Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 264: Holding Onto Sunday

Sunday morning arrived with the particular weight of a final day off awareness that tomorrow meant returning to routine, to work, to obligations.

But for now, it was still Sunday. Still theirs.

Luca woke to find Noel already awake beside him, scrolling through his phone with that focused expression he got when reading something important.

"Morning," Luca mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning." Noel set his phone down. "We should get up."

"Why?"

"Because it’s almost ten, and we have things to do."

"We don’t have things to do. It’s Sunday."

"We have laundry to do."

Luca groaned, pulling the pillow over his face. "I hate laundry."

"Everyone hates laundry. That doesn’t make it optional."

"It should be optional."

"Luca." Noel pulled the pillow away. "We’re out of clean clothes. We have to do laundry."

"Fine," Luca said, dragging the word out dramatically. "But I’m not happy about it."

"Noted."

They eventually made it out of bed, moving through their morning routine slower than usual, neither quite ready to give up the lazy comfort of the past few days.

"Let’s make breakfast together," Luca suggested as they headed to the kitchen.

"You want to help cook?"

"I want to try. You make it look easy."

"It is easy."

"For you, maybe."

Noel considered, then nodded. "Okay. But you have to actually help, not just steal food while I cook."

"I can do that."

"Can you?"

"Probably."

They decided on pancakes simple enough that Luca couldn’t completely mess up, complex enough that he’d actually be useful.

Noel pulled out ingredients while Luca found the mixing bowl, measuring cups, the whisk that always somehow ended up in the wrong drawer.

"Okay," Noel said, organizing everything on the counter. "You measure, I’ll mix."

"I can mix."

"Let’s start with measuring."

Luca made a face but complied, carefully measuring flour while Noel cracked eggs into the bowl.

"Not so much," Noel said, reaching over to level off the measuring cup.

"I was being precise."

"You were being generous. There’s a difference."

They worked together Luca measuring ingredients with increasing confidence, Noel mixing and adjusting, both of them falling into an easy rhythm that felt natural despite Luca’s usual kitchen incompetence.

"Can I flip them?" Luca asked when the first batch hit the pan.

"You’re going to make a mess."

"I’ll be careful."

Noel handed him the spatula, watching with barely concealed amusement as Luca waited for the right moment, then attempted to flip.

The pancake made it about halfway, folded in the air, and landed in a crumpled heap.

"That’s... abstract," Noel said diplomatically.

"It still tastes the same."

"Technically true."

By the time they finished, the kitchen counter was covered in flour, the pancakes were various shapes and sizes.

But the pancakes tasted good even the misshapen ones and they ate together at their small table, syrup and butter and the satisfaction of having made something together.

"Not bad," Noel admitted, cutting into a particularly round pancake that Luca had somehow managed correctly.

"I told you I could help."

"You made exactly one good pancake out of many."

"Quality over quantity."

After breakfast and cleanup—which took longer than cooking because of all the flour.

Noel announced it was time for laundry.

"We could just buy new clothes," Luca suggested.

"We’re not buying new clothes."

"It would be easier."

"It would be wasteful." Noel was already gathering dirty clothes from the bedroom, the bathroom, the mysterious pile that had accumulated beside the couch. "Come on. Help me sort."

They filled two large laundry bags one for lights, one for darks the cat trying to climb into both bags at various points because apparently clean laundry was the enemy.

"The laundromat’s only two blocks away," Noel said, shouldering one bag.

"We have to go to the laundromat?"

"Our building’s washer is still broken."

"It’s been broken for two months."

"I know. Come on."

They walked the two blocks in the cold morning air, breath visible, both of them bundled against the chill.

The laundromat was bright and warm when they entered fluorescent lights, the smell of detergent and fabric softener, the steady hum of machines running.

Only a few other people were there—a woman folding clothes while her toddler played with a toy car, an elderly man reading a newspaper while his washer ran, a college student asleep in a chair waiting for his dryer to finish.

Noel claimed two washing machines side by side, efficiently loading clothes while Luca fed quarters into the slots.

"How much detergent?" Luca asked, holding the bottle.

"The line on the cap."

"Which line?"

"The one marked ’medium load.’"

"They’re all marked medium load."

"No they’re not." Noel came over, pointing. "That one. Right there."

"Oh. Yeah. I see it now."

Once both machines were running, they settled into plastic chairs nearby, the rhythmic sound of washing machines oddly soothing.

Luca pulled out his phone, scrolling through social media while Noel produced a book from his jacket pocket—because of course he’d brought a book.

"You always have a book," Luca observed.

"You always have your phone."

"Fair point."

They sat in comfortable silence, the laundromat warm and bright, time passing in that strange suspended way it did when waiting for machines to finish.

Luca watched a few TikTok videos someone cooking an elaborate meal in under a minute, a cat doing something ridiculous, a dance trend he didn’t understand but appreciated anyway.

He glanced over at Noel, completely absorbed in his book, occasionally turning a page, expression focused and content.

Luca took a photo—quick, subtle, just Noel reading with washing machines in the background, fluorescent lights making everything look slightly surreal.

Perfect mundane domesticity.

The washers eventually finished.

They transferred everything to dryers, added more quarters, settled back into waiting.

"What are you reading?" Luca asked.

"Mystery novel. Someone recommended it."

"Any good?"

