Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 281: Capstone Season

The apartment had developed a particular smell by mid-March—coffee, stress sweat, and the faint staleness of air that hadn’t circulated properly in days because opening windows meant losing precious heat and neither of them had the energy to deal with being cold.

Luca noticed it when he came home at eleven PM on a Tuesday, his third late night this week, his project team having basically moved into the library for what they were calling "the final push."

The living room looked like a paper bomb had detonated—Noel’s capstone research spread across every flat surface, sticky notes color-coding something Luca was too tired to decipher, three empty coffee mugs creating a sad tableau on the coffee table.

Noel himself was at the desk—the chair they’d finally replaced after the wheel incident—hunched over his laptop, shoulders so tense they looked painful.

"Hey," Luca said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

Noel’s response was a grunt that might have been acknowledgment.

"Have you eaten?"

Another grunt. This one possibly meant no.

Luca dropped his bag, surveying the disaster zone that used to be their home.

The cat was hiding under the couch—even the cat knew to avoid humans during capstone season.

"Noel," Luca tried again. "When did you eat last?"

"I don’t know. Lunch? Maybe?"

"That was nine hours ago."

"I had coffee."

"Coffee isn’t food."

"It’s liquid food."

"We’ve had this argument. You lost."

Noel finally turned around, and Luca felt something twist in his chest. His eyes were bloodshot, hair a disaster, the kind of exhaustion that came from pushing too hard for too long.

"I need to finish this section," Noel said. "My advisor wants the draft Thursday and I’m nowhere near done."

"Okay. But you need to eat first."

"I don’t have time—"

"Noel." Luca’s voice came out sharper than intended. "You’re not going to finish anything if you collapse. Eat. Then work."

For a second, Noel looked like he might argue. Then something in his expression crumbled. "I don’t even know what we have."

"I’ll figure it out."

The fridge revealed slim pickings—they’d both been too busy to grocery shop, surviving on whatever required minimal preparation.

Luca found eggs, some questionable cheese, bread that was still technically good.

He made scrambled eggs and toast, nothing fancy, and brought it to Noel still at his desk.

"Eat," Luca said, setting the plate down.

"I should—"

"Eat first. Work after."

Noel picked up the fork with obvious reluctance, but once he started eating, his body seemed to remember it needed fuel. He finished the entire plate in minutes.

"Better?" Luca asked.

"Yeah. Thanks." Noel rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I’m just—"

"I know. It’s capstone season. Everyone’s losing their minds."

"How’s your project?"

"Nightmare. We’re presenting Monday and I’m pretty sure we’re going to fail spectacularly."

"You won’t fail."

"You haven’t seen our slides."

"Emily wouldn’t let you fail. Her perfectionism won’t allow it."

That got a small smile. "Fair point."

Luca started gathering empty mugs, creating some space in the chaos. "When’s your advisor meeting?"

"Thursday at two. Which means I have—" Noel checked his phone, "—thirty-eight hours to make this draft not terrible."

"It’s probably not as bad as you think."

"It’s worse."

"Noel—"

"I’m serious, Luca. I’m trying to synthesize six weeks of research into a coherent argument and it’s not working. Nothing connects. My thesis is falling apart. And if I can’t fix it by Thursday, I’m basically starting over."

The panic in his voice was real, sharp-edged.

Luca moved behind him, hands settling on his shoulders, feeling the knots of tension. "Okay. Here’s what we’re doing. You’re going to save your work. We’re going to bed. Tomorrow morning, with actual sleep and food in you, you’re going to look at this with fresh eyes."

"I can’t—"

"Yes, you can. Your brain is mush right now. You know I’m right."

"I hate that you’re right."

"I know."

It took another ten minutes of coaxing, but Luca finally got Noel away from his laptop, through a minimal nighttime routine, and into bed. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

The moment Noel’s head hit the pillow, he was asleep—the kind of immediate unconsciousness that came from exhaustion finally winning.

Luca lay awake longer, staring at their ceiling, thinking about deadlines and pressure and how close to the edge everyone was getting.

Wednesday morning, Luca woke to find Noel already gone—a note on the nightstand saying he’d gone to campus early to work in the library.

Of course he had.

Luca’s own day was packed—two classes, project meeting at lunch, another class, then Emily had scheduled an "emergency presentation rehearsal" for six PM that would probably run until nine.

He grabbed coffee and a protein bar, the closest thing to breakfast he had time for, and headed out.

Campus had a particular energy in mid-March—everyone moving faster, conversations more clipped, the collective stress visible in how people carried themselves.

In his Operations lecture, Professor Martinez announced that final projects were due two weeks earlier than originally planned.

The collective groan was audible.

"Life doesn’t wait for convenient timing," Martinez said, unmoved. "Neither does business. Adapt."

After class, Luca met George and Emily in their usual study room.

Emily looked worse than Noel—her usually impeccable appearance showing cracks, hair in a messy, the energy of someone running on fumes and determination.

