Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 308: Drunk, Stubborn, in Love

Friday morning was perfect.

Luca woke to sunlight and Noel’s arm around his waist, pulling him close.

They stayed in bed longer than necessary, trading lazy kisses, existing in the warm bubble of having nowhere to be.

"Coffee?" Noel murmured against his shoulder. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"In a minute."

"You said that twenty minutes ago."

"I’m conserving energy."

"For what?"

"Existing."

Noel huffed a quiet laugh, kissed the back of his neck, and eventually extracted himself. Luca heard him moving around the kitchen, the coffee maker gurgling to life.

By the time Luca dragged himself out of bed, Noel had breakfast ready—toast, eggs, fruit cut into neat pieces.

"You’re very domestic this morning," Luca observed.

"Last full day before graduation. Seemed appropriate."

Luca watched Noel move around the kitchen, barefoot, humming under his breath.

He leaned against the counter, unnoticed.

"You’re staring," Noel said without looking up.

"Just memorizing," Luca replied.

Noel glanced over, amused. "For what?"

"For when everything gets loud again."

Noel set the plate down, stepped closer. "You think we’re going to forget this?"

Luca shrugged. "Life gets busy."

Noel kissed him—slow, unhurried. "Then we’ll make time."

Luca smiled. "Promise?"

"Yeah."

They ate on the balcony, the city already alive below them.

The morning stretched out easy and unhurried, no obligations until the evening party.

Around two, Noel stood from the couch where they’d been reading. "We should do laundry."

Luca looked up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because we’re out of clean clothes."

"I have clothes."

"You have dirty clothes scattered across our bedroom floor."

"They’re not that dirty."

"Luca." Noel gestured toward the bedroom. "There are jeans on the chair, shirts on the floor, that jacket you wore Tuesday is hanging off the doorknob. It’s a disaster."

"It’s organized chaos."

"It’s chaos."

"We can do it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is graduation. We’ll be busy."

"Sunday then."

"Why not today when we have time?"

"Because I don’t want to."

Noel’s jaw tightened. "You never want to."

"That’s not true."

"It absolutely is. Every time I suggest laundry, you find an excuse."

"Because laundry is boring."

"It’s also necessary."

"It can be necessary tomorrow."

"Luca—"

"What?" Luca set his phone down, irritation creeping in. "Why are we arguing about laundry?"

"Because you’re being irresponsible."

"I’m not being irresponsible, I’m just not doing it right this second."

"Your clothes are everywhere. The room looks like a tornado hit it."

"So what? It’s my mess."

"It’s our room." Noel’s voice was getting sharper. "I’m trying to keep things clean and organized, and you just throw your stuff everywhere like—like you don’t care."

"I care. I just have different priorities."

"Apparently your priority is living in chaos."

"Apparently your priority is being controlling about when we do laundry."

Noel stared at him. "Controlling?"

"You’re trying to dictate when I clean my own clothes."

"I’m trying to maintain basic cleanliness in our shared space."

"By nagging me about it."

"I wouldn’t have to nag if you’d just be responsible."

The word hung there. Responsible.

Luca felt something hot flash through his chest. "I’m not responsible?"

"About this? No. You’re not."

"That’s—" Luca stood. "You know what? Fine. Do whatever you want. I’m not arguing about laundry."

"Good. Neither am I."

Noel grabbed his jacket, walked out. The door didn’t slam, but it closed firmly.

Luca stood in the living room, breathing hard, anger and frustration tangled together.

He looked at the bedroom. Clothes were everywhere. Noel was right about that part. But still—it could wait. It wasn’t that urgent.

Except Noel had asked. And Luca had refused. And maybe that was the actual problem.

He walked to the bedroom, started gathering clothes. Sorted them into piles—darks, lights, delicates. Stripped the bed, added the sheets. Found stray socks under the dresser.

The room looked better. Cleaner. More organized.

He still felt irritated.

Noel had gone to the couch, laptop open, clearly not working but pretending to. His jaw was still tight, shoulders tense.

Luca carried the laundry to the washer, started a load. Came back to the bedroom, put clean sheets on the bed. Put away the clothes that were actually clean.

Neither of them spoke.

Around five, Luca’s phone buzzed. George: Party starts at 8. You guys coming?

He typed back: Yeah.

George: You sound thrilled.

Luca: Just tired.

George: Get un-tired. It’s our last party as students.

Luca set his phone down, stared at the ceiling.

He should apologize. Noel had been right about the mess. But also, Noel could’ve been less sharp about it. Could’ve asked nicer.

They were both being stupid.

