Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 109: Late But Together

Chapter 109: Late But Together

Morning filtered through the thin curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room.

The air was still, gently warm, touched by the hum of campus life beginning outside.

Noel stirred first, disoriented until the soft rise and fall beside him grounded him again.

Luca.

Still curled close, still asleep, his hair messy, lips parted just slightly. His hand, somehow, was still lightly tangled with Noel’s.

Noel blinked at the ceiling, the events of the night trickling back like sunlight through mist.

Study session. Instant noodles. Quiet. Blanket. And this.

He should move. Say something. Anything.

Instead, he looked down at Luca again.

"You’re gonna drool on my shirt." Noel’s voice was low, teasing.

Luca mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, then shifted—and just like that, his eyes cracked open.

"...what time is it?" Luca’s voice was husky with sleep.

"Past eight," Noel replied, though he hadn’t checked. "You fell asleep."

Luca yawned and rubbed his eyes. "You too. I think. Kinda."

"Only a bit," Noel said, letting go of Luca’s hand casually, stretching as if it never happened.

But his heart beat a little faster.

Luca blinked again, then looked at the mess of papers on the floor. "Did we... actually study?"

"A little. You fell asleep in the middle of your own sentence."

"That bad, huh?" Luca grinned sleepily, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. You should’ve shoved me off."

"I was going to," Noel said, getting up and heading to the sink, "but then you looked like you might bite."

Luca laughed, low and scratchy. "Probably."

As Noel splashed water on his face, Luca stayed on the bed a moment longer, staring at the ceiling, that faint smile still hanging at the edge of his lips.

He didn’t say it aloud, but there was something about waking up like this—beside Noel, sunlight spilling in, no rush, no noise—that felt oddly... right.

The soft rustling of bedsheets and zippers broke the quiet hum of the dorm room.

Morning light spilled gently through the curtains, washing the room in a muted gold.

Later, it slid across Noel’s side of the dorm like a quiet reminder the day had already begun.

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar with a quiet sigh.

"Do I look like someone who’s about to pass their exam?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Luca chuckled softly from his bed, still pulling on his sneakers. "You look like someone who’s about to get yelled at by Emily."

Noel glanced at the time on his phone. 8:03.

"...She said eight sharp," he muttered, grabbing his file and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

"Well," Luca grinned, standing up and brushing off his jeans, "at least we’re fashionably late together."

By the time they’d dressed and slipped into the rhythm of the morning, campus life had begun to stir in earnest.

Shoes on pavement, distant laughter, the scent of coffee — the day awaited them.

A few scattered students walked past, some with coffee, others with sleepy eyes and untamed hair.

The sky was soft and blue, cloudless, promising heat later.

As they reached the open campus walkways, Emily came into view—arms crossed, lips pursed, one foot tapping a silent rhythm of judgment.

"You’re late," she said the moment they were close enough to hear.

"Only by a few minutes," Noel offered, sheepish.

Emily shot him a look. "You mean ten. And George isn’t even here yet. I said eight. It’s almost nine."

Luca raised his hands in surrender. "We’re here now. And we didn’t forget."

"No. You just ignored me," she deadpanned.

Before anyone could reply, a hurried thudding of footsteps came from behind.

George stumbled into view, hair tousled, backpack slipping off one shoulder.

"I’m here, I’m here—I swear, I woke up on time, but my alarm—"

"You always say that," Emily snapped, arms flailing in exaggerated disbelief. "You have more excuses than my cousin has wigs."

George grinned sheepishly. "Is that even possible?"

"You haven’t met her."

The tension dissolved with quiet laughter, and the four of them started walking across campus, their footsteps light, chatter floating between them like familiar wind.

"So," Luca said, bumping George lightly with his shoulder, "what’s the punishment for being the last one?"

George groaned. "Don’t give her ideas."

Emily smirked. "Too late."

The path split as they reached the academic blocks, the buildings rising like quiet monuments in the morning hush.

Noel slowed to a stop near a sign that read Block C – International Business.

"This is me," he said, adjusting his strap.

"You sure you don’t want to defect to Business Studies?" Luca teased.

"Tempting," Noel replied, giving a two-finger salute, "but I’ve already sold my soul."

"We’ll meet after stamps," Emily said, softer now.

He nodded, offering a small smile, then turned and disappeared down the corridor.

The remaining three continued toward their department office, still wrapped in morning haze and soft voices.

The day had begun—paperwork awaited, the bursary line would be long, but for now, they moved together like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Block C felt quieter. Less chatter, more focus. The walls were lined with department flyers, half-faded motivational quotes, and a student council poster that hadn’t been updated since last semester.

The scent of paper, ink, and distant air-conditioning clung to the corridor like a second skin.

Noel stepped inside, his foam placement form neatly folded in his hand.

