Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 309: Part One: Dear Roommate

Luca woke to sunlight stabbing through his skull and his neck at an impossible angle.

He was on the couch. Noel was beneath him, one arm draped across his back, breathing slowly.

His head pounded. His mouth tasted like regret and cheap beer.

"Noel," he croaked.

"No."

"We have to get up."

"No."

"It’s graduation day."

Noel’s eyes opened slowly, squinting against the light. "Oh god."

"Yeah."

They extracted themselves from each other carefully, every movement causing pain.

Luca’s phone showed eight forty-three. Ceremony started at eleven.

"We have time," he said, not entirely convinced.

"Barely."

They stumbled to the kitchen. Noel filled two glasses of water, handed one to Luca. They drank in synchronized misery.

"Why did we do that?" Noel asked.

"Because we’re idiots."

"Accurate."

"Also we were fighting."

"About laundry."

"The stupidest fight."

"Agreed."

They finished their water. Luca refilled both glasses, drank again. His head was clearing marginally, the fog lifting to reveal the reality of what today was.

Graduation.

"Shower," Noel said. "Both of us. Now."

They showered together, the hot water helping significantly.

Luca leaned against the tile wall, letting steam work through the worst of the hangover.

"I’m sorry about yesterday," he said.

"I’m sorry too. I was harsh."

"I was being stubborn."

"We’re both stubborn."

"Unfortunately true."

They emerged feeling more human. Changed into the required attire—dress clothes under graduation gowns, caps that neither of them could figure out how to wear correctly.

"Is this right?" Luca asked, adjusting his cap for the fifth time.

"No. It’s crooked."

"It was crooked the other way before."

"It’s always crooked."

Luca pulled out his phone. "Pictures."

"Luca, we’re going to be late."

"We have forty-five minutes. Pictures first."

"We’ll take pictures at the ceremony."

"Those are official pictures. These are our pictures." Luca positioned them in front of their bookshelf, held his phone out. "Smile."

"I’m hungover."

"Smile anyway."

Noel smiled grudgingly. Luca took the photo, checked it, took three more.

"Okay, now serious faces."

"Why?"

"For variety."

They took serious photos. Then ones where Luca kissed Noel’s cheek while Noel looked annoyed but pleased.

Then one where they both actually smiled, genuine and happy despite their hangovers.

"Balcony," Luca decided.

"Luca—"

"Five more minutes."

They took photos on the balcony with the city behind them.

In the kitchen where they’d made countless meals. In the bedroom doorway where they’d spent so many mornings.

"Satisfied?" Noel asked.

"Almost." Luca set his phone on the coffee table, timer mode. "One more. Both of us, right here."

He positioned them on the couch, his arm around Noel, both in their caps and gowns. The timer counted down. Three, two, one—

Click.

Luca checked it. They looked young and tired and happy, about to graduate, about to start something new.

"Perfect," he said quietly.

"Can we leave now?"

"Yes. Now we can leave."

They gathered their things, locked the apartment, headed to campus.

The quad was transformed—rows of chairs set up, a stage with podium and flowers, families everywhere taking photos and claiming seats.

"There’s a lot of people," Luca observed.

"It’s graduation."

"I know, just—" He stopped. "It’s real."

"It’s real."

They found their respective sections—Noel with International Business, Luca with Business Studies. Emily was already there, looking surprisingly alert.

"You’re alive," she said.

"Barely. You?"

"I left the party at ten. Unlike some people who apparently tried to drink themselves to death."

"It wasn’t that bad."

"George said you were having a drinking competition with Noel."

"It was—" Luca stopped. "Yeah, okay, that happened."

"Idiots."

"Complete idiots."

George appeared, looking worse than Luca felt. "I’m dying."

"Same."

"Why did we drink that much?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Terrible idea."

They sat in order—Luca between someone named Catherine and someone named David. Emily was three rows ahead, George five rows back.

The seats filled gradually. Luca scanned the crowd, looking for his dad.

Found him in the third row, looking out of place in a suit, clearly uncomfortable with the crowd but here anyway.

Their eyes met. Mr. Smith nodded once, small and restrained but meaningful.

Luca nodded back.

Music started playing. The ceremony was beginning.

Professor Morrison approached the podium, adjusted the microphone. "Welcome, families and friends, to the graduation ceremony for the Class of 2026..."

