Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 292: Quiet Hours

The food arrived forty minutes later—pad thai, green curry, spring rolls still crispy and hot.

They ate on the couch, containers spread across the coffee table, the cooking show playing on low volume. Noel criticized every technique. Luca pointed out he was still watching.

"I’m not watching, I’m observing," Noel said around a mouthful of noodles.

"That’s the same thing."

"Observing is passive. Watching implies engagement."

"You’re engaged. You just yelled at that guy for not resting his meat."

"He didn’t rest it long enough."

Luca grinned, stealing a spring roll from Noel’s container. "You love this show."

"I tolerate it."

"Same thing."

Noel kicked his ankle lightly, but he was smiling.

The afternoon dissolved into evening. They finished the food, migrated to opposite ends of the couch—Noel reading something dense and academic, Luca scrolling mindlessly through his phone. The cat claimed the space between them, purring loud enough to be heard over the television.

Around eight, Luca’s eyes started drifting closed.

"Bed," Noel said, not looking up from his book.

"Not tired."

"You’re falling asleep sitting up."

"Just resting my eyes."

Noel closed his book, standing and pulling Luca up with him. "Come on."

They brushed their teeth side by side, bumping elbows in the small bathroom. Luca changed into sleep clothes while Noel set his alarm for the morning.

The bed was cool when they slid in. Noel reached over, turning off the lamp, and darkness settled over them like a blanket.

"Night," Luca mumbled, already half gone.

Noel’s arm came around his waist, pulling him close. "Night."

Sunday passed in the same easy rhythm.

Brunch at the kitchen table—eggs and coffee and Noel reading the news on his phone.

A walk to the convenience store for groceries they didn’t really need but wanted anyway.

An afternoon where Luca reorganized their bookshelf while Noel pretended not to watch.

"You’re putting them in the wrong order," Noel said eventually.

"There’s no wrong order."

"Alphabetical makes sense."

"By color is more aesthetic."

"By color is chaos."

Luca looked over his shoulder. "You want to do this?"

"No."

"Then let me work."

Noel returned to his book, but Luca caught him glancing over every few minutes, clearly bothered by the chromatic arrangement.

Evening came. They made dinner together—pasta with whatever vegetables were left in the fridge, sauce from a jar because neither of them had the energy for anything complicated.

No elaboration needed. Tomorrow meant back to campus, back to routine, back to the final stretch before everything changed.

They went to bed early. Noel’s alarm would go off at seven.

Monday morning arrived right on schedule.

Luca woke to Noel moving around the room, already dressed, gathering his things.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, still pale and new.

"What time is it?" Luca asked.

"Seven thirty. Go back to sleep."

"I’m up." Luca pushed himself out of bed, heading for the bathroom. When he emerged, Noel was making coffee, two mugs already waiting.

They drank in companionable quiet, Noel checking his bag one more time, Luca slowly becoming human.

"I’ve got lectures until three," Noel said. "Then library."

"I’ve got a project meeting at ten. Evening lecture at five."

"I’ll be in the library after. Third floor."

"I’ll find you."

Noel crossed to him, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. "See you later."

"Good luck."

"It’s just lectures."

"Still."

The door closed behind him. Luca finished his coffee, got dressed, and headed out twenty minutes later.

Campus was Monday-morning busy—students hurrying to classes, the quad filled with people clustered around coffee carts and benches.

Luca found Emily and George in their usual spot outside the Business building, both looking various degrees of tired.

"Morning," George said, sipping something that was probably more caffeine than liquid.

"You look rough," Luca observed.

"Family meeting last night. Dad wouldn’t stop asking about my capstone."

Emily made a sympathetic noise. She had her laptop open, already reviewing something. "Did you finish the market analysis section?"

"Sent it Saturday," George said. "You?"

"Sunday morning. Still needs work, but it’s closer."

Luca dropped his bag, settling beside them. "How much closer?"

"Closer than it was. Far from done." Emily closed her laptop, looking at him properly. "You submitted yours, right?"

"Friday night."

"How’s it feel?"

"Terrifying. Relieving. Both at once."

"That’s accurate," George said. "I submitted mine yesterday. Now I just get to panic until the defense."

"When is it?"

"Next Monday. You?"

"Thursday."

Emily glanced between them. "We’re really doing this."

"Apparently."

"I keep waiting for someone to tell me I’m not ready," she admitted. "Like there’s some final test I haven’t studied for."

"There kind of is," George pointed out. "The defense."

"Thanks. Very helpful."

"I live to serve."

The conversation shifted naturally—project logistics, who was presenting what, the readings none of them had finished for their afternoon seminar. Easy, familiar territory.

