Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 228: Before the Day Ends

The lobby café was a pocket of calm amid the steady rhythm of footsteps and echoing chatter.

The soft hum of the espresso machine blended with the low murmur of conversation, the scent of roasted beans curling lazily through the air.

Mr. Max stepped up to the counter with practiced ease, scanning the menu board though it was clear he already knew what he wanted. "Two americanos," he said to the barista, then glanced back at Noel. "Or you take yours with milk.?"

Noel hesitated, slightly caught off guard. "Uh... yeah, just a bit."

"Make that one latte," Max corrected, tapping his card against the counter before Noel could even reach for his wallet.

Noel frowned lightly, already pulling his phone from his pocket. "You didn’t have to—I can pay for mine."

Max waved him off, slipping the receipt into his pocket. "Consider it a post-meeting caffeine bonus. You earned it."

Noel shook his head, quiet amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That’s not how bonuses work."

"Depends on who you ask."

The corner of Max’s mouth lifted—half grin, half something else—and for a moment, the easy confidence in his tone almost masked the faint pull beneath it.

Noel looked down at his hands, fussing with the cardboard sleeve around his cup once the drinks arrived.

Silence wasn’t awkward with Max—it was just... quiet. Observed.

As they walked toward the elevator, the soft click of Max’s shoes echoed against the marble floor.

Noel matched his pace, notebook tucked neatly under his arm.

"You handled yourself well in there," Max said after a pause. "Most interns freeze up when senior staff start pressing. You didn’t."

"I just... said what I saw."

"And that’s the trick. Speak only when you have something worth saying." Max pressed the elevator button, turning slightly toward him. "You’ve got instinct, Noel. Don’t dull it trying to be perfect."

Noel’s gaze flicked up, uncertain. "You think I’m trying too hard?"

"I think you care too much about not messing up." Max smiled, small but genuine. "And that’s not a bad thing—it just means you’re still new."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

They stepped inside, standing side by side, reflections mirrored in the brushed steel.

Noel sipped his latte to hide his expression, warmth from the cup seeping into his hands. "You’re surprisingly motivational." he murmured.

Max chuckled lowly. "Don’t get used to it. I’m only like this before lunch."

That drew a quiet laugh from Noel, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but softened his whole face nonetheless.

By the time the elevator reached the fourth floor, the mood had settled into something easy—professional, yes, but threaded with something quieter, something unspoken.

Max stepped out first, holding the door just a little longer than necessary. "Come on," he said, his tone businesslike again. "We’ve got reports to finish before the day decides to eat us alive."

Noel followed, still holding his coffee, still unsure if the quick twist in his chest was from caffeine—or something else entirely.

The afternoon dragged into that quiet stretch between productivity and fatigue, where even the hum of computers started to sound tired.

The third floor was calmer now—papers shuffled, screens glowed, and Georgia’s door stayed firmly shut.

Luca leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing at the time. Nearly six. He reached for his phone without thinking, thumb hovering over the messages already open.

**Luca:** Done for the day. You?

The reply came a minute later.

**Noel:** Still working. Don’t wait for me. I’ll be late tonight.

Luca stared at the screen, reading the words once... twice. A muscle in his jaw tightened.

He should’ve expected it—Max’s department kept Noel longer—but somehow it still stung a little.

He typed something—*You sure?*—then deleted it before it could breathe. The memory of last night flickered up: Noel’s soft voice, the gentle way he’d said, "Next time, just go home, okay? Don’t wait for me."

Luca exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the dim light of his phone. He hated that sentence.

Hated how reasonable it sounded, how calm Noel had been when he said it.

He locked his phone, tossed it lightly onto the desk, and forced himself to focus back on the report in front of him.

But the words blurred. His thoughts wouldn’t stop circling. Max. Noel. The two of them on the same floor again.

The image of that morning’s elevator ride flashed in his mind—how close Max had leaned, the way Noel had smiled politely.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

The office light caught the silver edge of his watch, marking every second he wasn’t beside Noel.

