Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 92: The Gravity of Us

By the time they made their way back to the dorm, the sky had shifted deeper — navy turning black, stars stitched quietly above.

The lamps lining the path flickered gently as if blinking sleepily, and the windows of the dorm building glowed like warm squares of light against the dark.

Their hands stayed linked the entire walk back. Neither spoke much — they didn’t need to. Everything that mattered had already been said.

Luca opened the door first, stepping aside so Noel could enter.

Inside, the room was exactly as they’d left it — slightly messy, beds still unmade, a hoodie thrown across a chair, and the lingering scent of something soft and warm from earlier.

Noel toed off his shoes, moving to his side of the room, fingers brushing over his blanket as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Luca watched him for a second longer before moving toward the window, cracking it open just a little — letting in the quiet night air.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

Noel looked over his shoulder. "Yeah."

Luca hesitated. "Do you want me to... sleep in my bed tonight? Give you space?"

Noel blinked.

Then shook his head once, firm but soft.

"No."

He scooted back, lifting the blanket, the silent invitation clear.

Luca didn’t move right away. He just looked at him — the glow of the bedside lamp catching on Noel’s lashes, the way his hair still curled slightly from sleep, the gentleness in the way he waited.

Then Luca crossed the room, tugging off his jacket, leaving it draped on the chair. He climbed in beside Noel without a word.

Noel turned to him immediately, arm looping around Luca’s waist like instinct — like muscle memory — and tucked his face into his chest.

"You’re warm," he murmured.

"You’re clingy," Luca whispered back, amused.

"Deal with it," Noel mumbled.

Luca laughed, low and soft, fingers already stroking the back of Noel’s shirt, drawing slow circles.

"I plan to," he said.

They lay like that, tangled together in the quiet, the night folding gently around them. No tension. No fear. Just the hum of breathing, the warmth of closeness, and a soft comfort settling into their bones.

And as Noel drifted off — his head rising and falling with Luca’s breaths — he realized something:

This wasn’t just a moment.

It was the beginning of routines that felt like rituals. Mornings tangled in sheets, inside jokes whispered between bites of breakfast, the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, they had found something worth holding onto.

The morning sun had already begun to stream through the dorm window, gentle and golden, catching dust motes in the air like slow-moving glitter.

Noel was already up — hair still a bit rumpled, hoodie zipped up, hands full with a brown paper bag and two takeaway coffee cups.

He nudged the door open with his shoulder, quietly slipping back into the dorm.

He glanced at the clock.

Ten minutes. That’s all he’d been gone.

And yet—

Luca was still completely sprawled across the bed like a prince cursed to eternal sleep.

The blanket barely covered half of him, the rest twisted around his legs like a lazy boa. His arm was wrapped tightly around Noel’s pillow, face half-buried in it.

Noel chuckled under his breath, setting the food on the desk.

"Still asleep, huh?" he whispered, sipping from his cup.

Just then, Luca stirred.

He groaned softly, stretched like a cat, then blinked at the ceiling with the dazed confusion of someone trying to remember what planet they were on.

Then—

THUMP.

He rolled too far.

With a loud, absolutely undignified thud, Luca tumbled off the bed and landed on the floor in a heap of blanket, limbs, and one tragically abused pillow.

Noel startled, coffee cup jerking mid-air. "Luca?!"

Luca didn’t move at first.

Then came a quiet, muffled voice from the floor.

"...Ow."

Noel tried—tried—to hold in his laughter, but failed entirely. He bent over, nearly wheezing, gripping the back of his chair.

"Oh my god—are you—? Did you seriously just fall off the bed?"

Luca groaned louder, dragging the pillow over his face. "I was trying to sit up. Gravity betrayed me."

"Gravity has a personal vendetta now?"

"Yes. Specifically against me."

Noel walked over, crouched beside him. "Should I call emergency services or just get a mop to clean up all that drama?"

Luca peeked at him from beneath the pillow, eyes narrowed. "You think you’re funny, huh?"

"I know I’m funny."

"You left me unsupervised."

"For ten minutes."

"That was ten minutes too long."

Luca reached up as Noel crouched beside him. "You better not be laughing at me."

Noel offered his hand. "I’m laughing near you. There’s a difference."

As Noel pulled him up, Luca stumbled slightly, falling chest-first into him.

For a second, neither moved—Luca’s arms loosely around Noel’s middle, Noel’s hands catching his shoulders.

"You okay?" Noel asked, the smile softening.

Luca nodded. "Yeah. Just wanted a dramatic way to get your attention."

"Mission accomplished," Noel whispered, brushing his knuckles along Luca’s jaw before stepping back.

"Come on, drama queen. I brought breakfast."

