The memories. The growth. What happened here—it’s part of us now."

"When did you get so philosophical?"

"I’ve always been philosophical," Noel said, but he was smiling. "You just don’t listen."

Luca laughed, the sound tired but genuine.

They lay there as the evening deepened outside, the city’s lights reflecting off the hotel window, creating patterns on the ceiling.

"Thank you," Luca said eventually. "For coming to meet her. For being so good with the kids. For making it easier than I thought it would be."

"You don’t have to thank me," Noel said. "That’s what partners do. We show up for each other."

"Still. Thank you."

Noel rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Luca. "You were brave today. Braver than you think."

"I was terrified."

"I know. But you did it anyway. That’s what bravery is."

Luca reached up, pulling Noel down for a slow, sweet kiss.

When they broke apart, Noel smiled. "We should probably think about packing. Our flight’s at ten tomorrow morning."

"We should," Luca agreed, making no move to get up.

"But we’re not going to right now, are we?"

"Definitely not."

Noel laughed, settling back against him. "Five more minutes?"

"Always five more minutes with you."

They lay tangled together as Tokyo hummed beyond the window—their last night in Japan, their last quiet moment before returning to the world.

The silence changed.

Luca’s fingertips found the edge of Noel’s jaw, traced the stubble there—rough, real.

Noel didn’t move, just watched him with those dark eyes, the city’s neon catching in them like distant stars.

"Hey," Luca whispered.

"Hey yourself."

Luca rolled toward him.

Closed the distance between them breath by breath, until their mouths met.

The kiss was soft. A recognition. Noel’s lips parted slightly and Luca felt the exhale against his own mouth, warm and unguarded.

When they separated, neither pulled away far.

"I love you," Luca said, barely audible. "I don’t say it enough."

Noel’s eyes softened. "You say it in a thousand other ways."

"Still." Luca’s fingers moved to Noel’s collar, found the first button. "I want you to hear it." He slipped it free. "I love you." Then the next. "Every stubborn, patient, impossible part of you."

Each small release of tension whispered through the quiet room. Pop. Pop. The fabric fell open, revealing the hollow of Noel’s throat, the plane of his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing.

Luca bent his head and pressed his mouth to that hollow.

Felt the pulse there flutter against his lips.

"Luca," Noel breathed, and it sounded like a prayer.

He kissed lower—sternum, ribs, the taste of skin and the day still on him.

His hands pushed the shirt off Noel’s shoulders, down his arms.

It slid away like something they’d already forgotten.

Noel’s breath caught—just once, sharp and small.

His hands came up, cradled Luca’s face, tilted it up so their eyes met. "You’re everything to me. You know that?"

Luca’s throat tightened. He nodded.

Noel’s thumbs swept across his cheekbones, tender and reverent.

Then he was reaching for the hem of Luca’s shirt, pulling it up. Over his head. Gone.

For a moment Noel just looked at him, and Luca felt seen in a way that made his chest ache.

"What?" he asked, almost shy.

"Just... you. All of you." Noel’s voice had gone rough. "How did I get this lucky?"

Before Luca could answer, Noel pulled him back down into another kiss.

This one went deeper.

Noel’s tongue traced the seam of Luca’s lips, asked a question, and Luca answered—yes, always yes.

Noel shifted his weight, pressed closer until they were chest to chest, skin to skin, heat bleeding between them.

He broke away only to drag his mouth along Luca’s jaw, down the side of his neck.

His teeth grazed the junction of shoulder and throat—a sting, then the soothe of his tongue.

Luca’s head tipped back.

A sound escaped him he didn’t mean to make.

"That’s it," Noel murmured against his skin. "Let me hear you."

Noel’s mouth returned to his, caught his lower lip between his own, pulled gently.

Released. Did it again, slower this time, and Luca felt him smile against the kiss.

"You drive me crazy," Luca managed, barely coherent.

"Good," Noel whispered into his mouth. Not a sentence. The whole thing. "You."