Outside, the sky was turning the color of burnt sugar, streaked with tired gold.

Something twisted in his chest, slow and bitter, and he pressed his thumb against the desk he keep tapping it, grounding himself before the feeling could spill.

Don’t be stupid, he told himself. It’s just work.

Bella’s voice broke his spiral. "Hey," she said, swinging her chair toward him, "you look like you just lost a fight with your brain."

He gave a small laugh, trying to play it off. "Just tired."

She arched an eyebrow. "Mm-hm. Sure."

Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t have to—Bella had that knowing look, the one that said she’d already guessed too much.

He turned back to his screen, jaw unclenching slowly, and murmured, mostly to himself, "He’ll finish soon."

The words were quiet, almost like a promise—to himself more than anyone else.

The office had thinned out by the time the clock’s hands brushed past seven.

Most desks were empty now—monitors dimmed, chairs pushed in, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound left standing.

Luca and Bella sat across from each other, their screens still glowing.

A few stray papers were spread between them, the leftovers of a day that had overstayed its welcome.

Bella stifled a yawn, stretching until her joints popped. "We’re officially overachievers. Or idiots. Hard to tell."

Luca gave a distracted hum, eyes still on the layout draft. "Just wanted to clean up the pitch notes before Georgia reviews them tomorrow."

Before Bella could reply, the soft click of heels echoed down the hall.

Georgia emerged from her office, one hand on the doorframe, the other holding her coffee mug.

"You two are still here?" Her tone was half-surprised, half-irritated.

Bella straightened immediately. "Almost done, ma’am."

Georgia sighed, setting her mug on the nearest desk. "No. You’re done. Pack it up. We don’t keep interns this late. If something’s unfinished, it waits until tomorrow. Clear?"

Luca hesitated, eyes flicking back to his screen. "But the—"

"No ’but,’" Georgia cut in, the firmness softened by a small smile. "Work will still be here in the morning. You won’t get a medal for skipping dinner."

Bella shot Luca a look that said, *Don’t argue with her.*

He exhaled, leaning back. "Yes, ma’am."

Georgia nodded, satisfied. "Good. Go home." Then, as she turned back toward her office, she added quietly, "And get some sleep."

When the door closed behind her, Bella grinned. "We’ve been dismissed by the queen herself."

Luca chuckled faintly, gathering his things. "Guess so."

As they walked toward the elevator, the silence between them stretched, comfortable but heavy.

Bella glanced at him—he looked distracted again, that faraway look she’d started to recognize.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

"Hey," she said after a moment, "you didn’t even check your phone tonight. That’s a first."

Luca’s jaw flexed. "No need to."

"Mm." Bella’s voice was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Noel still working late?"

He didn’t answer right away. "Yeah," he said finally. "Said not to wait."

"Ah." Her lips curved faintly. "And you’re actually listening?"

The elevator dinged softly as they reached the lobby.

Luca stepped out without responding, his pace steady but a little too fast.

Bella blinked, hurrying to keep up. Normally, he’d linger—find some excuse to hang around the lobby, scroll his phone, pretend he wasn’t waiting for someone. But tonight, he just... walked.

"Hey," she said, catching up, her tone softening, "you okay?"

Luca kept his gaze ahead. "Yeah. Just tired."

Bella studied his face, the small crease between his brows, the clipped rhythm of his steps. "You sure it’s not something else?"

He stopped at the building’s glass doors, hands buried in his pockets.

The city’s night hum rolled in from outside—horns, footsteps, laughter, a thousand lives moving faster than his thoughts.

"Doesn’t matter," he said finally. "He’s busy. I get it."

Bella’s voice dropped low. "Luca..."

He turned, forced a small smile. "Come on. I’m fine."

But his eyes—quiet, a little faraway—told a different story.

Bella didn’t push.

She just nodded, falling into step beside him as they walked out into the cool air.

The glass doors slid shut behind them, sealing the office in its silence.

And somewhere, four floors above, a light was still on.