Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 86: Until I Find You

The sun had dipped just enough to soften the heat. Long shadows stretched across the garden paths, and the scent of cut grass lingered in the air.

A few students wandered between benches, some with earbuds in, others talking low over iced coffee cups.

Emily sat near the stone wall that wrapped around the edge of the garden, legs crossed, her laptop balanced against her thighs.

She was typing slowly — not rushed, not focused — the kind of typing that meant she was pretending to work while her mind wandered elsewhere.

Beside her, Lina was curled up more loosely, one leg drawn up on the bench, stylus in hand as she sketched on her tablet.

Her hair had loosened slightly since class, and a strand of hair kept falling into her face. She blew it away without thinking, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

They didn’t speak much.

But it was a comfortable silence — the kind that didn’t demand to be filled.

Emily paused mid-sentence, stretched her arms above her head, then tilted her head toward Lina.

"What are you working on?"

Lina didn’t look up. "That cover illustration for my design module. I thought I hated it. But now..." she angled the tablet slightly, just enough for Emily to see. "I don’t."

Emily leaned in. "Oh—oh wow. That’s really good."

Lina gave a faint smile. "It’s still rough. I’ve redrawn the lines like four times."

"Well, it’s still better than whatever essay I’m pretending to finish."

Lina arched a brow. "You’ve been on the same paragraph for ten minutes."

Emily closed her laptop with a sigh. "Busted."

Lina turned fully toward her now, gaze softer. "Everything okay?"

Before Emily could answer, she spotted movement along the far path.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that..."

Lina turned to look.

It was Noel.

His backpack hung low from one shoulder, his hoodie unzipped halfway, and his expression unreadable — that same quiet, tense stillness he carried in class. But this time, he wasn’t pretending. His eyes flicked between benches, searching, scanning.

He saw them.

His pace slowed slightly as he approached.

Lina straightened, polite but distant.

Emily’s smile faded just a touch. She could feel something was off.

Noel stopped in front of them, hand still loosely curled around his bag strap.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Emily sat up straighter. "Hey. You good?"

There was a pause.

Then: "Can I talk to you?"

Her brows pulled together. "Yeah, of course."

Lina caught the shift in Noel’s voice — something brittle beneath the calm, like a thread stretched too tight.

She didn’t leave.

But she stood slowly, sliding her tablet into her tote bag and brushing off her jeans.

Lina glanced at Noel again — sharp enough to notice, soft enough to step back."I’ll go grab us some coffee," she said casually, her voice even, but her eyes touched Emily’s for half a second — a quiet offer of space.

Emily nodded, understanding instantly.

"Caramel, please."

Lina smirked faintly. "Of course."

She turned to Noel. "You?"

He shook his head. "I’m good. Thanks."

Lina gave him a small nod — not cold, not warm, just respectful — and then walked off down the path that led toward the little café kiosk across the garden.

Emily turned back to Noel, her laptop already forgotten. Her eyes narrowed slightly, worry showing through now that it was just the two of them.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

Noel didn’t answer right away.

He stared past her for a second, jaw set, then finally exhaled.

"Did you..." he hesitated, then looked at her more directly. "Did you see Luca yesterday? Or today?"

Emily blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

She hesitated. Her fingers curled tighter around her laptop. She wasn’t sure if she was protecting Luca... or herself.

"...Yeah."

Noel’s jaw tightened.

He felt that answer like a crack down his spine.

"Where?"

Emily looked at him for a moment longer, unsure how much to give.

There was silence.

Noel didn’t press — not with words — but it was in his eyes. That stillness that begged for an answer without speaking.

Emily shifted slightly in her seat, lowering her gaze.

"We ran into each other," she said finally. "By the east bench, near the Visual Arts block."

Noel’s eyes didn’t move.

"I asked him to walk with me for a bit. He looked... off."

Emily’s fingers tugged at the zipper of her laptop case. "He didn’t say much at first. Just that you two had a fight or something. He didn’t explain."

Noel’s throat tightened.

"And then?" he asked, voice low.

Emily hesitated again. "He didn’t want to go back to the dorm. Said he felt like he wasn’t wanted. So I... suggested a walk. We ended up going to a club."

Noel blinked slowly. "A club."

"It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal," she rushed gently. "I thought maybe it’d distract him a little. Just music, a few people. I didn’t stay long."

Noel looked away now, gaze fixed somewhere past the trees.

"Did he go with... anyone else?"

Emily hesitated too long.

And that told him more than words.

"I left him with Jordan," she admitted softly. "I didn’t know things were this bad between you. I thought he’d be fine."

Noel’s hand curled slightly on his knee.

"Right," he said quietly. "Jordan."

His tone was unreadable — flat, like it was trying not to shake.

Emily reached out a little. "Noel..."

But he stood before she could say more.

"Thanks for telling me," he said. His voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either.

Just distant.

