The group faded into the distance, their laughter trailing behind like a soft echo. Emily stood still for a moment, her hands casually resting on her hips.
Luca leaned against the low brick wall beside her, arms crossed, eyes flicking from the retreating figures to Emily's face with a lazy smirk.
"Well," he drawled, "that was subtle."
Emily didn't even blink. "Was it?"
He let out a short laugh. "You looked like you just found your next obsession. I half expected you to ask for her star sign and blood type."
"I don't need her blood type," Emily said coolly, brushing invisible lint off her top. "I just need her number. That's step one."
Luca's grin widened. "You're not even going to deny it?"
"Why should I?" she shot back, eyes sparkling. "You saw her, right?"
He snorted. "Yeah, Lina. Quiet. Sharp. Probably the kind who keeps a blade in her purse and a bookmark in her hand."
Emily's gaze lingered on where Lina had walked off. "Exactly my type."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "You think you've got a chance with her?"
I know I do." Emily turned to face him, gaze steady.You believe in love at first sight, Luca?
Luca gave her a long look. "Not really."
She smiled, slow and confident. "Then you haven't met the right person yet."
Luca laughed again, shaking his head as he stood up straight. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm romantic," she corrected. "And efficient. I don't wait around when I see something I want."
He shoved his hands in his pockets, still grinning. "You're gonna scare her off."
"She doesn't scare easy," Emily said without missing a beat. "I saw it in her eyes. She's just not used to being chased."
Luca tilted his head. "And you're the chasing kind?"
Emily smirked. "Only when it's worth it."
He let out a low whistle. "You're in deep already."
She looked off toward the path again, her smile softening just a touch. "Maybe. But don't worry—this isn't your love story, Luca. Just try not to get in the way."
Luca held up his hands, amused. "Wouldn't dream of it."
By then, the quad had emptied out, and somewhere across campus, other stories were unfolding—quiet, like footsteps on library carpet.
The cool air hummed with the low murmur of students shuffling in and out, arms full of books, minds already halfway through deadlines.
By the time they reached the campus library, the late afternoon sun was casting long, drowsy shadows across the walkways.
Noel adjusted his bag as they stepped inside. The scent of old pages and quiet concentration welcomed them like a familiar friend. Lina walked beside him, her shoulder brushing Alex's as they entered.
"I still can't believe you figured out that matrix problem so fast," Alex said, nudging Noel playfully. "You're like... the math whisperer or something."
Noel gave a small shrug, but there was the ghost of a smile on his face. "It wasn't that hard. You just had the order wrong."
"You could've just let me stay wrong," Alex teased. "I was kind of enjoying the spiral."
Lina rolled her eyes with a smile. "You two sound like an old couple."
Noel blinked, then coughed softly. "Please don't start that rumor."
Alex laughed. "Right, wouldn't want to ruin your quiet nerd reputation."
They reached a corner table tucked between tall shelves. It was cozy—just enough space for the three of them and a pile of notes.
As they settled in, Alex took the chair across from Noel while Lina sat beside him, already flipping open a worn notebook. Her pen tapped softly against the page as she looked over her notes.
Noel pulled out his laptop and glanced up. "So... are we doing the problem set or are we just here to gossip about everyone on campus?"
Alex held up his hands. "Work first. Gossip later. I promised to be productive for once."
Lina leaned closer to Noel and whispered, "He always says that."
Noel smirked faintly. "I'm not surprised."
Their laughter was soft, easy. Outside, the sky deepened into warmer hues.
Inside, between soft page turns and quiet conversations, something steady and safe settled between them—an ordinary moment stitched with gentle threads of friendship.
The quiet hum of the library surrounded them like a soft cocoon—pages rustling, pens scratching, the occasional whisper from a nearby table.
The trio worked in tandem: Noel typing methodically on his laptop, Alex flipping between two textbooks with exaggerated sighs, and Lina highlighting notes with quiet precision.
Occasionally, Alex would break the silence with some offhand comment—usually something mildly dramatic like, "Why do professors hate us?" or "If I fail, I'm blaming you, Noel."
Lina didn't look up. "Try reading the instructions first next time."
Each time, Noel would respond with a dry remark, and Lina would roll her eyes, hiding a laugh behind her hand.
At some point, Lina rested her chin in her palm, glancing at the dimming light outside the window. "It's getting dark."
Alex checked his phone, his eyes widening slightly. "Whoa. It's 7:57 already?"
Noel blinked and looked at his screen. "We've been here over two hours."
"That's practically a miracle," Alex said, stretching his arms over his head. "I think I deserve a medal. Or snacks."
Lina chuckled, snapping her notebook shut. "You deserve a cookie. A small one."
"Half a cookie," Noel added without looking up.
Alex clutched his chest. "The betrayal."
They all smiled.
Noel closed his laptop and started organizing his things. "We should probably wrap it up. It's getting late."
"Yeah," Lina said, slipping her pen into the spiral of her notebook. "I have to wake up early tomorrow anyway."
As they stood and gathered their things, the ease of the evening lingered between them—quiet, comfortable, like something small and good was being built, even if none of them said it out loud.
They didn't have to.
The night breeze followed Noel as he made his way back to the dorm. His bag hung loosely on one shoulder, and the weight of the day sat somewhere behind his eyes.
Campus lights flickered overhead, the soft thrum of student life beginning to fade as curfew crept closer.
He climbed the stairs with practiced ease, fingers already reaching into his pocket for the keycard.
Click.
The door eased open.
And there—right on cue—Luca stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his waist, steam trailing behind him like mist from a freshly broken dream.
His silver-gray hair clung damply to his forehead, water droplets trailing down his chest and dripping slowly off the sharp lines of his abs.
The faint smell of Luca's body wash—cool, citrusy, with a twist of spice—hovered in the air.
Noel froze. His breath caught—ridiculous, he told himself—but still, there it was. Heat pricked beneath his collar before he masked it with a blink.
Luca glanced up casually, one brow raised as he reached for his shirt from the back of a chair. "Oh hey. You're back."
Noel cleared his throat, stepping inside and setting his bag by the bed like nothing had happened. "Obviously."
Luca grinned, towel shifting slightly as he ran a hand through his wet hair. "Don't act like you didn't miss me."
Noel didn't respond.
He couldn't.
His eyes were firmly on the floor as he toed off his shoes, but his ears were warm, and his mind... well, it was definitely not on his assignments anymore.
Noel tossed his phone onto the bed and sank down beside it, exhaling deeply.
His legs stretched out across the mattress as he lay back, eyes tracing the dull lines of the ceiling, letting the silence settle.
Behind him, Luca was still rustling through drawers, likely looking for a clean shirt—or pretending not to notice the way Noel had avoided eye contact.
The room smelled faintly of steam and shampoo. And Luca.
Noel closed his eyes for a moment, just long enough for his heartbeat to settle.
Then he sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm taking a shower," he muttered, grabbing his towel and toiletries.
Luca flopped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. "Don't take too long. I might start monologuing from loneliness."
Noel didn't bother with a reply. He padded to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
Steam was still clinging to the mirror. He turned on the water and let it run, his fingers brushing the condensation away.
As he stripped off his clothes, Noel caught a glimpse of himself—flushed cheeks, faintly ruffled hair, and a pair of eyes that looked like they were thinking too much.
The water hit his skin in a warm rush, but it did little to wash away the image of Luca—shirtless, dripping, grinning.
Noel let out a long breath, tilting his head back under the stream.
Why does sharing a room with him suddenly feel like crossing some invisible line?