Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 106: Lecture Hall of Doom

Chapter 106: Lecture Hall of Doom

The air outside was crisp — not cold, just enough to make Noel pull his sleeves over his wrists as they strolled side by side down the main path.

Luca walked with one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other dangling loosely between them, brushing against Noel’s occasionally but never quite holding it.

"You know," Luca said, "if you want to hold my hand, you can just ask."

Noel raised a brow. "Bold of you to assume I want to."

"You keep bumping it," Luca smirked. "You’re practically flirting."

"I’m not flirting," Noel muttered.

Luca leaned in, whispering near his ear, "You’re blushing."

"I am not—" Noel cut himself off because yes, he was.

They rounded the corner onto the central quad, and just ahead, two figures came into view.

Emily was easy to spot — standing confidently near one of the benches, waving the moment she caught sight of them.

Beside her stood Lina, hands tucked behind her back, shoulders a little rounded like she didn’t quite know what to do with all the attention Emily was giving her.

Emily grinned, almost bouncing. "Look what the wind dragged in."

"Good morning to you too," Noel said dryly.

Luca, on the other hand, smiled wide. "Aren’t you two looking suspiciously happy?"

Emily nudged Lina gently. "She didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, but I bribed her with breakfast."

Lina glanced down, shy but smiling. "She threatened to make it herself."

"See?" Emily beamed. "Effective."

Luca leaned toward Noel and whispered, "I give them two weeks before Lina starts cooking out of self-defense."

Noel chuckled under his breath.

Lina eventually straightened her bag and glanced between them. "I should go. I’ve got a class in ten."

"Walk you?" Emily offered instantly.

Lina hesitated. "You’ve got yours too..."

Emily just waved it off. "I’ll make it. Come on."

As the two girls turned toward the path that led to the arts faculty, Emily gave a wink over her shoulder. "Don’t miss me too much."

Luca called back, "We’ll try."

Noel watched them go — how Lina’s steps grew steadier beside Emily, how their hands eventually brushed, then tangled quietly together.

Then he turned toward the lecture hall.

Luca was already walking backwards, grinning. "Let’s go, Mr. Study-Focus. You’ve got notes to ignore and a boyfriend to distract you."

"You’re the one who gets distracted," Noel said, following.

"I know," Luca smirked. "But it’s more fun when you pretend to care."

And just like that — they moved forward again. Into the hallway, into the crowd, into another day.

The room was full but quiet — the kind of silence that didn’t come from respect, but pure survival.

Professor Kessler stood at the front, her shoulders straight, her glasses low on her nose, the projector humming behind her like it, too, feared being scolded.

Noel sat between George and Luca, slouched but pretending to take notes. His pen scribbled aimlessly in the margin: a crooked star, a box, a messy spiral.

"Now," Professor Kessler’s voice rang sharp as glass, "if you think the exam will make exceptions for laziness, you’re in the wrong building."

George muttered, "What’s wrong with a little mercy?"

"She doesn’t believe in it," Noel whispered back.

Luca leaned closer, eyes half-lidded. "I think she feeds off the sound of our souls dying."

Professor Kessler continued without mercy, her tone never rising, never softening. "Theories must be memorized. Application must be understood. Excuses are irrelevant."

George yawned and half-hid behind his laptop.

Luca whispered again, "Is it possible to fall into a coma with your eyes open?"

Noel didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. Kessler had the kind of radar that could sense a smirk at the back of a stadium.

She clicked to the next slide.

More text. No images. No breathing room. Just words stacked like punishment.

"I swear," George whispered, "if she adds one more bullet point—"

"She will," Luca said darkly.

And she did.

The entire room collectively sighed, but only internally. Out loud would be suicide.

Noel shifted in his seat, eyes barely tracking the text on screen.The room felt like a vacuum — even time seemed afraid to move.

Just when Noel thought it couldn’t stretch any thinner, Kessler turned, arms crossed. "I’ll now ask a question. Don’t raise your hand unless you fully know the answer. Guessing will not be tolerated."

George immediately ducked lower in his seat, eyes wide, mouthing a silent nope.

Luca sat straighter, but his hand crept under the desk—Noel felt his fingers curl gently around his, a soft squeeze like some silent we got this.

Noel didn’t look at him. He didn’t dare.

Professor Kessler’s eyes swept the lecture hall like searchlights. Hunting. "You—" she pointed, sharp and sudden, "—explain the principle behind the dual-code theory."

