Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 105: Before the World Wakes

Chapter 105: Before the World Wakes

The light crept in slow — filtered through half-drawn curtains, catching in soft streaks across tangled sheets and scattered clothes.

The air in the room was still, heavy with sleep and something sweeter.

Emily stirred first.

Not from the light — but from the weight of a body pressed lightly against hers.

Lina.

Still curled on her side, hair fanned across the pillow, one arm draped across Emily’s stomach. Her breathing was deep, slow. Peaceful.

Emily lay there for a moment, still and quiet, eyes tracing the gentle slope of Lina’s nose, the flutter of her lashes.

Her lips curved slightly at the corners, even in sleep — like the ghost of a dream lingered.

She brushed her fingers carefully along Lina’s forearm, her touch barely there.

A soft hum left Lina’s throat. "You’re staring," she murmured, eyes still shut.

Emily smiled. "Can you blame me?"

Lina cracked one eye open, hazy with sleep, voice low and scratchy. "You’re not exactly subtle."

"I didn’t know I had to be," Emily whispered, leaning closer. "You’re in my arms."

"Am I?" Lina blinked again, slowly surfacing. "That’s suspiciously soft of me."

Emily laughed gently, brushing her lips against Lina’s cheek. "Yeah, well. You were dangerously soft last night too."

"Mmh," Lina buried her face in Emily’s neck. "Don’t remind me. I’m trying to keep my mysterious edge."

"You lost that the second you cuddled me like a koala."

Lina paused. "I was cold."

Emily grinned, running her hand through Lina’s hair. "You were warm. You still are."

They lay like that for a while — no rush, no words. Just soft breathing, the shift of a blanket, and sunlight warming the edge of the bed.

Eventually, Lina muttered, "What time is it?"

Emily tilted her head to check the tiny digital clock on the desk. "Not even eight."

"Good," Lina mumbled, pulling the blanket up higher. "I plan to stay like this."

"Forever?"

"Minimum, two hours."

"That works for me," Emily murmured, kissing Lina’s shoulder.

There was something sacred about mornings like this — when the world hadn’t fully arrived yet. When hearts were bare, and honesty slipped easier between kisses and quiet glances.

And in that hush, wrapped in each other, neither of them needed to say it aloud:

Something real had started here.

The room had sharpened a little — no longer dreamlike, but not yet rushed.

Emily sat cross-legged on the bed, hair slightly tousled, wearing one of Lina’s oversized shirts. She was peeling an orange from the little stash they picked up the other day.

Lina shuffled over from the kitchenette, balancing two mugs of tea.

"I didn’t have coffee," she said, setting one down.

"That’s okay." Emily took a sip, winced a little. "This is—strong."

Lina smirked. "It’s good for your heart."

"You’re already doing enough damage to that."

Lina chuckled, sitting down beside her. "You’re not supposed to flirt before breakfast."

Emily handed her a slice of orange. "Then stop being this pretty."

They ate in small bites, shoulders brushing now and then. Nothing loud. Just quiet smiles. A few crumbs on the blanket. The sound of spoons tapping against mugs.

Lina glanced sideways. "So... this is a thing now, right?"

Emily paused, lips quirking. "Us?"

Lina nodded.

"Feels like it," Emily said, her fingers grazing Lina’s knee. "And I’m not scared of it."

Lina looked down at her mug. "That doesn’t scare you?"

Emily touched her fingers. "It used to. Not now."

A soft breath. Relief, maybe. Maybe more.

Then: "What time’s your class?"

"Nine-thirty," Emily said, checking her phone.

"Still early."

"Exactly," Emily said, setting her mug down and scooting closer. "So unless you’re kicking me out—"

"I’m not," Lina cut in before she could finish.

"Good." Emily leaned in, rested her forehead gently against Lina’s. "Let’s just stay like this a little longer."

And they did.

Meanwhile in the other dorm The curtain wasn’t drawn all the way. A soft beam of light cut across the bed, warming the edge of the blanket.

Noel stirred first, eyes half-open. He didn’t move for a while, just listened — the soft hum of morning outside, a bird or two, the faint sound of water pipes down the hall.

Beside him, Luca was still asleep.

One arm flung across the pillow, hair in soft disarray, breathing slow and even. His lips were parted just slightly.

Noel didn’t wake him.

Instead, he eased out of bed, careful not to shift the mattress too much. He pulled on a hoodie, quietly brushed his teeth, and padded out to the small kitchenette to fix something light.