Hands moved—relearning the curve of a spine, the jut of hip bones, the dip at the small of the back.

Luca traced the ridge of Noel’s shoulder blade, felt the muscles shift beneath his palm.

Noel’s fingers mapped the hollow of Luca’s hip, pressed into the small of his back, pulled him impossibly closer.

Clothes came off one piece at a time. No rush.

Each barrier removed with intention: a button, a zipper, fabric sliding away to reveal more skin.

Each new stretch of it met with lips or fingertips or the press of a palm.

"Perfect," Noel breathed against Luca’s collarbone. "You’re perfect."

"I’m not...."

"To me. You are to me."

Luca’s response dissolved into another kiss, deeper than before, all heat and need and something tender underneath it all.

The neon from outside painted them in shifting colors.

Blue across Noel’s shoulder blade.

Red flickering over Luca’s closed eyelids.

The city hummed beyond the glass, distant and irrelevant.

Time became elastic—seconds stretched into minutes, minutes compressed into heartbeats.

There was only this: touch and breath and whispered names, the slide of skin, the catch of breath, the quiet sounds they drew from each other.

"Stay with me," Luca whispered at some point, though he wasn’t sure if he meant tonight or forever.

"Always," Noel answered, and kissed him again.

Afterward, they lay tangled in sheets gone cool against overheated skin.

The room had gone dark except for the city’s glow.

Luca’s head rested on Noel’s chest, rose and fell with each breath.

Noel’s fingers moved through his hair, slow and absent.

"We didn’t pack," Luca said. His voice came out rough, thoroughly used.

"Future us can handle it." Noel’s chest rumbled under Luca’s ear.

"Future us is going to panic at seven AM."

"Future us deserves it. Present us made excellent choices."

Luca smiled against his skin, pressed a kiss there just because he could. "Present us is half asleep."

"Mm." Noel’s hand settled on his back, possessive and warm. "What do you want tomorrow? Hotel buffet or that place with the tamagoyaki?"

"The tiny one. Where the old man laughed at your Japanese."

"My Japanese is charming."

"It’s terrible. That’s why he laughed."

Noel pinched his side. Luca squirmed, laughed quietly into the dark.

"Remember when you tried to order coffee and accidentally asked for a turtle?"

"That’s not," Noel protested.

"The barista looked so confused."

"In my defense, ’kame’ and ’kōhī’ sound similar."

"They absolutely do not."

Noel pinched him again, gentler this time, and Luca caught his hand, brought it to his lips, kissed his knuckles one by one.

The minibar hummed.

A distant elevator whooshed somewhere far away.

"Will the kids remember me?" Luca’s voice went small.

Noel’s hand started moving again, stroking down his spine in long, soothing lines. "Aiko wouldn’t let go of your leg. Yuki showed you every trophy he owns." He pressed his lips to Luca’s hair, lingered there. "Yeah. They’ll remember."

"I want to come back. See them again. Is that crazy?"

"No." Noel’s arms tightened around him. "It’s not crazy at all."

Luca nodded against his chest. Let out a long breath.

Here—skin to skin, heartbeat steady under his ear, Noel’s warmth surrounding him—the future didn’t feel like falling. It felt like a road. One they’d walk together.

"I meant it, you know," Luca said softly. "Earlier."

"I know." Noel’s voice held a smile. "I love you too. Even your terrible packing skills and your tendency to overthink everything."

"My packing skills are fine."

"You packed three books for a three-day trip."

"That’s called being prepared."

"That’s called overcompensating."

Luca bit his shoulder lightly in retaliation, and Noel laughed—that low, warm sound that Luca would never get tired of hearing.

"Five more minutes?" Luca whispered.

Noel kissed the top of his head, lingered there, breathed him in. "Always." His voice dropped to barely a breath. "Always five more minutes with you."

Beyond the window, Tokyo glittered and spun.

But here, in this room, in this moment—they were still. Complete. Safe at the center of something that would hold.