The student she picked blinked like he’d been shot.

He stammered, "Uh... is it... the... um..."

"Sit down," she snapped before he even stood. "If you don’t know, don’t raise your ass."

The room froze again.

George mouthed, this is war, and looked one second away from crawling under the desk entirely.

Noel kept still, Luca’s hand grounding him. His heart thudded somewhere near his throat.

Kessler scanned again.

Another student. Another shot fired. "You. The difference between declarative and procedural memory?"

A pause. Then a shaky voice answered, "Declarative memory is... factual, and procedural is... doing things?"

Kessler narrowed her eyes like she wanted to pounce. "...Barely passable," she muttered. "I expect textbook definitions, not vague guesses."

She turned back to the board and began scribbling again. Just like that.

Tension released like an uncoiled spring. Shoulders dropped. Breaths were exhaled. A wave of silent relief passed over the room.

Under the desk, Luca gently let go of Noel’s hand—but not before brushing his thumb across the back of it.

Noel blinked at the board, pretending to copy notes, but his hand still tingled.

It was only 9:07.

The heavy door clicked shut behind them. No one spoke for a second.

Then George dramatically gasped like he’d just surfaced from drowning. "Air. Real air. I missed you, baby."

Noel laughed under his breath, adjusting his bag. "You’re so dramatic."

"I was dying," George said, pointing toward the lecture hall. "She murdered me slowly with Helvetica font."

Luca rubbed his face and stretched like he hadn’t moved in days. "I aged during that class."

"Did you see her eyes when that guy yawned in the third row?" Noel said, glancing over his shoulder like Kessler might still be watching.

"Laser beams," Luca replied. "Instant regret."

George gestured as if reading from a textbook: "Professor Kessler’s Law of Classroom Terror: Any sign of life shall be punished with a quiz."

They all chuckled, tension melting away with each step down the corridor.

A pair of students passed by them, whispering about how they barely understood a word of the lecture.

"I swear," Luca said, "Kessler teaches like she’s trying to weed us out."

"She is," Noel replied. "And she’s succeeding."

George mock-shuddered. "I need a coffee just to recover from the emotional damage."

"Same," Luca nodded. Then he glanced at Noel. "You coming?"

"Yeah," Noel said, smiling a little. "I could use something warm."

They turned the corner, and sunlight poured through the tall windows. The campus looked normal again. Peaceful. Alive.

Free.

They filed out into the warm midday air. Luca stretched both arms high above his head, shirt riding just enough for Noel to avert his eyes.

Emily joined them near the steps, already sipping something iced. "Guess who skipped that hell and still passed her quiz online?"

"Must be nice to be the favorite," George grumbled.

Emily winked. "I make myself the favorite.Come on, let’s walk. I’m starving."

The group strolled toward the café strip, where the campus sidewalks curved beneath leafy trees.

It always amazed Noel how quickly the world outside the lecture hall felt lighter — like shaking off a nightmare you didn’t know you were holding.

Students lounged on benches, sprawled on the grass, or huddled around café tables with iced drinks and thick books open but ignored.

Luca nudged Noel. "Still breathing?"

"Barely."

"You crushed it," he said, bumping shoulders. "Didn’t even flinch."

"I couldn’t flinch. I was dead inside."

George walked backward in front of them, arms wide. "Café rules: whoever survived gets to choose first."

"Survived?" Emily asked, raising a brow.

"You weren’t there. Kessler was in mid-warlock mode."

"I could hear her from the hallway."

They laughed, soft and loose now. The café door chimed as they stepped inside, the cool air kissing their flushed faces.

The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and something fried wrapped around them like a hug.

"Same table?" Noel asked.

"Always," Luca said.

They slipped into their usual spot near the window. George immediately sprawled. Emily claimed the seat beside him, tossing her phone on the table.

Luca tapped the back of Noel’s hand. "You want the usual?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Noel’s voice came quieter, still soft from the earlier tension.

As Luca walked off to order, Noel watched him go—He walked with easy strides, but fatigue clung to his shoulders.

The sun caught on his hair as he leaned toward the counter.

Beside him, Emily leaned in, elbow on the table. "You’re looking at him like he’s coffee and you haven’t slept in days."

Noel blinked. "I—what?"

"Nothing," she grinned. "Just an observation."