Luca blinked. "You... went out?"

"Just down the street," Noel said, guiding him back toward the bed. "There’s that tiny bakery you always say smells like heaven."

Luca sat on the edge of the mattress now, hair a complete mess, eyes soft. "You bought me breakfast?"

"Mm-hmm." Noel handed him the warm sandwich bag. "And coffee. Because I know you’re unbearable without it."

Luca stared at him for a second.

Then smiled.

A slow, sleepy, real smile that made Noel’s heart do stupid things in his chest.

"You’re kind of perfect," Luca muttered, unwrapping his sandwich.

"And you’re kind of dramatic."

"And you love it."

Noel grinned as he sat beside him. "I really do."

They clinked their coffee cups together like a quiet toast and leaned into each other, eating breakfast on the edge of the bed — wrapped in warmth, soft sunlight, and the sweetness of finally, finally belonging.

As Luca bit into the warm sandwich, a thought surfaced — hazy but vivid.

Their first week in the dorm. He barely knew how to talk to Noel, let alone wake up beside him. They’d slept on opposite sides of the room like strangers sharing a border.

Now? He was tangled in Noel’s hoodie and still had crumbs on his chest.

Funny, he thought. How home sneaks up on you.

The air inside the dorm was still warm from the morning light, soft and slow like honey dripping from a spoon.

Noel sat cross-legged on his bed, half-finished coffee beside him, one hand absently scrolling his phone.

And on his lap, sprawled like a lazy cat?

Luca.

His head was resting across Noel’s thighs, hair tousled, eyes half-closed, as if moving would be an unforgivable offense against comfort itself.

Noel’s fingers idly traced along Luca’s temple, brushing strands away from his cheek.

"You know," Noel murmured, "we should probably clean this place."

Luca groaned. "You say that like you’re not the one I caught throwing your socks under the bed."

"They were your socks."

"Lies," Luca muttered, nuzzling further into Noel’s lap. "Slander. I’d never disrespect socks like that."

Noel rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his expression betrayed him.

He leaned down slightly, letting his voice drop close to Luca’s ear. "Your desk looks like it’s been looted."

"Creative chaos," Luca mumbled.

"There’s a mystery T-shirt draped on my chair."

"It’s studying."

"And I found an energy bar wrapper in my chem textbook."

"That sounds like your fault, babe."

Noel blinked. "I don’t eat energy bars."

Luca stilled for a beat.

Then cracked one eye open. "...Plot twist."

Noel snorted, playfully flicking his forehead. "Up. You’re helping."

Luca groaned dramatically, but sat up with exaggerated effort. "You know I nearly died this morning falling off that bed. And now you want me to clean?"

"You didn’t die. You tripped on air and bruised your ego."

"Still counts as trauma."

Noel stood, stretching with a yawn. "You’ll survive. Come on — let’s start with your desk. If I step on one more pen cap I’m calling campus security."

"Fine," Luca muttered, rising to his feet and rubbing his eyes. "But only because you bought me breakfast."

They started slow — pulling blankets off beds, gathering up laundry in the corner, tossing abandoned mugs onto the desk.

Noel folded clothes methodically. Luca tried, got distracted, then just tossed his hoodie across the back of his chair and called it a day.

At one point, they bumped into each other near the closet — both reaching for the same storage bin.

Noel looked up.

Luca looked down.

Their faces paused inches apart.

Luca smirked. "You trying to kiss me or clean with me?"

Noel shoved the bin into his chest. "Focus."

But his cheeks were pink.

And Luca was definitely grinning as he backed away.

Noel paused mid-fold, holding one of Luca’s shirts — the old one with faded letters from a concert they never went to together.

He smiled faintly, running his thumb along the worn collar.

"What?" Luca asked, looking up.

"Nothing," Noel said. "Just thinking how weirdly normal this feels."

"Normal’s good," Luca replied. "Normal with you? Feels like magic."

By the time the room was back in order — beds made, books stacked, windows cracked for fresh air — Noel collapsed onto the freshly smoothed sheets with a sigh.

Luca flopped next to him, arms behind his head.

"Clean room," he said proudly.

"Still smells like your cologne."

"Exactly. You’re welcome."

Noel rolled his eyes and turned toward him.

"Thanks for helping."

"Anytime," Luca said softly, turning to meet his gaze. "Especially if I get to do it with you."

From outside, the muffled sounds of campus carried in — distant laughter, the soft strum of a guitar.

Noel leaned into Luca, shoulder pressing against his.

"Let’s waste the rest of the day," he murmured.

Luca closed his eyes. "As long as it’s with you."

Their fingers brushed again.

Noel smiled.

Weekend, officially: in session.

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