Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 83: Stay a Little Longer

The soft clack of Lina’s keys filled the quiet again, steady and unhurried. The wind stirred the umbrella above them. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed too loud, but here—here it was all soft edges.

"Your class starts?" Lina asked, eyes still on her screen.

"Three-thirty," Emily murmured, not moving.

Lina paused, glanced at the time on her laptop. "It’s almost time."

Emily checked her phone, then frowned. "I don’t want to go."

Lina’s fingers hovered above the keys. "You have to."

"I know," Emily said, voice low, as if saying it quietly might change the truth of it. "But I don’t want to."

She sat back, eyes flicking between the half-melted ice in her cup and Lina’s face.

"I like it here," she added. "Like this."

Lina finally looked at her.

There was something gentle in her gaze now—something that didn’t tease, didn’t flirt. Just... understood.

"I like it too," she said softly.

Emily exhaled, slow and deep, as though she’d been holding that breath all along.

Her hand reached for the condensation running down her glass, tracing a small circle in the water with her fingertip.

"Do you think," Emily said carefully, "we’ll get more days like this?"

Lina didn’t answer right away.

She looked at her—really looked—and closed her laptop slowly.

"If you want them," she said, "then yes."

Emily’s lips parted, just slightly, her eyes searching Lina’s like they were looking for a promise.

"I do," she whispered.

Lina leaned her chin on her hand, smiling now. Not the usual smug kind—but the soft one. The real one. The one she gave when her guard dropped.

"Then stay a little longer," she said.

And Emily did.

She didn’t look at the time again.

Eventually, the warmth of the moment was interrupted by the faint chime of a bell from inside the café.

Lina’s eyes drifted to her screen again.

"It’s 3:40," she said softly.

Emily blinked, slow.

For a second, it didn’t register.

Then—"Shit," she muttered under her breath, straightening in her seat. "I really have to go."

Lina gave a soft laugh. "Told you."

"I know." Emily was already gathering her things, reluctantly sliding her bag over one shoulder. "I lost track of time."

"You didn’t lose it," Lina said, closing her laptop with a gentle snap. "You just... gave it away."

Emily paused, standing now beside the table.

That line landed a little too neatly in her chest.

She looked down at Lina, a shy smile forming. "Then I hope it was worth something."

"It was," Lina said, looking up at her. "You always are."

Emily’s breath caught—not in shock, just... quietly.

She shifted her weight, brushing her thumb along the strap of her bag. "You’re going to say things like that and let me walk away?"

Lina’s smile softened. "Only if you promise to come back."

Emily tilted her head, eyes flickering.

Then she reached across the table and gently touched the back of Lina’s hand. Just for a moment. Her fingers warm, light, like something careful and deliberate.

"I’ll come back," she said. "You don’t even have to ask."

Lina’s expression didn’t change much, but something in her eyes—some small flicker of softness—deepened.

Emily stepped back.

She didn’t want to leave. But she did.

Her footsteps faded as she disappeared into the drifting afternoon, the world louder somehow without her.

Lina sat there, her laptop closed now, her fingers still resting on the spot Emily had touched.

And for a while, she didn’t move.

As she stepped back into the open air, the warmth of the café clung to her—but the world outside was sharper now, faster. It pulled her back into motion.

Emily’s footsteps quickened as she moved across campus, weaving through groups of students, the sound of her boots tapping lightly against the pavement.

Her thoughts were still trailing behind — back at the café, back at the look in Lina’s eyes, the softness of her voice, the warmth she hadn’t expected to carry with her this long.

I’ll come back, she had said.

And she meant it.

She checked the time.

Damn. 3:47.

She picked up her pace, about to cut across the lawn toward her building — when something caught her eye.

A familiar figure, sitting alone on a bench under the shade of a low tree near the edge of the arts building.

Luca.

His head was bowed, fingers wrapped around his phone like he wasn’t sure whether to grip it tighter or throw it.

The screen lit his face faintly — the kind of glow that said he was typing... and deleting. Typing again.

Emily slowed down.

He looked pale—like he’d spent hours arguing with himself and losing. His fingers clenched the phone, unlocking and locking it like it held something too heavy to send.

"Hey," she said as she reached him, her voice soft, unsure.

Luca startled slightly. He looked up, blinking. "Em."

"We have class," she reminded, tilting her head. "You forgot?"

He hesitated. "No, I just... I don’t know."

Emily studied him.

Luca wasn’t usually this still.

Or this quiet.

"You okay?"

He shrugged, the motion small. "Just... stuff."

Emily glanced at the phone still in his hand.

Noel, she thought — but she didn’t say it out loud.

