Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 110: Stamp of Survival”

Chapter 110: Stamp of Survival”

Noel stepped out into the morning sun again, his stamped foam form folded neatly and tucked under his arm.

The campus had come alive since he entered Block C — more students scattered the walkways now, some rushing, others strolling like time didn’t exist.

He headed toward their usual meeting spot near the wide stone bench under the jacaranda tree — where the three always waited when one of them had a different department.

His eyes caught movement up ahead. A familiar figure waving.

Emily.

She was the first to spot him, one hand raised, the other gripping her folder tight.

Luca and George trailed beside her, mid-conversation, laughing about something Noel couldn’t quite hear yet.

"There he is!" George called, lifting his hand dramatically like Noel had just returned from war.

Noel smirked as they reached him. "You make it sound like I was gone for an hour."

"Well," Luca said, eyes twinkling, "some of us faced life-threatening stapler placement trauma."

Emily held up her form. "And survived."

Noel gave her a mock salute. "Proud of you, commander."

She grinned, but her voice softened. "Did they give you any trouble?"

"Not really," he said. "One stamp almost got delayed because the signature was on the back, but... we made it."

They all stood there for a moment, sunlight dappled between the leaves above, a breeze brushing the edges of their shirts.

"Alright," Luca said, stretching. "To the bursary?"

Emily nodded. "Before it gets packed."

George groaned. "It’s already packed. I saw the line from upstairs—some guy even brought breakfast like he’s settling in for a concert."

"We’ll get through," Emily said with a grin. "As long as none of you mess up again."

"Again?" George gasped, hand on chest.

Noel laughed under his breath, adjusting his strap as they began walking, steps in sync.

There was something nice about it — the way they moved together. No rush now. Just four students, forms in hand, heading off to the next chaos.

The campus buzzed around them, but within their little group, everything felt steady. Comfortable. Like the morning, despite all its small disasters, had gone just right.

By the time they rounded the last corner and approached the bursary building, the crowd was impossible to miss.

A wave of students spilled out from the entrance, forming an uneven, snaking line that curled past the shaded walkway and halfway across the lawn.

Some stood with arms crossed, others fanned themselves with documents. A few had clearly been there a while — leaning on rails, heads tilted back, the slow surrender of patience in full display.

George came to a halt first. "Oh... no."

Luca whistled low. "Is this... one line or two?"

Emily squinted. "I think it’s one. Just very, very... bendy."

Noel stepped up beside her. "You’d think we were queuing for concert tickets, not a bursary stamp."

Up ahead, a student called out to no one in particular, "If you’re not in line, join from the back! Stop jumping!"

Someone else replied, "This is the back!"

They all exchanged glances.

George sighed dramatically, flipping open his file like a surrender flag. "And here I thought I’d have lunch today."

"Lunch is a state of mind," Luca replied, stepping into the line with a lazy shrug. "Misery loves company."

Emily pulled her phone out, checking the time. "9:12. If this moves slowly, we’re here till ten-thirty."

Noel eyed the chaos. "Maybe longer. That lady at the counter is still explaining the same thing to that boy from five minutes ago."

As they settled into place near the end of the line, the sun peeked further over the rooftops, warming their shoulders.

The stone underfoot reflected heat, and a few students were already using their files as makeshift shields.

Behind them, another student joined the line with a muttered, "God help us all."

George turned slowly, smirked. "He’s gonna need a megaphone and divine backup."

Luca tilted his head toward a group near the front. "Someone brought food."

Noel raised a brow. "That’s... actually smart."

Emily leaned back slightly. "If we’re still here in thirty minutes, I’m calling for delivery."

"Make it two," George said, raising his hand like he was ordering at a restaurant.

And so they stood — forms clutched, shoulders bumping, soft laughter weaving through the tired air.

The queue crept forward like a bored caterpillar.

But even in the slow drag of bureaucracy, with sweat on their brows and complaints bubbling all around, there was something oddly comforting about waiting together.

The line dragged on. One sluggish shuffle at a time.

The sun rose higher, chasing off the last of the morning chill, heat settling gently across their shoulders.

Students around them leaned, sighed, shifted their weight. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped defiantly — possibly mocking them.

"Alright," Luca whispered, stretching his arms, "we’ve moved... what? Five steps?"

George checked the stone tiles beneath them. "Four and a half. I counted."

Emily rubbed her temples. "If someone faints, I swear, I’m cutting."

A chuckle escaped Noel. "We’re almost there, though. Look—just two more people ahead."

And sure enough, the bursary counter was finally within reach — a small square of fluorescent-lit space behind a glass pane, where a stern-looking staff woman sat, head lowered, her hands already flipping through another form.