A group of underclassmen passed by, laughing about something. Luca watched them, feeling strange. Had they ever been that unburdened?

"You okay?" Emily asked.

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"Dangerous activity."

"Hilarious." But he smiled. "It’s weird, right? That we’re almost done."

George leaned back, stretching his legs out. "Weird doesn’t cover it. Surreal, maybe."

"I keep expecting to wake up and find out I’m still a freshman," Emily said.

"Please no," George groaned. "I barely survived being a freshman once."

"You showed up drunk to orientation."

"Exactly. Barely survived."

Emily laughed, and something about it felt lighter than it had in weeks. Like maybe she was finally okay. Not perfect, not completely healed, but okay enough.

"We should probably go in," Luca said, checking his phone. "Meeting starts in ten."

They gathered their things, heading inside. The building smelled like old coffee and printer ink, familiar and soon to be missed.

The meeting ran long.

Their professor wanted updates from every group, detailed breakdowns of methodology and findings and revision plans. By the time they escaped, it was past noon.

"Food?" George suggested.

"Please," Emily said.

They grabbed sandwiches from the student center, ate outside despite the chill.

The quad was full of people between classes, that particular energy of a Monday where everyone was still adjusting to structure after the weekend.

Luca’s phone buzzed. A text from Noel: Lecture canceled. In library now.

He typed back: See you later.

"Noel?" Emily asked.

"Yeah. His afternoon got freed up."

"Defense tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"He ready?"

"As ready as he can be."

George nodded. "He’ll be fine. Noel’s got that whole competent-genius thing going for him."

"Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego doesn’t need help."

"Your boyfriend is a perfectionist with imposter syndrome. His ego is fine."

"Fair point."

They finished eating, parted ways. Emily had a meeting with her advisor, George had research to do, and Luca had three hours before his evening lecture.

He wandered campus aimlessly for a while, then found himself at the art building.

Inside was quiet, most people in classes or studios. He took the stairs to the third floor collaborative space, settled at his usual table.

The afternoon passed slowly. He reviewed his defense notes, reorganized his citations, answered emails from his advisor about scheduling.

At 4:45, he packed up and headed to the lecture hall.

The evening lecture was exactly as tedious as expected.

Two hours of international market strategy, the professor droning through slides that could have been an email.

Luca took notes more out of habit than necessity, watching the clock creep toward seven.

When it finally ended, he gathered his things quickly.

The campus was darker now, lamps flickering on across walkways.

Luca headed for the library, taking the stairs two at a time.

Third floor was nearly empty—a couple of students at computers, someone asleep in one of the study pods.

He found Noel at their usual table by the window.

His head was pillowed on his arms, glasses pushed up into his hair, textbook open in front of him.

He looked younger like this, softer, the tension that usually lived in his shoulders completely absent.

Luca approached quietly, setting his bag down.

He didn’t wake him immediately—just stood there, watching the rise and fall of his breathing, the way his fingers were still loosely curled around his pen.

After a moment, he reached out, touching Noel’s shoulder gently.

"Hey."

Noel stirred, blinking slowly. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven."

"Oh." He sat up, rubbing his face. His hair stuck up at odd angles where he’d been pressed against his arm. "I was reading."

"I can see that."

"Just for a minute."

"Sure." Luca handed him his glasses. "Come on. Let’s go home."

Noel gathered his things slowly, still half asleep.

They left the library together, stepping out into the cool evening air.

The walk home was quiet. Noel’s hand found his somewhere along the second block, their fingers lacing together naturally.

"Long day?" Luca asked.

"Longer than expected." Noel yawned, not bothering to cover it. "You?"

"Same."

"How was the lecture?"

"Boring. How was the library nap?"

"Unintentional."

"Obviously."

They turned onto their street, the familiar buildings coming into view.

Lights in windows, the sound of someone’s television through thin walls, a dog barking in the distance.

Home.

Luca squeezed Noel’s hand. "Tomorrow’s going to be fine."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Noel stopped walking, turning to face him properly. In the streetlight, his expression was open, honest. "Yeah. I think I do."

"Good."

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Then Noel smiled—small, genuine—and tugged him forward.

"Come on. I’m starving."

"When aren’t you starving?"

"Rude."

"Accurate."

They climbed the stairs to their apartment, cat meowing accusations the moment they opened the door.

Luca fed the cat while Noel collapsed on the couch, already looking half asleep again.

The evening settled around them, familiar and easy.

Tomorrow would come. The defense, the questions, the nerves. But tonight was just this—home, together, ready for whatever came next.