She watched the way his hands fidgeted with his sleeve. It reminded her of the night after his last breakup—how he wouldn’t stop apologizing for simply being sad.

"You don’t have to tell me," she said, stepping back a little, "but you shouldn’t sit here letting it eat you. Come on, walk with me. Clear your head."

Luca looked hesitant, like the bench had him anchored.

"Luca," she said, a little firmer now. "Please."

After a moment, he stood.

They walked.

Neither of them spoke for a while — just the sound of shoes on gravel, voices in the distance, the rustle of wind through trees.

Eventually, Luca asked, "Aren’t we skipping class?"

Emily shrugged. "Technically. But we’re learning something else today: how to not let your brain destroy you."

That made him smile, barely.

They kept walking until the quiet turned companionable.

Then, after a long pause, Emily said, "You want to sit somewhere noisy? Distracting?"

Luca looked at her, unsure. "Like where?"

She nodded toward a building across the quad — music thumping faintly from inside. Not too wild, not too crowded.

"Club bar," she said. "It’s early. Nobody serious is there yet."

Luca hesitated.

"I don’t know..."

"I’m not saying dance on the table," Emily smirked, "just... sit. Breathe. Pretend the world’s not pressing down for a bit."

Luca glanced at the door in the distance, then back at her.

Then, finally... nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Just for a little."

"Good," Emily said, already leading the way. "We’re due for a little off script."

Inside the club, the air was cool and low-lit — not crowded yet, just the soft pulse of music through the floor and the hum of idle conversation bouncing off dim walls. Colored lights swept lazily across empty tables and half-occupied booths.

Emily and Luca slid into a spot near the back, tucked beneath a hanging light that glowed soft amber.

Luca sank into the seat, elbows on the table, eyes still distant.

Emily watched him a moment, then leaned back. "See? No expectations. Just breathing."

He nodded, barely.

The music shifted, and Emily felt something cold slip into the warmth—like a shadow before a storm. Then a voice she knew too well cut through the haze.

Tall, cocky grin, sleeves rolled, chain dangling from his neck like he wore nightlife like second skin.

Jordan.

Emily’s smile faded the moment she saw him.

He stopped at their table like he belonged there.

"Well, well," Jordan said, eyes flicking between them. "Didn’t expect to see you here before sunset."

Luca’s shoulders tensed the moment he heard that voice. Emily didn’t look up right away—like she already knew who it was just from the shift in the air.

Emily crossed her arms. "You in every club in this city or is this just your scheduled haunting?"

Jordan gave a lazy smirk. "What can I say? I like to check on my people."

He clapped Luca on the back — too hard.

Luca managed a faint smile but didn’t say much. Just sank further into his seat.

Jordan turned to the bar with a snap of his fingers. "I’ll grab us a round. Vodka or rum?"

"No," Emily cut in sharply.

Jordan paused.

"No drinks," she said again, this time more firm. "Luca isn’t here to get drunk."

Jordan blinked, slow — amused, not offended. "Who said anything about drunk? It’s just a couple glasses. Chill."

"Yeah, and then you’ll drag him to the next party," Emily shot back. "Then the next. I’ve seen this pattern, Jordan."

He leaned slightly closer, voice cool. "And yet he still calls me when he’s not okay. Funny, isn’t it?"

Emily’s jaw tightened.

She looked at Luca — quiet between them, his fingers nervously tugging at the edge of his sleeve.like a question he couldn’t answer aloud.

He wasn’t looking at either of them.

Just down.

Small. Quiet. Not himself.

Emily softened her tone, her gaze flicking to him. "Luca... do you want a drink?"

Luca blinked, lifting his eyes slowly.

There was a pause. Then:

"No," he said, barely above a whisper. "Not tonight."

Jordan raised both hands in mock surrender, backing off. "Fine. No drinks. Water for the prince."

Emily gave him a flat look. Jordan just grinned, leaning against the booth’s edge.

"Relax," he muttered. "I’m not the villain."

"You just like playing one," she replied.

Jordan chuckled low. "Maybe."

Luca finally looked up at both of them, trying to piece his thoughts back into place.

Jordan shoved his hands into his pockets, watching him carefully. "You call me if you want to bounce, alright?"

Luca nodded once.

Jordan gave a two-finger salute and disappeared into the growing crowd.

The silence he left behind wasn’t loud—but it lingered.

Emily looked back at Luca. "You okay?"

He nodded again, slower. "Yeah. I just... needed somewhere else."

"You don’t have to explain," she said softly. "I get it."

They sat back, side by side, not touching — but the quiet between them was steadier now.

Not fixed.

But not broken either.

This time, she didn’t walk away. She stayed—and it mattered.

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