"Okay," she said without preamble. "Our presentation is Monday. That’s five days. We have so much to fix."

"It’s not that bad," George said.

"It’s terrible. The flow is wrong, half our data isn’t visualized properly, and our conclusion is weak."

"Emily," Luca said carefully. "We’ve gone over this presentation six times. It’s solid."

"Solid isn’t good enough. We need excellent."

"We need to pass. That’s the actual requirement."

"I don’t do ’just pass.’" Her voice was brittle. "I can’t—I need this to be good. I need something to be good."

George and Luca exchanged glances.

"When did you sleep last?" George asked.

"I don’t know. But I sleep? Maybe?"

"Emily—"

"Don’t. I know what you’re going to say. I need to rest. I need to take care of myself. I know. But I don’t have time. None of us have time."

She wasn’t wrong. They were all drowning in different ways.

They worked through lunch, making adjustments that were probably unnecessary but that Emily insisted on, her perfectionism in full control.

Around three, Luca’s phone buzzed.

Noel: advisor meeting moved to tomorrow morning. need to finish tonight

Luca: you okay?

Noel: no. but I’m functional

Luca: I have rehearsal until 9. won’t be home until late

Noel: ok

Luca: we’re both a mess right now

Noel: mid-march tradition

That night, the presentation rehearsal was exactly as painful as expected—Emily finding problems with everything, George getting increasingly frustrated, Luca trying to mediate while also defending their work.

"This slide transition is jarring," Emily said for the third time.

"It’s a slide transition," George said flatly. "It transitions. That’s literally its only job."

"But the flow—"

"Emily." George’s patience was clearly running out. "We’ve been here for two and a half hours. The presentation is fine. Better than fine. We need to stop."

"We need to fix—"

"No." George stood up. "I’m done. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I have my own capstone to work on. We’re presenting Monday whether it’s perfect or not."

Emily looked ready to argue, then seemed to deflate. "You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just—"

"We know," Luca said gently. "We’re all stressed. But George is right. We need to stop for tonight."

She nodded, closing her laptop with trembling hands.

They packed up in silence, the usual easy energy between them strained by exhaustion and pressure.

Walking out, George pulled Luca aside. "Is she okay? Like, really okay?"

"I don’t know. I think she’s barely holding it together."

"Same. We should... I don’t know. Check on her."

"Yeah."

They parted ways outside the library, George heading to the train, Emily walking toward her apartment, Luca making his way home through the cold March night.

The apartment was dark when he arrived, except for the lamp at Noel’s desk. He was still there, still working, same position as the night before.

"Hey," Luca said.

"Hey." Noel didn’t look up. "How was rehearsal?"

"Terrible. Emily’s spiraling. George almost walked out."

"Capstone season brings out everyone’s worst."

"How’s yours going?"

"Better. I think. I’m on my third coffee and everything’s starting to look like abstract poetry, so either I’ve achieved enlightenment or I’m having a breakdown."

"Probably breakdown."

"Probably."

Luca moved closer, looking at the screen. "Can I help?"

"Not unless you suddenly became an expert in international trade policy."

"Then I’m going to make you stop. Just for tonight."

"Luca—"

"Noel." Luca gently closed the laptop. "You’ve been working for sixteen hours. Your meeting is tomorrow morning. Killing yourself tonight won’t make the draft better."

"But—"

"No buts. We’re both exhausted. We’re both stressed. But we can be exhausted and stressed while lying down."

For a moment, Noel looked like he might protest. Then he just nodded, the fight going out of him.

They went through the motions—brushing teeth, changing clothes, the routine now mechanical rather than conscious.

In bed, neither spoke. Just lay there in the darkness, both too wired to sleep despite exhaustion.

"I don’t know if I can do this," Noel said eventually, voice small.

"Do what?"

"All of it. Finish the capstone. Graduate. Figure out what comes next. I feel like I’m failing at everything."

Luca reached for his hand in the darkness. "You’re not failing. You’re exhausted. There’s a difference."

"Doesn’t feel different."

"I know."

They were quiet again.

"I’m scared," Noel admitted. "That I’ve worked this hard and it won’t be good enough. That I’ll disappoint everyone. That I don’t actually know what I’m doing."

"You’re not alone in feeling that. I’m terrified too. Emily’s clearly terrified. George is pretending he’s not but he is. We’re all just barely holding it together."

"That’s not comforting."

"It’s honest."

Noel shifted closer, and Luca wrapped around him, offering what comfort he could through proximity.

"We’ll get through this," Luca said quietly. "Somehow. All of us."

"You sound more certain than I feel."

"One of us has to."

They finally fell asleep sometime after two, exhausted and stressed and holding onto each other like lifelines.

Tomorrow would bring more deadlines, more pressure, more reasons to panic.

But tomorrow wasn’t here yet.

Right now, they had this—each other, in the darkness, trying to be enough.