Her voice faded into background noise. Luca sat in his chair, cap crooked on his head, hangover still present but manageable, and thought about four years.

Freshman year—lost, directionless, skipping classes until his dad forced him back.

That conversation still played in his head sometimes.

Luca smiled to himself, remembering that morning.

The hangover, the anger, his father standing in the doorway looking disappointed and exhausted.

"We’re done."

Luca had sat up straighter, heart thudding. "Wait, done what?"

"You either start pulling your weight or stop using my money. I’m done funding this." His father had gestured around the room, at the chaos. At him.

"Okay. Chill. I’ll go to class."

"Not just class. You’re leaving this house. Or you can hand me your cards, your car keys—everything."

Luca had stared at him. "You’re serious?"

"I should’ve done this sooner. Letting you do what you want—that’s what spoiled you. But now? I’m done waking up to strangers in my guest room. This isn’t a damn club, Luca."

Luca had swung his legs off the bed, dizzy. "C’mon, Dad—"

"No." His father didn’t shout. He didn’t have to. The low finality in his tone landed harder. "You’re grown. Start acting like it. All you do is party, sleep, bring home guys you don’t even remember the next day—"

"That’s not—" Luca had winced. "Okay, maybe once or twice."

His father just stared. Cool. Disappointed. Like he was looking through him.

Luca sighed, dragging a hand through his tangled hair. "So what now, huh? You’re kicking me out?"

"I want you focused. That means you’re moving to the campus hostel. It’s ten minutes from your college. They’ll watch you better than I can."

Luca had laughed bitterly. "What am I, twelve?"

"You want to keep the card? Then you’re moving out."

"This is insane."

"No, Luca," his father said calmly. "What you’ve been doing is insane."

"Pack. You leave tomorrow."

And he had. Packed with resentment, shown up to his assigned dorm room ready to hate everything.

And there was Noel.

Organized, quiet, completely unimpressed by Luca’s attitude. They’d been assigned alphabetically.

It’s all tense. Luca stayed out late, came back loud, left his things everywhere. Noel said nothing, just reorganized his side of the room and ignored him.

Luca actually went to class. Hated it less than expected.

Eventually they had their first real conversation.

About nothing important—some show they both watched, a professor they both had. But it was a start.

And somehow, over four years, that became this.

Luca smiled to himself. If his dad hadn’t forced him into the dorms, he’d have never met Noel. Never figured out what he actually wanted.

"...and now, we’ll begin calling graduates to the stage..."

Names started being called. Students walked across, shook hands, received diplomas, moved their tassels from right to left.

Emily’s name was called. She walked confidently, shook Morrison’s hand, grinned at the crowd.

More names. More walking. The alphabet progressing slowly.

"Luca Hart."

He stood, walked to the stage. The steps felt surreal, like something happening to someone else.

Morrison shook his hand, handed him the diploma. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

He walked across the stage, found his dad in the crowd. Mr. Smith was clapping, actually smiling.

Luca returned to his seat, diploma in hand, officially a graduate.

The ceremony continued. More names, more walking.

"Noel Avery."

Luca watched him walk across—composed, graceful, receiving his diploma with quiet dignity. When he passed, their eyes met briefly.

Noel smiled.

Luca smiled back.

After the Business sections came Arts, Sciences, Engineering.

The ceremony stretched on, the sun climbing higher, everyone getting gradually warmer in their gowns.

Finally, the last name was called. Morrison returned to the podium.

"Congratulations, Class of 2026. You are officially graduates."

Caps flew into the air. Cheering erupted. People hugged, cried, laughed.

Luca stood, looking for Noel. Found him in the crowd, pushing through people.

They reached each other, and Noel pulled him into a hug—tight, fierce, meaningful.

"We did it," Noel said.

"We actually did it."

Emily crashed into them, arms around both. "Group hug! We’re graduates!"

George appeared, adding himself to the pile. "We survived!"

They stood there, four people who’d started as strangers and become something permanent, holding onto each other in the chaos.

Eventually they broke apart. Families were finding their graduates, photos happening everywhere.

Luca found his dad first. Mr. Smith pulled him into an unexpected hug.

"Proud of you," he said quietly.

"Thanks, Dad."

"You did good. Really good."

They broke apart. Mr. Smith looked at Noel, extended his hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith."

"Take care of him."

"Always."

A voice called from behind them. "Noel!"

