Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]
Chapter 120: One More Day

Chapter 120: One More Day

2:39 p.m.

The bench outside Block C wasn’t built for four, but they made it work—barely.

George sprawled at one end, legs stretched and tapping lazily against the tiles.

Emily sat next to him, hugging her bag, head tilted against the wall with eyes half-closed.

Luca slouched beside her, hair a mess, sleeves pushed up, still clutching his water bottle like it held answers.

Noel sat on the edge, arms crossed, gaze fixed on some far-off spot down the hallway.

No one spoke for a moment. Just the sound of students passing, murmurs of "What did you write for number four?" and footsteps echoing toward the exit.

George broke the silence. "I feel like my brain walked out of that hall without me."

Emily didn’t open her eyes. "It left when you started snoring over the last question."

Luca chuckled, leaning forward. "He wasn’t snoring... but that dramatic sigh you let out after the essay question—everyone turned."

George smirked, unbothered. "I had to release the pain, okay? That question came from the devil himself."

Noel raised a brow, finally glancing over. "You’re always this loud after exams?"

"Only when I survive them," George replied. "And tomorrow... tomorrow is freedom."

Emily opened one eye. "Can we not jinx it?"

Luca leaned back, letting his head hit the wall gently. "One more paper. Just one."

Noel gave a slow nod. "We’re almost there."

Silence returned—gentler this time—as they leaned back against peeling paint, letting the day soak through their skin.

It wasn’t celebration yet. But it was close.

George stretched his arms above his head with a groan that turned heads. "Let’s go grab some snacks before I collapse," he muttered.

Noel glanced at his watch. "Then library. One more night. Let’s finish this."

Emily stood, brushing off her jeans. "You two go sit with your misery. I need energy. I need to see my girlfriend."

George blinked. "Lina is your energy source now?"

Emily gave him a dry look. "She’s better than that cafeteria coffee you keep worshiping."

Luca chuckled under his breath, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. "Let’s move before I fall asleep on this bench."

Across campus, their steps carried the weight of exams but landed lighter now—one foot closer to freedom.

The campus store was a familiar stop: bright lights, hum of the freezer, and the soft beep of the counter.

Emily grabbed a few protein bars, then hesitated before reaching for an extra chocolate-covered one.

She turned it in her hand, smiled to herself, and added it to her basket.

"For Lina?" Luca asked quietly beside her.

Emily nodded, tossing him a small grin. "She likes this one. Says it makes studying bearable."

George piled his arms with chips, a bottled soda, and something questionable wrapped in cling film. "This," he said proudly, "is how champions survive the final battle."

They stepped out of the store, squinting against the afternoon light.

Emily checked her phone. "Alright, I’m off. If I’m not seen for the next few hours, assume I’m being fed emotional support and possibly bad advice."

"Tell Lina she owes us her magical presence after tomorrow," George called after her.

Emily just waved without turning around.

As her footsteps faded, George looked down at his snacks, then at the building ahead.

"I can do it," he muttered like a pep talk to himself. "Just one more day."

Luca gave him a bump on the shoulder as they walked. "You’ve said that every day."

"But this time it’s true," Noel said, already scanning through his notes mid-step.

And the three of them made their way toward the library—tired, wired, and just one exam away from freedom.

The library doors hissed open with a soft click, releasing a gust of cold air that hit their faces like a slap.

George groaned. "Why does it always feel like walking into a fridge?"

Noel didn’t respond—he was already scanning the near-empty tables like a soldier securing terrain.

Luca nudged George with his elbow. "He’s in survival mode. Just follow him."

They slipped into a corner table near the windows, half-hidden behind a tall stack of outdated journals.

George dumped his snacks in the middle like a peace offering. "Alright. I’ve got sugar, salt, and regret. Pick your poison."

Luca pulled out his notes, flipping through the pages absently. His eyes drifted toward the window.

Late afternoon light slanted across the library shelves, golden and tired, much like them.

Noel clicked his pen. "Luca, focus."

Luca blinked, then frowned. "I am focusing."

"You’re staring out the window."

George popped open his soda. "Let him daydream for five seconds. He’s earned it."

"You’re not his lawyer," Noel muttered, already scribbling in his notebook.