His bag bumped lightly against his hip as he made his way down the hallway, nodding at a familiar face or two.

A girl in glasses brushed past him, earbuds in, murmuring to herself.

Another guy leaned on the wall, skimming something on his phone with dead eyes — probably assignment results.

Noel paused just outside the office door. A plastic sign read:

As Noel waited in the queue, his thumb traced the corner of his placement form — but it wasn’t the paper he felt.

It was Luca’s fingers from earlier, lingering in memory like warmth.

INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS ADMIN OFFICE Stamping & Document Verification – 8:00AM to 11:30AM

He inhaled, then stepped in.

Inside, the room buzzed quietly with low voices and the occasional shuffle of papers.

A ceiling fan clicked above them, rhythm steady and hypnotic.

The receptionist — a woman in a navy hijab with gold pins — sat behind the front desk, flipping through forms.

Noel moved forward, waiting his turn in the short queue. A few students ahead of him chatted in hushed tones.

"Bro, did you attach your bursary form already?"

"Yeah, but they told me to get this stamped first—twice."

Noel checked his paper again, tracing his thumb over the thin signature line like it would calm his nerves.

He glanced sideways. One of the notice boards was cluttered with internship announcements, warnings about plagiarism, and someone’s lost calculator plea.

"Next," the woman at the desk called.

Noel stepped forward. "Good morning, ma."

She barely glanced up. "Form?"

He handed it over carefully.

She scanned it, then reached for a nearby stamp pad. "You’re placement with... Those?"

"Yes, ma," Noel replied.

A swift thump-thump of the stamp echoed through the office.

"Your manager’s signature isn’t here."

"Oh—he signed on the back," Noel said quickly, flipping it around to show her.

She squinted, nodded once, then placed a final stamp. Her hand scribbled a confirmation note beside it.

"Done. Submit this at the bursary before one. Next!"

Noel took the form gently, almost like it was a certificate. "Thank you, ma."

She didn’t answer — already looking at the next student.

Stepping back into the corridor, he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

The paper was warm from her stamp pad, and the nerves he’d carried from the dorm now melted into something lighter — relief.

He checked his phone.

8:47AM.

They’d probably just be finishing up on their end. He smiled faintly, already heading toward the meeting point.

"Why is this place always hotter than the rest of the campus?" George muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt as they stepped into the Business Studies department office.

Emily shot him a look. "Maybe it’s punishing you for being late."

He gave her a wounded expression. "You’re never letting that go, are you?"

"Nope."

The air inside the office was thick with paper, heat, and patience wearing thin. Not loud—but stifled, like everyone was waiting to exhale.

A dozen students stood around with papers in hand, some pressed to the glass window where two admin staff sat behind a wide counter, working through a pile of forms.

An old ceiling fan creaked above, its rhythm out of sync with everything else.

Emily folded her arms. "Ugh. Why is it always like this?"

Luca craned his neck to read a taped notice. "’Please queue quietly and wait for your name to be called’... doesn’t seem like anyone read that."

A student near them sighed dramatically. "I’ve been here since 8:10. They said the man who’s supposed to sign left to get breakfast."

George blinked. "Wait, the only guy who can sign left for food?"

"I mean... can you blame him?" Luca whispered. "I’d leave too."

Emily rolled her eyes and reached into her folder, double-checking her placement form. Her thumb ran over the printed lines, smoothing out a slight crinkle. "I swear if they reject this because of a staple position again..."

"They did that last semester," George said, trying not to laugh. "You argued for like five minutes."

"I was right. That staple was neat."

Before long, their names were called one by one. Emily went first, stepping up with that calm-but-firm posture she always had when dealing with admin people.

A short exchange followed, a few nods, a signature, a stamp — then she stepped back, triumphant.

"Told you it was neat," she said, waving the paper at them.

George went next, holding his form like it might bite him. "Wish me luck."

"Godspeed," Luca said, half-saluting.

He returned a few minutes later with the expression of someone who just survived a minor war. "She said my handwriting looks like a doctor’s."

Emily grinned. "That’s not a compliment."

Lastly, Luca stepped up, his smile charming and polite. He handed his form over with both hands.

"Mmm," the admin lady hummed as she scanned the page. "Your manager signed in blue ink?"

"Is that... okay?" Luca asked, eyes darting to Emily behind him.

She gave him a thumbs-up, mouthing It’s fine.

The woman stamped it anyway, and Luca gave her a sunshine smile. "Thank you, ma."

Outside the office, they gathered near the corridor railings. The buzz of students drifted around them. Emily tucked her stamped form safely into her file and exhaled.

"Well," she said, "we survived. Shall we go find Noel?"

"Lead the way, Commander," George said, already walking.

They headed down the corridor, their bags bouncing lightly at their sides.

The sun was higher now, brighter, and the day was just beginning — but the hardest part of the morning was done.