Six o’clock arrived. They needed to start getting ready.

Luca got up, went to the bedroom, started pulling out clothes.

Noel appeared in the doorway. "I’m showering first."

"Fine."

The bathroom door closed. Water started running.

Luca changed into going-out clothes—dark jeans, a shirt he knew looked good.

Normally Noel would comment, say something about how he looked. Today, nothing.

Noel emerged, changed silently. Black jeans, grey shirt, styled his hair with more care than usual.

He looked good. Luca didn’t say so.

They left at seven thirty, walking to campus in silence.

The party was in the main quad—someone had strung lights everywhere, set up speakers, brought kegs and tables of drinks.

Students filled the space, loud and celebrating, the energy of endings and beginnings mixing together.

Emily found them immediately. "Finally! I thought you weren’t coming."

"We’re here," Luca said.

"You both look mad. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Clearly something."

"We’re fine," Noel said flatly.

Emily looked between them, decided not to push. "Okay. Well, there’s drinks over there. And George is already making questionable decisions near the speakers."

She disappeared into the crowd.

Luca headed straight for the drinks table. Poured himself something strong, drank half immediately.

Noel appeared beside him. "Two drinks maximum."

"Don’t tell me what to do."

"Luca—"

"I’m an adult. I can decide how much to drink."

"Fine." Noel grabbed a cup, poured his own drink. "Do whatever you want."

"I will."

Luca poured a second drink. Noel matched him.

Third drink. Noel kept pace.

By the fifth, they were both starting to feel it—the pleasant looseness, the way the music got louder and the lights got brighter.

"You’re being stupid," Luca said.

"You started it."

"You’re the one matching me drink for drink."

"Because you won’t listen to reason."

"There’s no reason. It’s a party."

"It’s the night before graduation."

"Exactly. Last chance to be irresponsible."

Noel poured a sixth drink. "Then let’s be irresponsible."

They drank. The party blurred around them—music thumping, people dancing, conversations happening that neither of them were part of.

Emily appeared again. "Are you two okay?"

"Perfect," Luca said.

"You’re both drunk."

"Observant."

"Luca—"

"We’re fine, Em. Just celebrating."

She looked worried but let it go.

The party continued. Luca danced, drank more, lost track of Noel in the crowd.

Found him later near the speakers, talking to someone from his program, looking loose and unguarded in a way he only got when drunk.

By eleven, the party was winding down. Students dispersing, heading to dorms or apartments, the quad emptying slowly.

Luca found Noel leaning against a tree, eyes half-closed.

"Come on," Luca said. "We’re going home."

"You’re bossy when drunk."

"You’re quiet when drunk."

"I’m always quiet."

"More quiet."

They started walking, both unsteady, supporting each other without acknowledging it.

"I’m still mad at you," Luca said.

"I’m still mad at you too."

"Good."

"Fine."

They walked in silence for a block.

"You were right about the laundry," Luca admitted.

"I know."

"You could’ve been nicer about it."

"I could’ve." Noel stumbled slightly, Luca caught him. "You could’ve just done it when I asked."

"I know."

More silence. Two more blocks.

"I love you," Luca said suddenly.

"I love you too."

"But you’re annoying."

"And you’re irresponsible."

"I’m not irresponsible."

"You are sometimes."

"You’re controlling sometimes."

"I’m organized."

"It’s the same thing."

"It’s not the same thing."

They reached their building, climbed the stairs carefully. Luca fumbled with the keys, finally got the door open.

Inside, they collapsed on the couch together.

"We’re idiots," Noel said.

"Complete idiots."

"Fighting about laundry."

"And then getting drunk about it."

"The night before graduation."

"Perfect timing."

They sat there, room spinning slightly, both too drunk and tired to move to the bedroom.

"I’m sorry," Luca said finally.

"I’m sorry too."

"We’re terrible at fighting."

"Yeah the worst."

"We’re also terrible at drinking apparently."

"That too."

Luca shifted, curled into Noel’s side. Noel’s arm came around him automatically, holding him close.

"Tomorrow’s graduation," Luca murmured.

"We’re going to be so hungover."

"Worth it though."

"Debatable."

"I love you."

"You said that already."

"Saying it again."

Noel kissed the top of his head. "Love you too. Even when you leave clothes everywhere."

"Love you even when you’re controlling about laundry."

"Organized."

"Whatever."

They fell asleep there, tangled together on the couch, drunk and stupid and completely in love.

Tomorrow would bring consequences—hangovers, graduation, the reality of everything changing.

But tonight was just this.

Them, idiots together.

Exactly as it should be.