Emily stood too. "Wait—where are you going?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: "I need to find him."

And with that, Noel turned and walked away — His footsteps vanished into the wind.

Emily stood for a long moment after he disappeared, the weight of whatever came next settling over her chest like dusk.

The sun had dipped low enough to cast orange streaks across the pavement as Noel walked, fast but not quite running — like if he moved too quickly, the ache in his chest might crack open wider.

He pulled out his phone again and dialed.

The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then: "The number you’re calling is currently unreachable..."

His thumb hovered above the screen, then dropped. The phone felt heavier now — like holding silence in his palm.

His reflection stared back at him in the dark glass — tired, tight-lipped, eyes too full for someone who was supposed to be just casually dating.

He exhaled hard through his nose.

"Come on, Luca..."

He stopped near the bus stop across from the row of nightlife buildings. His mind scanned what Emily said, what he knew. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Luca didn’t want to go home.

He was with Jordan.

And Jordan only ever went to one of those places when he wanted to drink without bumping into too many classmates.

Noel thought about it.

Pulse was the first — loud, neon, messy.

Then Amberlight — Jordan’s usual haunt. Tamer but still wild after 9.

And last, Lower East — the most quiet, almost too mellow for Jordan, unless they were winding down late.

Noel clenched his jaw.

Amberlight.

That was the one Luca had mentioned once in passing — Jordan liked the bartender there.

He started walking.

The sky had deepened into a dusky blue by the time Noel reached Amberlight.

From the outside, it was modest — low-lit signage, warm gold glow spilling from its frosted glass door, and the muffled thump of bass pulsing through the walls like a distant heartbeat.

He stood there for a second.

Then pushed the door open.

The music hit him first — not loud enough to deafen, but heavy enough to feel in his chest.

Inside, the space was moody, all velvet shadows and dark wood, the kind of place people came to disappear.

He stepped in slowly.

A couple of students he vaguely recognized were seated in a booth near the back, laughing over something in a shared drink.

The bar was to his left, polished and backlit, bottles glowing like stained glass.

He moved toward it, heart knocking.

The bartender was drying a glass with a white towel — tall, wide-shouldered, clean-shaven. He looked up as Noel approached.

"You looking for something?" he asked, voice friendly but sharp-edged from repetition.

Noel nodded. "Yeah, um... maybe. Sorry to bother you."

The bartender shrugged. "Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard tonight."

Noel hesitated, glancing down, then pulled out his phone and showed a picture. It was one he’d snapped days ago when Luca wasn’t paying attention — half-blurry, sun in his eyes, biting into a sandwich. He looked... happy.

"His name’s Luca," Noel said. "Silver-gray hair. Jacket usually unzipped. He was probably here yesterday. With a guy — Jordan. They come here often?"

The bartender leaned forward slightly, peering at the phone. Then his expression softened with recognition.

"Oh. Yeah. Luca." He nodded. "He was here last night. Left in kind of a rush. Seemed out of it."

Noel’s pulse quickened. "Do you know if he’s coming back?"

The bartender set the glass down. "Actually... he left his phone."

Noel blinked.

"He always puts it on the counter when he’s drinking," the bartender went on. "Didn’t grab it when they left. His friend said they’d come pick it up today."

Noel stared at him.

So that’s why he didn’t respond.

He wasn’t ignoring him.

He didn’t have his phone.

For a moment, that hit Noel harder than the worst-case scenario he’d been picturing.

Not rejection. Not avoidance.

Just... a stupid forgotten phone.

The bartender was watching him. "You a friend of his?"

Noel took a breath. Then nodded.

"I guess I am."

The bartender raised a brow. "You want to wait?"

Noel nodded, voice low. "If that’s okay."

The man gave a short shrug. "As long as you’re not causing trouble, sure. Grab any booth."

Noel offered a faint, polite smile. "Thanks."

He chose a spot near the window — away from the bar, dimly lit, with a small candle flickering on the table. The leather seat creaked as he sat. He slipped his bag off his shoulder, placed it beside him, then just... sat there.

The club moved around him. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose and fell like passing waves. A couple danced slowly near the back, their silhouettes swaying in the soft amber light.

Noel didn’t notice any of it.

He sat with his hands clasped loosely in front of him, eyes on the entrance.

A drink was set gently on his table not long after — soda, no ice.

From the bartender.

"You look like you’re thinking too loud," he said before walking off again.

Noel gave a tight smile. He didn’t touch the drink.

His gaze flicked down to the table for a second, then toward the glowing phone screen in his hand — no new messages, just the clock ticking past 6:22 p.m.

He turned the screen off and looked back at the door.

Still no sign of him.

His leg bounced once. Then stilled.

He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear.

But he knew he didn’t want to go another night not knowing what they were to each other.

He didn’t know what he’d say. Only that he wasn’t leaving without hearing Luca’s voice—without knowing if there was still a "them" left to hold on to.

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