George grinned. "Maybe I am. Maybe I’m also charging him snacks per hour."

Luca smiled faintly, then dropped his gaze to his notes.

The words swam a little, but he kept reading. He heard the scratch of Noel’s pen, the crinkle of George opening chips, the faint hum of someone’s laptop two tables over.

This was the rhythm now—pressure and companionship wrapped into silence.

George leaned over after a while, voice quieter. "Hey... You guys think we’ll remember any of this by next week?"

Luca looked up. "Do you want the truth?"

"No," George said quickly. "Lie to me."

"We’ll remember it just enough to forget the important parts," Noel said dryly, eyes never leaving his page.

George threw his head back dramatically. "We’re doomed."

But they weren’t. Not really.

Despite the chaos, the exhaustion, the mental fog—they were still here. Together.

And somehow, that made everything feel a little more possible.

The hours didn’t race—they melted.

Outside, the sunlight dipped lower, casting long golden fingers through the windows, softening everything it touched.

Inside, the trio remained at their corner table like statues of fatigue, only the occasional flick of a pen or rustle of a page breaking the silence.

George had gone quiet—rare for him. His head rested against a balled-up hoodie, highlighter still in hand but unmoving. His eyelids fluttered once, then again.

Noel glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He shifted his gaze to Luca instead.

Luca was scribbling, underlining a term twice, then drawing a tiny question mark beside it. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a quiet calm to his face. Focused. Steady.

"Good," Noel murmured, barely above a whisper.

Luca looked up. "Hm?"

Noel didn’t look away from his own notes. "You’re catching up."

Luca blinked at him for a second longer, then smiled faintly and went back to work.

His heart didn’t beat any faster, but something about that small praise from Noel—it stuck. Like warmth in cold sleeves.

Outside, dusk began to tiptoe in.

The lights overhead clicked softly as they adjusted to the fading sunlight, casting a pale glow across their books and tired faces.

"Should we go soon?" Luca asked, voice hoarse.

"We will," Noel replied. "Give it fifteen."

George gave a faint snore.

Luca chuckled under his breath. "Or maybe we’ll carry him out."

Noel’s mouth twitched in the faintest trace of amusement. "If he drools on my flashcards, he’s walking home."

They didn’t leave just yet.

They stayed for a little while longer—too tired to move, too wired to stop.

George stirred, rubbing at his eyes. "Okay," he muttered, voice rough with sleep. "Pop quiz. What’s the difference between internal and external economies of scale?"

Luca didn’t even look up. "Internal—cost savings within the firm. External—cost savings from industry growth."

George blinked. "You memorized that?"

Luca nodded, still flipping through his notes. "I wrote it on my mirror for two days straight."

George gave a slow whistle. "Damn. I’m actually proud of you."

"I’m proud of me," Luca mumbled, half a smile tugging at his mouth.

Noel, from across the table, said nothing.

He didn’t need to. His eyes lingered—just a little too long—on the way Luca tapped his pen to count off points, how his brows furrowed seriously over a question George tossed at him, how he didn’t give up when he hesitated.

It wasn’t just that Luca was trying.

It was that he kept trying.

And to Noel, that mattered more than getting every answer right.

"Okay," George went on, leaning forward. "Break-even chart. Go."

Luca groaned. "Oh, for God’s sake—fine. Fixed cost on the Y-axis. Output on the X. Total cost and total revenue lines—intersect at the break-even point."

"Wow." George leaned back. "Who are you and what did you do with Luca?"

"I’m the desperate, sleep-deprived, about-to-collapse version," Luca replied, dragging a hand through his hair.

Noel’s voice was soft when it came. "You’re doing good."

Luca looked up.

Noel didn’t look away. For once, he wanted Luca to feel the full weight of his faith in him—without saying a word too soon. And somehow, Luca did.

For a moment, the world felt still. Just the rustle of pages, the hum of fluorescent lights, and a quiet pride that didn’t need to be dressed up in fancy words.

Luca nodded once, almost to himself, and returned to his notes. A little straighter now. A little more sure.

Evening arrived like breath against glass—cool, quiet, and soft enough to forget it was ever loud.

But it didn’t push them. It simply settled around them, like a blanket they didn’t know they needed.