Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 319: Monday Exists

The first light of Monday spilled softly through the curtains, pale and persistent.

The smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom, rich and comforting.

Luca groaned, flinging his arm across his eyes. "Five more minutes."

"Nope," Noel called from the kitchen, his tone playful but firm. "Five more minutes is over. Monday exists. You exist. And they expect you."

Luca rolled over, the blanket tangled around him. "I don’t exist yet. Let me hibernate."

Noel chuckled as he came closer. "Hibernate all you want later. Right now, coffee exists. Breakfast exists. You should probably exist too."

"Breakfast exists for you," Luca muttered, dragging a hand across his face. "Not me."

"Wrong." Noel appeared in the doorway, sliding a plate onto the nightstand with a soft clink. "You get breakfast. I made your favorite—eggs, toast, and that ridiculous avocado thing you like."

Luca’s nose twitched. "That does sound unfairly good."

"I aim to please." Noel perched on the edge of the bed, brushing back a strand of Luca’s hair. "Come on. Just sit up. Smell it at least."

Luca peeked one eye open, squinting at the plate. "Fine. For the smell. Not for the work part."

"You’ll have to deal with that too." Noel nudged him gently. "The world isn’t going to pause because you’re cozy."

Luca groaned, rolling onto his side to face him. "You’re cruel."

"I’m realistic." Noel’s thumb traced along Luca’s jaw. "And considerate. Look, I made coffee too. It’s basically a life-or-death situation. You need to survive Monday."

"I might survive," Luca mumbled, dragging himself upright. The blanket fell around his shoulders, and his hair stuck up in messy spikes. "Barely. If I survive, it’s because of you."

Noel grinned. "Of course. That’s my job—to make sure you survive Mondays and look good doing it."

"I’ll try. But only if you stay close. Don’t leave me alone in the cold corporate world."

"Deal." Noel leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "But you have to get dressed eventually. The suit won’t magically appear on your body."

Luca groaned again, dramatic and genuine. "Why does Monday exist?"

"Because it’s important. Like you." Noel’s hand slid down Luca’s arm. "You’re important. To the company. To me. Get up, Mr. Luca."

"Fine." Luca finally swung his legs over the side of the bed. "But I get coffee first. And maybe a kiss to make it bearable."

"Only if you promise not to sulk on the way to the office." Noel handed him the mug.

Luca took it, inhaling the rich aroma. "Okay, deal. But next Monday? I’ll fight you for five extra minutes."

"Next Monday, I win. Always."

Luca smiled, the edges of exhaustion softening under warmth and affection. "Fine. You win today. But I’ll come for a rematch."

Noel leaned against him, both still wrapped in the quiet intimacy of morning—the light, the smell of coffee, and the promise of a day that felt more bearable just because they had each other.

The mug was barely half-finished when Noel nudged Luca’s shoulder again.

"Come on. You have to move."

Luca’s eyes stayed closed. His arm tightened around Noel’s waist. "I’m not going."

"It’s Monday."

"I don’t respect Monday."

Noel huffed a quiet laugh, leaning down until his lips brushed Luca’s ear. "You’re the Executive Director. You can’t just skip the week."

"Watch me."

Noel pulled back, studying him. "Luca."

"Mmh?"

"You smell like sleep."

Luca cracked one eye open. "That’s not a real smell."

"It is when you’ve been pressed into my pillow for eight hours."

Luca’s mouth twitched. "So you’re saying I belong in bed."

"I’m saying you need to shower."

Luca sighed dramatically, like he was being asked to climb a mountain. "Fine. But you’re coming with me."

Noel blinked. "Excuse me?"

Luca sat up slowly, his hair a mess, his eyes still soft. "Moral support."

"That is not what moral support means."

Luca reached for his hand anyway, tugging gently. "Please."

Noel stared at him for a long second, then rolled his eyes. "You’re impossible."

"I’m tired."

"You’re spoiled."

"And yet," Luca murmured, pulling him closer, "you keep indulging me."

Noel let out a quiet breath, but his fingers didn’t let go. "Come on, then."

The bathroom filled with steam quickly, warmth wrapping around them like a second skin.

Noel turned the water on, testing it with his wrist.

Luca leaned against the doorframe, watching him with quiet attention that made Noel feel oddly exposed even before the clothes came off.

"What?" Noel asked.

Luca’s gaze didn’t move. "You look domestic."

Noel snorted. "I’m literally just turning on water."

"And I’m in love with you doing it."

Noel paused, lips parting slightly. "Don’t say things like that before nine a.m."

"I’ll say them whenever I want," Luca replied, stepping closer.

Under the spray, Noel sighed softly, warmth washing over him.

Luca stepped in behind him, his hands settling at Noel’s waist.

For a moment, neither spoke. Just breath. Water. The quiet press of Luca’s forehead against Noel’s shoulder.

"You’re stalling," Noel murmured.

"I’m soaking in you," Luca corrected.

Noel’s laugh was small. "That’s not—"

"It is. I spend all day holding myself together. This is the only place I don’t have to."

Noel’s expression softened. He turned slightly, fingers sliding up Luca’s arm. "Then stay here for a minute."

Luca’s eyes lifted.

A beat.

Then he kissed Noel slowly, unhurried, like something sacred. Not desperate. Just certain.