Just toast and coffee.

By the time he came back, Luca had rolled over, hugging the pillow like he missed something.

Noel placed the mug beside the bed.

"Hey," he said gently.

Luca blinked slowly, squinting at him.

"Mmh—what time is it?"

"Almost eight."

Luca groaned, dragging the blanket over his face. "Why does it exist..."

Noel smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I made you toast."

A hand shot out from under the blanket. "I take it back. Mornings are okay."

He pulled the blanket down, hair everywhere, then noticed the coffee. "You even brought the good mug."

"I’m not a monster."

Luca reached up, tugging Noel down into a lazy hug. "You kind of are. Making me love you this early."

Noel laughed into his shoulder, warm and easy. "Go brush. We’ve got class."

"Ugh. Responsibilities."

"But toast first."

"Fine," Luca said, sitting up, eyes still heavy with sleep. "But only because you bribed me."

Noel handed him the plate. "Good boy."

Luca narrowed his eyes. "I’m too sleepy to be offended."

And just like that, the morning moved — soft and slow and full of little things that mattered more than either of them said out loud.

Luca sat cross-legged on the bed, the plate of toast balanced carefully on his lap. He was still shirtless, hair a gentle mess, eyes not fully awake but trying.

Noel leaned against the desk, coffee in hand, watching him.

"Why are you staring," Luca muttered, chewing slowly. "You trying to memorize me?"

Noel’s lips curled slightly. "I already did."

Luca glanced up, a corner of toast between his fingers. "You’re such a liar in the morning."

"I’m always a liar," Noel said, sipping. "But only when I say I don’t like how you look when you’re half-asleep and shirtless."

Luca smirked but didn’t respond. He went back to eating, slower now.

Noel didn’t move.

He liked the hush of the room — how the light painted Luca’s shoulders gold, how his lashes dipped over soft eyes.

It was peaceful in a way that didn’t demand attention. It just... was.

Luca finished one slice, licking a crumb off his thumb.

"You’re still staring."

"Can’t help it."

Luca looked at him then — really looked. "You’ve got that look again."

"What look?"

"Like you love me."

Noel blinked.

Then lowered his eyes to his cup. "Maybe I do."

Luca’s throat worked as he swallowed. "...You didn’t even try to make it sound casual."

Noel shrugged. "Didn’t want to."

Silence stretched between them — not heavy, just full. Luca reached for the second slice.

"Okay," he said, voice soft. "But next time you confess something like that, warn me first. I nearly choked."

Noel’s laugh cracked the quiet.

"Duly noted."

They sat in it a while longer — warmth, crumbs, and soft hearts — until Luca finally nudged the empty plate toward the desk and sighed.

"I guess I should get ready."

"Yeah."

Neither moved right away.

Luca finally swung his legs off the bed, stretching his arms high above his head with a groan. "Ugh. I feel like I only slept for five minutes."

"You slept almost ten hours."

Luca scratched his neck, blinking toward the window. "Then why do I feel like a ghost?"

Noel smirked from where he was rinsing out their mugs at the tiny sink. "Maybe because you keep skipping proper bedtime and crawling all over me at 1 a.m."

"I like crawling all over you," Luca said, grabbing his toothbrush and wandering to the bathroom.

"I noticed," Noel called after him.

The sound of running water followed. A few moments later, Luca returned, towel over his shoulder, rubbing damp fingers through his hair.

Noel was already pulling on his sweater, neatly folding his spare notes into his bag. Luca glanced at the clock.

"We still have time?"

"Yeah," Noel said, tossing him a clean shirt. "But don’t take forever choosing a hoodie. You always do."

Luca caught it. "That’s because the hoodie sets the mood."

"Oh, I see," Noel teased. "So what are you today? Mysterious boyfriend? Flirty menace? Sleepy baby?"

"Sleepy menace," Luca said, pulling it on over his head.

They both laughed, and it echoed gently in the space between them — familiar, full.

Noel stepped closer, reaching to fix the uneven collar on Luca’s hoodie. His hands lingered just a second longer than necessary.

"There," he said, voice soft.

Luca didn’t say anything. Just stood there, looking at him.

Then: "Let’s go."

Noel nodded, shouldering his bag. Luca grabbed his phone, keys, and a crumpled granola bar for backup.

As they stepped out into the hall, side by side, their fingers brushed — and for a few seconds, neither of them moved away.

Just a brush of fingers — almost nothing, yet somehow everything.