They turned. A man was approaching—tall, greying hair, glasses. He looked like Noel but older.

Noel’s face registered shock. "Dad? What are you—"

"Your mother had to work, but I wasn’t missing this." Richard pulled him into a hug. "Congratulations, son."

"You said you couldn’t make it."

"I lied. Wanted to surprise you." He pulled back, looked at Luca. "You must be Luca."

"Yes, sir."

"I’ve heard a lot about you." He extended his hand. Luca shook it, feeling suddenly formal.

"All good things, I hope."

"Mostly." But he was smiling. "Thank you for taking care of my son."

"He takes care of me too."

Richard turned to Mr. Smith, and they shook hands—two fathers meeting for the first time, both clearly proud, both clearly relieved.

Photos happened. Luca with his dad. Noel with his. Both of them with both fathers. The four of them together.

Emily appeared with her parents, George with his visiting family. Alex and Lina found them, congratulations exchanged all around.

Around two, families started dispersing. George’s family was taking him to lunch before his evening flight—China-bound tomorrow.

"This is it," George said, hugging Luca. "I’m actually leaving."

"Text constantly."

"Obviously. Who else will I complain to?"

"Emily."

"True." George hugged Noel next. "Take care of each other."

"We will."

Emily hugged him last, holding on longer. "I’m going to miss you."

"Miss you too. But not that much. You’re annoying."

"You’re worse."

They broke apart, both a little teary.

George left with his family. Alex and Lina headed to their own celebration. Emily’s parents whisked her away for lunch.

Mr. Smith had a business call, needed to leave. Mr. Richard was meeting old colleagues for coffee.

Suddenly it was just them.

"Want to get out of here?" Luca asked.

"Please."

They walked across campus one last time—past buildings they’d studied in, the library where they’d spent countless hours, the quad where they’d met friends and had lunch and existed as students.

"It looks different," Noel observed.

"Because we’re leaving."

"Yeah."

They ended up at the park a few blocks from campus—the one with the pond and walking paths and benches under trees.

Found a quiet spot, sat down. Their gowns were getting wrinkled but neither cared.

"We’re graduates," Luca said.

"Officially."

"What now?"

Noel was quiet for a moment. "I don’t know. Still figuring it out."

"Me too."

"That okay?"

"Yeah. It is."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching ducks on the pond, people jogging past, the world continuing around them.

"I’ve been thinking," Luca said eventually. "About...How I ended up in that dorm room."

"Your dad forcing you back to school."

"Yeah. I was so mad at him. Thought he was ruining my life." Luca smiled. "But if he hadn’t done that—if he’d let me keep skipping, keep partying, keep being directionless—I never would’ve met you."

Noel’s hand found his. "Alphabetical assignment."

"Luca and Noel."

"Lucky."

"Very lucky."

Noel turned to look at him properly. "You changed my life. You know that?"

"You changed mine first."

"I was wound too tight. Took everything too seriously. You taught me how to breathe."

"You taught me how to focus. How to care about something besides the next party."

"We’re very good for each other."

"We are."

Luca leaned in, kissed him softly. The park continued around them—life happening, world turning, everything changing and staying the same simultaneously.

When they broke apart, the sun was starting its descent, painting everything gold.

"We should go," Noel said. "Dinner at seven."

"Yeah."

But neither of them moved. Just sat there, hands linked, watching the light change.

"Noel?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Just—I know I say it a lot, but I mean it. Every time."

"I know. I love you too."

"Whatever happens next—"

"We figure it out together."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They stood finally, stretched out the stiffness. Started walking back toward their apartment.

"Home?" Luca asked.

"Home," Noel agreed.

They walked hand in hand, two graduates in wrinkled gowns, heading toward whatever came next.

"Hey," Luca said as they reached their street.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being my roommate."

Noel looked at him, something soft crossing his face. "Thanks for being my everything else."

Luca Smiled. "Thought we’re not roommates anymore."

"No. We’re not."

"We’re just... us."

"Just us," Noel agreed. "Partners. Boyfriends. Whatever label fits."

"I like ’us’ better."

"Me too."

The title of their story had been true once—Dear Roommate, Please Stop Being Hot. But they weren’t roommates anymore.

They were partners. Lovers. Each other’s home.

And as they walked through the familiar streets, toward the apartment they’d built together, toward a future they’d figure out side by side—

That was more than enough.

That was everything.