"It’s fine. The detective’s overly dramatic, but the plot’s decent."

"Would I like it?"

"Probably not. Not enough action."

"You don’t know that."

"You fell asleep during that documentary about architecture."

"That was different. That was boring."

"This is also boring. By your standards."

"Rude but accurate."

Noel smiled, returning to his book while Luca went back to his phone.

By the time the dryers finished, it was past noon.

They folded everything together—Noel creating neat, perfect rectangles while Luca’s attempts were more... abstract.

"That’s not how you fold a shirt," Noel said, watching Luca wrestle with sleeves.

"It’s folded."

"It’s crumpled."

"It’s going in a drawer anyway."

"That’s not the point."

But Noel took the shirt and refolded it properly, adding it to the growing pile of actually organized clothes.

They carried everything back home, the bags noticeably lighter now that the clothes were clean and folded.

Back in the apartment, they put everything away clothes in drawers, towels in the bathroom, sheets in the linen closet.

"We need those," Noel told him.

The cat closed his eyes, clearly communicating that he didn’t care.

"Leave him," Luca said. "We can put them away later."

"He’s going to get fur all over them."

"They’re going in the linen closet. Who cares?"

Noel sighed but relented, and they finished organizing the rest without disturbing the cat.

By the time everything was put away, it was mid-afternoon.

The apartment felt clean, organized, ready for the week ahead even if they weren’t quite ready themselves.

They migrated to the couch their default location, the place where most of their actual living happened.

Luca sprawled on one end, Noel settled on the other, both of them comfortable in their own space.

Noel pulled out his book again, picking up where he’d left off at the laundromat.

Luca scrolled through TikTok, the algorithm serving him an endless stream of content cooking videos, animal videos, people doing impressively stupid things, the occasional genuinely interesting fact.

He showed Noel a video of a cat that had learned to open doors.

"Luca Jr. could do that," Noel said, not looking up from his book.

"Should we be worried?"

"Probably."

Time passed easily, comfortably.

No conversation necessary, just existing in the same space, doing their own things.

But eventually, Luca got restless.

He glanced over at Noel, completely absorbed in his book, legs stretched out, expression relaxed.

Luca set his phone aside.

Then, with deliberate casualness, he shifted closer.

Noel turned a page, not noticing.

Closer.

"What are you doing?" Noel asked, still reading.

"Nothing."

"You’re terrible at doing nothing."

"I’m excellent at doing nothing."

Luca moved again, positioning himself directly beside Noel now.

"Luca."

"Noel."

"I’m reading."

"I can see that."

"Then why are you..."

Before Noel could finish, Luca pushed gently, tipping Noel sideways until he was lying down on the couch, book still in hand but position definitely compromised.

"Hey..."

Luca immediately climbed on top of him, settling his full weight down, head on Noel’s chest, arms wrapping around him.

"Much better," Luca said, voice muffled against Noel’s shirt.

"I was reading."

"You still can. I’m not stopping you."

"You’re literally lying on top of me."

"And?"

Noel sighed, but Luca could feel him adjusting, one arm coming around to hold him while the other attempted to maintain his book reading position.

"This is not comfortable for reading," Noel said.

"Seems fine to me."

"You’re not the one reading."

"True." Luca shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. "But I am the one who missed you even though we’ve been sitting right here."

"We were two feet apart."

"Exactly. Too far."

"You’re ridiculous."

"You love me anyway."

"Unfortunately."

But Noel’s hand was already moving, fingers threading through Luca’s hair, the book momentarily forgotten.

They lay like that, Luca’s weight a comfortable pressure, Noel’s heartbeat steady beneath his ear.

"Your book," Luca mumbled after a moment.

"I wasn’t that invested anyway."

"Liar."

"Maybe." Noel’s fingers continued their movement through Luca’s hair, gentle and rhythmic. "But this is better."

"Told you."

"Don’t be smug."

"Too late."

Outside, the afternoon sun was already starting its descent, shadows lengthening across the floor.

Tomorrow they’d return to work, to the final week of internship, to the rush toward finals and the end of semester.

But right now, wrapped around each other on their couch,cat probably destroying the warm towels in the bedroom, the apartment quiet and comfortable around them—right now was perfect.

"Tomorrow’s Monday," Luca said eventually.

"I know."

"Back to reality."

"This is reality too," Noel said quietly. "This matters just as much."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Luca closed his eyes, letting himself sink deeper into the comfort of it—the warmth, the steady breathing beneath him, the hand in his hair, the knowledge that this was home.

Not just the apartment.

This. Them. Together.

"One more week of internship," Noel said. "Then finals. Then winter break."

"Then next semester."

"One thing at a time."

"You keep saying that."

"Because you keep thinking too far ahead."

"Someone has to plan."

"Someone has to live in the moment."

"Can’t I do both?"

"You can try."

They stayed like that until the light outside turned golden, then purple, then the soft blue of early evening.

Eventually they’d have to move—make dinner, prepare for tomorrow, do all the small things that constituted getting ready for the week ahead.

But not yet.

Just a little longer.

"Five more minutes?" Luca asked.

"Always five more minutes with you," Noel replied, the words familiar, comfortable, true.

And so they stayed, wrapped in each other and the last quiet moments of their break, holding onto the peace before Monday arrived and everything started moving again.

Perfect.