Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 278: Disgustingly Domestic

George arrived at exactly seven, arms full of takeout containers that definitely weren’t pizza.

"I took initiative," he announced, kicking the door closed behind him. "Chinese food. Better than your predictable pizza order."

"We like pizza," Luca protested from the couch.

"You’re obsessed with pizza. There’s a difference." George set the containers on their small dining table. "Also, I got extra spring rolls because I know you’ll steal mine otherwise."

"I wouldn’t steal your spring rolls."

"You absolutely would."

"Okay, I would. But only because you eat too slowly."

Noel emerged from the bedroom where he’d been changing into comfortable clothes. "Hey, George."

"Noel. Voice of reason. Tell Luca he’s a spring roll thief."

"He’s definitely a spring roll thief," Noel confirmed. "I’ve lost many spring rolls to him."

"Traitor," Luca said.

"Honest."

George was already unpacking food, arranging containers with more care than necessary. "Okay, so I brought lo mein, orange chicken, beef and broccoli, fried rice, and yes, spring rolls. Also fortune cookies because fortune cookies are non-negotiable."

"You’re very particular about Chinese food," Luca observed.

"I spent Six months in China. I developed standards."

They settled around the table—close quarters in the small apartment, but comfortable.

The cat appeared immediately, investigating the new smells with intense feline interest.

"No," Noel told him. "None of this is for you."

Meowed his disagreement.

"He makes a compelling argument," George said.

"He makes no argument. He’s just loud."

They served themselves, passing containers, the conversation flowing easily.

"So," George said, loading his plate with fried rice. "Project status. Where are we actually at?"

"Further than Emily thinks we are," Luca said.

"That’s not a high bar. Emily thinks we’re perpetually behind."

"We have the company analysis done, competitive positioning mapped, and most of the financial projections finished," Noel said, having reviewed their work earlier. "You’re actually in good shape."

"See?" Luca gestured with his chopsticks. "Noel says we’re good."

"Noel is objective. Emily is... Emily."

"She’s been intense lately," George said, more serious now. "Even for her."

"She’ll be okay," Luca said eventually. "She just needs time."

"Yeah." George took a bite of orange chicken. "So what do we actually need to do tonight? Because I’m not going to lie, I’m exhausted and was kind of hoping this would be more hanging out than working."

"We need to outline the recommendations section," Luca said. "That’s the only major piece left."

"Can’t we just recommend they make more money?"

"That’s not a strategy."

"It’s a goal."

"Goals and strategies aren’t the same thing."

"They should be."

Noel smiled, watching them bicker. It was comfortable—the kind of argument that came from people who’d known each other long enough that disagreement was just another form of communication.

"Okay," George said, pulling out his laptop. "Let’s do this efficiently so we can actually enjoy the rest of the evening. Luca, pull up the shared document."

They worked for forty-five minutes, bouncing ideas back and forth, George surprisingly focused when he wanted to be, Luca contributing insights that showed he’d actually thought deeply about the project.

"Wait," George said at one point. "That’s actually brilliant. Why didn’t we think of that before?"

"Because we weren’t thinking strategically enough," Luca said.

"Look at you. Using business terminology correctly."

"I’ve been known to be smart occasionally."

"Very occasionally."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

Noel mostly observed, offering input when asked but letting them lead since it was their project. He was impressed by how they worked together—the easy back-and-forth, the building on each other’s ideas, the lack of ego.

Internship had changed them both. Made them sharper. More confident.

By eight-thirty, they’d outlined the entire recommendations section, divided tasks for the coming week, and were officially done with mandatory productivity.

"Okay," George said, closing his laptop with satisfaction. "Now we can actually hang out like normal humans."

They migrated to the living room, George claiming the armchair, Luca and Noel settling on the couch.

"So," George said, stretching out. "Real talk. How’s final semester treating everyone?"

"Like it wants me dead," Luca said.

"Same."

"But also it’s going faster than expected," Luca added. "Like, we’re already a month in."

"Don’t remind me. Every time I think about graduation, I have a small crisis."

"What kind of crisis?"

"The ’what am I doing with my life’ kind."

"Oh. That crisis. I have that one daily."

Noel listened to them commiserate, recognizing his own recent anxiety reflected in their conversation.

It was oddly comforting—knowing everyone was equally uncertain.

"What about you?" George asked Noel. "You seem like you’d have a five-year plan and a backup plan."

"I used to," Noel admitted. "Now I’m just... taking it one day at a time."

"Character development," Luca said, squeezing his knee.

"Or character deterioration."

"Definitely development."

George watched them with amusement. "You two are disgustingly domestic, you know that?"

"We’ve been told," Luca said.

"Multiple times," Noel added.

"By multiple people," Luca finished.

"See? You even finish each other’s sentences. It’s adorable and nauseating."

"You’re just jealous."

"I’m extremely jealous," George said without shame. "You found someone who tolerates your chaos. That’s like finding a unicorn."

"Hey—"

"He’s not wrong," Noel said.

"Also traitor."

"Also honest."

George laughed. "How do you do it though? Seriously. Live together, go to school together, deal with all the stress together. Doesn’t it get overwhelming?"

Luca and Noel looked at each other, some silent communication passing between them.

"Sometimes," Luca said. "But we’ve learned to balance it. Take breaks from each other when needed. Communicate instead of assuming."

