Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 277: The Art of Staying

Monday afternoon found Noel in the art building’s collaborative workspace a large, open room with high ceilings and natural light, meant for students from different programs to work together.

He’d discovered it by accident two weeks ago, looking for a quiet place to work that wasn’t the library.

The space was usually empty this time of day, most art and design students in their studios, business students in their own building.

Perfect for concentration.

He spread his materials across a large table near the windows—laptop, research papers, notes for his capstone that were slowly, finally, starting to make sense.

The conversation with Luca last week had helped. So had being honest with his advisor. Progress was happening, just slower than his perfectionist brain wanted.

He’d been working maybe thirty minutes when the door opened.

"Oh, hey," Alex said, spotting him. "Didn’t know anyone else used this space."

"Usually no one does. That’s why I like it."

"Mind if I join? Need a big table for this layout project."

"Go ahead."

Alex claimed the opposite end of the table, spreading out what looked like architectural drawings and design sketches, immediately absorbed in his work.

They existed in comfortable silence the kind that came from knowing each other long enough that conversation wasn’t required, just the quiet companionship of two people focused on their own tasks.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened again.

"There you are," Lina said, walking in with a large portfolio case. "I texted you like three times."

"Phone’s on silent," Alex said, not looking up. "What’s up?"

"Professor Kim moved our critique to Thursday. Wanted to make sure you knew."

"Thursday?" Alex finally looked up, frowning. "That’s terrible timing. I’m nowhere near ready."

"None of us are. That’s why she moved it—give us more time."

Lina noticed Noel then, offering a small wave. "Hey, Noel. Sorry, didn’t see you there."

"No problem."

"What are you working on?"

"Capstone research. International trade policy."

"Sounds thrilling."

"It has its moments."

Lina moved to Alex’s end of the table, setting down her portfolio. "Can I get your opinion on something? Color theory question."

"Yeah, sure."

She pulled out several design mockups, spreading them beside Alex’s architectural drawings, and they fell into discussion—technical terms Noel didn’t understand, debate about complementary colors versus analogous palettes, the kind of creative problem-solving that was completely foreign to his business-focused mind.

He returned to his own work, half-listening to their conversation, noting absently how easily they worked together.

"No, see, if you shift the hue here," Alex was saying, sketching something on Lina’s design, "it creates better visual flow."

"But then the contrast is too subtle."

"The contrast is supporting the focal point, not competing with it."

"That’s... actually really smart."

"I have my moments."

Lina laughed—genuine, warm, the sound carrying across the quiet space.

Noel kept working, pulling up a new document, cross-referencing data from two different sources.

"Okay, your turn," Lina said. "What’s the deal with this perspective? It looks off."

"It is off. That’s the problem. Can’t figure out the vanishing point."

"Let me see."

They bent over the same drawing, shoulders touching, Lina pointing at something while Alex nodded, both of them completely absorbed in the problem.

Natural. Easy. The way creative people collaborated when they understood each other’s process.

Noel had seen them work together always.

Not forced. Not performative.

Just... comfortable.

Like they’d found a rhythm that worked.

"Oh," Lina said suddenly. "That’s it. The horizon line is wrong."

"Where should it be?"

"Here." She traced something with her finger. "See? Now the perspective resolves."

"You’re a genius."

"I know."

Alex laughed, the sound bright and unguarded.

They continued working, occasionally asking each other’s opinions, the collaboration seamless.

Noel focused on his research, highlighting passages, making notes, building the argument his advisor wanted to see.

Around four-thirty, his phone buzzed.

Luca: done with classes. heading home. you?

Noel: still working. probably another hour

Luca: ok. want me to start dinner?

Noel: yeah. something easy

Luca: pasta?

Noel: perfect

He set his phone down, returning to his document.

At Alex’s end of the table, Lina was packing up her portfolio. "I should go. Studio time in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I need to get to my critique prep anyway." Alex started gathering his drawings. "Thanks for the perspective help."

"Thanks for the color theory save."

"Anytime."

They moved toward the door together, still talking.

"Want to grab coffee after?" Alex asked. "I need a break from staring at this project."

"Yeah, definitely. The usual place?"

"Works for me."

Their voices faded as they left, the door closing behind them, leaving Noel alone again in the quiet space.

He stared at his laptop for a moment, processing what he’d observed.

Not the words. The energy.

The way they’d worked together without friction, solved each other’s problems without ego, existed in each other’s space like they use to do before.

Small things

He returned to his research, the room quiet again, afternoon light slanting through windows.

An hour later, he packed up his materials, satisfied with his progress, and headed home.

The apartment smelled like garlic and tomatoes when he arrived, Luca in the kitchen stirring something on the stove while the cat supervised from his perch on the counter.

"Hey," Luca said without turning around. "Good timing. This is almost done."

"Smells good."

"It’s just pasta with store-bought sauce. Nothing fancy."

"Mhm good."

Noel dropped his bag, moved behind Luca, wrapping arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Long day?" Luca asked.