The guy ahead of them stepped up nervously. "Good morning, ma."

"Form?" she asked without looking.

He handed it over.

A pause.

"This is... a course registration form," she said flatly.

"What—no! I—I gave you the placement form—" the boy stammered, patting down his folder with increasing panic. "Oh no no no—wait, it’s here, I swear, just—"

"Step aside," she said, unimpressed. "Next!"

The boy looked like he might cry.

George whispered behind his palm, "This is my nightmare."

Emily already had her form gripped like it might be stolen by the wind. "Check yours. All of you. Now."

Luca opened his folder and let out a long, relieved breath. "Still safe."

Noel double-checked his own, running a finger down the ink-stamped section. "All good."

George peeked into his and frowned.

"Wait..."

Emily turned. "What wait?"

He blinked. "I... think I brought the old copy. Like, the draft. Not the signed one."

Emily froze. "George—please tell me you’re joking."

Luca leaned in. "Wait wait wait—what’s on it? Does it have the signature?"

George flipped the page to reveal... blankness.

Emily’s mouth dropped open. "GEORGE."

George began frantically rifling through his folder like a madman. "No no no no—I swear I had it! I had it when I left the dorm—I folded it like this and—and—OH—"

He stopped.

His eyes lit up.

He flipped one more page—bam. There it was. Signed. Stamped. Glorious.

"Ha!" He held it up in the air like a trophy. "False alarm!"

Emily slumped against the railing dramatically. "I aged six years just now."

"You deserve that," Noel muttered, hiding his laugh.

The woman behind the counter slammed her stamp down on another form.

"Next!"

Emily recovered just in time and stepped forward. Her file, crisp. Her voice, polite.

"Good morning, ma."

The process began again—check, stamp, scribble, and done.

Noel followed. Then Luca. Finally, George—still grinning like he’d just survived a final boss battle.

They stepped away from the counter, official forms now stamped and safe in their hands.

"We did it," Noel said softly, disbelief in his voice.

Luca slung an arm over his shoulder. "Look at us. Responsible adults."

George added, "With mild trauma."

Emily just shook her head, though the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile. "Next time, we leave you behind."

"Rude," George gasped. "I’m the emotional heart of this group."

"You’re the chaos," Noel corrected.

They laughed again, walking into the sun-drenched path like students who had just completed a legendary quest — and were now ready to eat everything in sight.

The cafeteria air was cooler than outside, a welcome relief after the furnace that was the bursary line.

Rows of tables buzzed with students—some talking loudly over shared meals, others hunched in silence over thick textbooks with plates of untouched food beside them.

Noel held the tray as he walked, scanning for an empty table. "Left corner?"

"Perfect," Luca said, already heading there with practiced ease.

They collapsed into their chairs like survivors returning from battle.

George dropped his tray with a dramatic groan, face first into the scent of hot jollof rice and fried plantain.

"This is the happiest I’ve been since semester started," George whispered to his spoon. "I might actually cry."

Emily ignored him and sipped her cold drink. "We still have exams tomorrow. Don’t get too comfortable."

"Please," George mumbled, chewing. "Let me live in denial until at least 5 p.m."

Noel poked at his beans, half-listening to the chaotic table behind them where someone had spilled juice and was now loudly arguing over tissue.

"So," he said casually, "who’s actually read anything for tomorrow?"

The table went quiet.

Emily blinked. Luca raised an eyebrow. George... stuffed more plantain into his mouth.

Noel nodded. "Right. That’s what I thought."

Emily finally sighed. "I planned to study yesterday. Then I ended up deep cleaning my entire room. Including my wardrobe. Including the inside of my pillowcase."

Luca chuckled. "I made a reading schedule. Colour-coded. Very aesthetic."

"Did you follow it?"

"I forgot where I saved the file."

George pointed his spoon like a prophecy. "Tonight. We start. Full focus."

"Like the last five nights you said that?" Emily shot back.

"Tonight for real."

Noel leaned on the table, a lazy smile forming. "This really feels like our last meal before execution."

"I feel that," Luca agreed. "But I’m going down with a full stomach and no regrets."

They clinked plastic cups together in a mock toast.

"To barely surviving," George said.

"To fake peace," Emily added.

"To chaos friendships," Luca smirked.

"To exams we didn’t prepare for," Noel finished.

They laughed, soft and full of the kind of comfort only shared stress could bring.

Outside, the world spun toward Friday. But inside, at a cafeteria table tucked into a busy campus, the four of them sat like nothing else mattered — just food, laughter, and the fragile calm before the exam storm.

And for a little while, with full plates and empty worry, it felt like they’d already made it through.