"And we’re both better at asking for help now," Noel added. "Instead of trying to handle everything alone."

"Internship taught us that," Luca said. "How to actually work as a team."

George nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can see that. You’re both different than you were a months ago."

"Different how?"

"I don’t know. More... settled? No, that’s not the right word. More comfortable in your own skin, maybe. Like you figured out who you are and stopped apologizing for it."

"That’s very philosophical for eight-thirty on a Tuesday," Luca said.

"China made me deep."

"China made you pretentious."

"Also true."

They talked for another hour, conversation wandering through topics—George’s stories about his internship, funny moments from classes, speculation about what came after graduation that none of them had real answers for.

Around nine-thirty, George’s phone buzzed. He checked it, smiled slightly, and stood.

"That’s my cue. Early class tomorrow and I’m already behind on reading."

"You’re always behind on reading," Luca said.

"Hence why I need to leave." George gathered his things, pausing at the door. "This was good. We should do it more often. Just hang out without the pressure of always being productive."

"Agreed," Noel said.

"Also, Luca?"

"Yeah?"

"You’re still a spring roll thief."

"And you’re still too slow."

George left laughing, and Luca locked the door behind him.

"He’s in a good mood," Noel observed.

"He has been lately. China was good for him."

"Or maybe just time away from everything. Sometimes distance gives perspective."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Around the same time you got responsible."

"Terrifying."

"Little bit."

They cleaned up the remaining food.

"George was right about one thing," Luca said, curling into Noel’s side.

"What’s that?"

"This is nice. Just existing with you. No pressure to be anything other than what we are."

"We’re good at this now," Noel agreed. "The existing part."

"We are."

They stayed like that, some show playing on TV that neither really watched, the apartment quiet and comfortable around them.

Later, in bed, Luca said sleepily, "George called us disgustingly domestic."

"We are disgustingly domestic."

"Is that bad?"

"No. It’s perfect."

"Yeah," Luca murmured, already drifting. "It really is."

Noel pulled him closer, both of them tired but content, the kind of tired that came from good conversations and productive work and time spent with people you cared about.

Outside, the city continued its nighttime rhythm.

Inside, they existed in their small bubble of domestic comfort—homework and companionship and the quiet certainty that whatever challenges tomorrow brought, they’d face them together.

Wednesday morning arrived with rain—not heavy, just persistent, the kind that made everything gray and soft.

Luca had an early class, leaving before Noel woke up, and by the time Noel emerged from the bedroom, only the cat remained, looking accusatory about being left alone.

"He’ll be back," Noel told him, preparing coffee. "Stop being dramatic."

Noel’s own first class wasn’t until ten, giving him rare morning time alone in the apartment.

He took his coffee to the couch, pulling up his capstone document, reading through what he’d written with fresh eyes.

It was coming together. Slowly, messily, but coming together.

His phone buzzed.

Luca: this lecture is putting me to sleep

Noel: it’s 9 am

Luca: exactly. too early for consciousness

Noel: you chose to take morning classes

Luca: past me made terrible decisions

Noel: present you has to live with them

Luca: cruel but accurate

Luca: what are you doing

Noel: capstone revisions. drinking coffee. being judged by your cat

Luca: he judges everyone

Noel: he judges you most

Luca: fair

Around nine-thirty, Noel packed up his materials and headed to campus, the rain having softened to drizzle.

His International Trade Law class was thorough as always, Professor Williams diving deep into case studies that were actually interesting when you paid attention.

After class, he had three hours before his next obligation, so he headed back to the art building’s collaborative workspace—it had become his regular spot now, the space and light helping him focus better than anywhere else on campus.

He was settling in when Alex appeared in the doorway.

"Noel, hey. This is becoming your office."

"It’s a good space."

"Mind if I work here? My studio is being used for a critique."

"Go ahead."

Alex set up at the far end, and they fell into their usual pattern—working independently, occasionally making comments, comfortable silence punctuated by occasional conversation.

Around one, Noel’s phone buzzed.

Group chat.

George: emergency project meeting needed. Emily found an error in our data

Luca: what kind of error

George: the kind that means we need to redo section 2

Luca: are you kidding

George: wish I was. can you meet at 3?

Luca: yeah

Luca: Noel I’ll be late getting home

Noel: ok. let me know if you need anything

Luca: just sympathy

Noel: you have my sympathy

Luca: and maybe spring rolls later

Noel: I’ll get spring rolls

Luca: this is why I love you

Noel smiled, setting his phone down.

"Good news?" Alex asked, having noticed.

"Luca’s project hit a snag. He’s stressed."

"Ah. The joys of group work."

"You don’t do group projects in art?"

"Sometimes. But mostly we suffer alone." Alex went back to his sketching. "Less coordination required. More existential dread."

"Sounds terrible."

"It is. But also kind of freeing? Like, if it fails, it’s entirely my fault. No one else to blame."

"That doesn’t sound freeing. That sounds stressful."

"Both. Definitely both."

They worked until three, when Noel had to leave for his own class.

Walking across campus, he thought about stress and group work and the different ways people approached challenges.

Luca with his project team, working through setbacks together.

Alex in his studio, creating alone but supported by friends.

Noel with his capstone, solitary research but with an advisor guiding.

Different paths. Same destination—trying to finish, trying to succeed, trying to figure out what came next.

Everyone just doing their best with the tools they had.

That was enough.