"Productive day. Finally making real progress on the capstone."

"That’s great."

"How was yours?"

"Exhausting. Three hours of Operations Management. My brain is mush."

"Poor baby."

"Don’t mock my suffering."

"I’m not mocking. I’m sympathizing."

"You’re definitely mocking."

Noel smiled against his shoulder. "Little bit of both."

They ate at their small table, talking about classes and professors and the small frustrations of academic life.

Luca told a story about something George had said in their project meeting that had everyone laughing, his hands gesturing animatedly, eyes bright with the memory.

Noel listened, asked questions, offered his own observations about his advisor’s feedback.

Normal conversation. Easy. The foundation they’d built over months of living together, learning each other’s rhythms.

Later, doing dishes together—Noel washing, Luca drying—Luca said, "You seem lighter today."

"Lighter?"

"Less stressed. More... settled."

"I think I am. Getting clarity on the capstone helped. Feeling like I’m actually moving forward instead of just spinning."

"Good. I like you better when you’re not spiraling."

"I like me better when I’m not spiraling too."

After dishes, after settling on the couch with laptops.

Noel returned to his work, Luca warm beside him, the apartment quiet and comfortable around them.

Sometimes the best support was simply staying.

Letting people find their own paths.

Noel had learned that from Luca—the art of being present without being invasive, of caring without controlling.

It was a good lesson.

One he was still practicing but getting better at.

Outside, the city continued its evening rhythm. Inside, they existed in their own small world—homework and companionship and the quiet certainty of home.

Tuesday afternoon brought unexpected sunshine, rare for this time of year, warm enough that students congregated outside between classes.

Noel had a break between lectures and found himself back in the art building’s collaborative workspace—it had become his preferred spot, the light and space helping him think more clearly than the cramped library carrels.

He was deep in analysis of trade regulations when voices in the hallway caught his attention.

"—but that doesn’t make sense from a design perspective," Lina was saying.

"It makes sense from a structural perspective," Alex replied. "Form follows function."

"Function should support form, not dictate it."

"That’s a very designer thing to say."

"I am a designer. That’s literally my job."

They appeared in the doorway, still debating, both carrying bags full of supplies.

"Oh," Lina said, spotting Noel. "Sorry, didn’t know anyone was here. We can find another space."

"It’s fine," Noel said. "Room’s big enough for all of us."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I’m used to working with noise anyway. Luca’s not exactly quiet when he studies."

Alex laughed. "Fair point."

They claimed a different table this time, giving Noel space but close enough that he could hear their conversation if he wanted to.

Which he didn’t, particularly. But sound carried in the open room.

They worked in focused silence for maybe twenty minutes before discussion started again—something about integrating architectural elements with textile design, a collaborative project for one of their cross-disciplinary classes.

"What if we treated the fabric like a structural element?" Lina suggested.

"Explain."

"Instead of decoration, make it functional. Load-bearing, even."

"That’s... actually brilliant."

"I know."

"Humble too."

"Humility is overrated."

Alex’s laugh was warm, easy.

Noel kept his eyes on his own work, tracking data across spreadsheets, but he was aware of them—the energy between them, different from what he’d observed yesterday.

More playful. More familiar.

Like they were discovering they could be themselves around each other without performance.

His phone buzzed.

Luca: George wants to meet about the project tonight. you free?

Noel: yeah what time

Luca: 7? at our place?

Noel: works for me

Luca: perfect. I’ll order pizza

Noel: always pizza with you 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Luca: pizza is perfect food. no arguments accepted

Noel: wasn’t arguing

Luca: good. you’re learning

Noel smiled, setting his phone down.

At the other table, Lina was explaining something about textile tension while Alex sketched modifications to his architectural design, both of them completely absorbed.

Natural. Collaborative. Easy.

The way creative partnerships were supposed to work.

Noel returned to his analysis, losing himself in data and patterns, the afternoon dissolving into productive work.

When he finally checked the time, it was nearly five.

He packed up his materials, Alex and Lina still deep in their project, barely noticing when he left.

Walking back across campus, Noel thought about patterns—not just in trade data, but in people.

How connections shifted and reformed. How friendships stayed exactly what they were. How timing mattered more than anyone wanted to admit.

Alex and Lina had known each other for years. Had liked each other once, before circumstances intervened. And now, with those circumstances changed, they were finding their way back.

What that something was, Noel didn’t know.

Didn’t need to know.

It was enough to observe that they seemed happy. Comfortable. Natural together.

That was good.

People deserved happiness, whatever form it took.

He made it home to find Luca already there, laptop open on the couch, the cat sprawled across his lap making work difficult.

"You’re back early," Luca said, looking up.

"Finished what I needed to finish. George here yet?"

"Not for another hour. Want to just... exist for a bit before we have to be productive again?"

"Yeah. I’d like that."

Noel joined him on the couch, and they existed no conversation necessary, just the comfort of shared space and quiet companionship.

Sometimes that was enough.