When they finally pulled apart, Luca rested his nose against Noel’s cheek. "I really don’t want to leave."

"I know," Noel said gently. "But you will."

"And I’ll come back."

Noel nodded, brushing water from Luca’s brow. "You always do."

Afterward, Noel stood by the wardrobe, tie in hand, while Luca buttoned his shirt.

His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends.

Noel fixed the collar with practiced ease. "You’re going to be late."

"I blame you."

"For what?"

"For being warm."

Noel’s eyes flicked up. "That’s your excuse?"

"It’s my truth."

Noel shook his head, but his smile gave him away.

"There." He tightened the knot. "Go be unbearable in meetings."

Luca leaned down, kissing him once—quick, familiar. Then again, slower.

Noel’s fingers stayed curled in Luca’s tie. "Tonight."

"Tonight," Luca promised.

Only then did Luca finally step back, grab his coat, and head for the door.

Noel watched him leave, the apartment still holding the warmth of steam and quiet kisses.

Monday could have him.

But Luca would always come back.

The apartment didn’t feel empty. It just felt quieter.

Noel stood in the doorway for a moment after Luca left, his hand resting against the frame.

The faint click of the elevator downstairs faded away. Then there was nothing.

Just the hum of the fridge. The distant city. The soft, ordinary silence of being alone.

Noel exhaled slowly, turning back inside.

He didn’t rush. There was no reason to.

He padded into the kitchen, rinsed the mugs, and set them carefully in the drying rack. The movements were small, domestic, grounding. The kind of routine that made adulthood feel real.

On the counter, Luca’s tie clip sat forgotten.

Noel picked it up, turning it between his fingers. A quiet smile tugged at his mouth.

"Of course."

He set it beside Luca’s keys so it wouldn’t be left behind again.

Then he moved toward the desk.

His laptop blinked awake, the screen too bright in the soft morning.

Emails. A half-finished draft. A calendar reminder he didn’t want to look at yet.

Wednesday. Back to work. Back to schedules and meetings and pretending he wasn’t still adjusting to the fact that life had shifted.

College was over. No campus shortcuts anymore. No shared dorm noise. No messy group projects.

Just life.

Noel leaned back in the chair, staring at the cursor blinking patiently on the blank line.

It felt almost insulting, like the computer expected him to know exactly what he was doing.

He cracked his knuckles, opened the document anyway, and began to type.

Not quickly. Not perfectly.

But steadily. Sentence by sentence. Like building something from scratch.

Outside, the morning moved on without him.

By early afternoon, the apartment had warmed with sunlight.

Noel had changed into something simple—sweatpants, a clean shirt, hair still a little damp.

He stood by the window with a glass of water, watching people down on the street.

Someone was carrying groceries. A couple laughed over iced coffee. A man walked too fast, as if the world might collapse if he slowed down.

Noel watched them for a while, his expression unreadable.

Then he realized he’d been standing there too long.

He grabbed his phone, slipped on his shoes, and headed out.

Not because he needed anything.

Because staying inside too long made the walls feel closer.

The city in the afternoon felt different. Less rush. More rhythm.

Noel walked without a destination at first, his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed.

He passed a small bookstore he’d never noticed before and a bakery with the door propped open, warm air spilling out.

He paused. The smell hit him immediately—bread, sugar, something cinnamon-heavy.

It twisted his stomach with something that wasn’t quite hunger. Just memory. Just comfort.

Noel stepped inside.

The woman behind the counter smiled. "Hi. What can I get you?"

Noel blinked, surprised by the interaction. "Uh... just a coffee."

Then, after a beat, he added, "And one of those." He pointed at a pastry behind the glass.

The woman nodded. "Good choice. Almond croissant."

Noel nodded back, trying to appear confident.

He didn’t really know what he was doing. He was just trying.

He sat outside with the coffee carefully balanced between his hands.

The croissant flaked apart too easily. He ate slowly, watching the street.

There was something strangely intimate about being alone in public. No performance. No conversation. Just existing.

Noel checked his phone. A new message sat at the top.

Luca: Did you eat?

Noel stared at it. Then typed back:

Noel: I’m eating right now.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Luca: Without me?

Noel: You chose capitalism over me.

Luca: I chose rent.

Noel: Fair.

Then—

Luca: Send a picture.

Noel paused and rolled his eyes.

Still, he lifted the phone, snapped a quick photo of the coffee and pastry, and sent it.

A second later:

Luca: I hate that you look like someone in a lifestyle ad.

Noel blinked, then laughed softly to himself.

Noel: You’re the one who made me shower and become responsible.

Luca: I’m shaping you into a husband.

Noel froze, just slightly.

Not because it was too much. Because it was said so casually. So naturally. Like Luca didn’t even realize the weight of it.

Noel stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he replied:

Noel: Go do your job, Director.

Luca: Only because you told me to.

Noel shook his head, smiling quietly.

The city kept moving. But for a moment, he felt anchored.

When Noel finally stood to head home, the afternoon sun sat lower, a soft gold on the sidewalks.

He walked slower than before. Not lonely. Just living.

And maybe that was what adulthood really was. Not constant excitement. Not constant romance.

Just the steady comfort of knowing someone would come home to you later.