The door clicked shut behind Luca, and silence followed.
Noel stood still for a second, eyes fixed on the space Luca had just occupied.
Then he turned, grabbed the dish towel again, and folded it neatly—once, twice, unnecessarily precise.
He placed it down, then sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, screen blank.
A soft exhale escaped him.
So, Kian.
The name settled in his chest like a weight he hadn't agreed to carry.
He didn't know much—just enough to understand that Kian wasn't just some random friend.
There was a weight in Luca's voice when he said the name, a subtle shift Noel had picked up on immediately.
He leaned back against the wall, one leg pulled up, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.
His feed was filled with study memes, art references, a few texts from Alex. He barely registered them.
His mind kept circling back.
Luca doesn't talk like that with most people.
He's usually casual, borderline reckless.
But the way he answered that call—it was careful. Like he didn't want to say too much. Like there was history he hadn't shared.
Noel frowned, suddenly annoyed at himself.
He told himself it didn't matter. Just a roommate. Just a name. But the silence left behind said otherwise.
Yet the room felt colder without Luca in it.
Noel tossed the phone aside and stood abruptly. His side of the room was already clean, books stacked and organized, clothes folded.
But he began rearranging the shelf anyway—alphabetizing it again, even though it already was.
Anything to keep his hands busy.
Anything to keep from wondering what Luca and Kian were talking about.
Who Kian was to him.
Who Luca had been before he ever stepped into this room.
As he reached for the last book, his fingers paused on a spine Luca had borrowed weeks ago. He hadn't returned it. He probably forgot.
Noel picked it up. A folded sticky note was tucked inside the front cover.
It wasn't his.
In Luca's messy, almost illegible scrawl, it read:
"Good book. Didn't expect to like it. You've got taste, Clean Freak."
Noel stared at the note, lips twitching slightly.
Damn him. Even when he wasn't here, he was still taking up space in his head.
He slid the note back in, closed the book, and placed it neatly on the shelf.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he sat back down, pulled out his laptop, and opened his assignment.
The cursor blinked on the empty page, but his mind remained elsewhere.
He told himself he didn't care.
But when he glanced at the time again—and realized Luca had been gone for almost an hour—he couldn't help wondering.
What exactly did Kian want?
Noel tapped his screen, refreshing his feed without much thought.
His thumb hovered lazily as he scrolled past a few updates—classmates at cafes, blurry party photos, a cat meme he'd already seen three times.
Then he saw it.
Alex had posted a photo.
It was from earlier that day—taken just outside the library before they'd gone in.
The lighting was soft, almost golden, catching the corner of Lina's smile and the way Alex was leaning in with that wide, easy grin.
Noel stood slightly to the side, hands in his pockets, expression neutral as always.
But something about the candidness of it—the balance, the color, the comfort—made it feel warmer than any group photo he'd seen in a while.
The caption read:
"Good study crew today (One of us definitely carried… thanks, Noel)"
Noel exhaled softly through his nose. A chuckle, if he'd admit it.
He tapped the little paper plane icon and shared it to his story.
No caption. Just the photo. That was enough.
His thumb hovered, just for a second—caught between the impulse to keep the moment and the fear of wanting too much from it.
Something about the way they all looked together made him feel… included.
Like he hadn't just been tagging along.
Like he belonged.
His heart softened, just a little.
The corner of his mouth twitched again—brief, rare, almost a smile.
He locked his phone and let it rest on his chest, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.
Luca was still out.
Kian still lingered at the back of his mind like a half-remembered song.
But for now, in this small moment of quiet, Noel allowed himself to feel something simple.
Contentment.
The restaurant buzzed with low conversations, candlelight glinting off wine glasses.
The smell of rosemary and grilled butter hung in the air, but Luca's plate remained untouched.
Luca sat across from Kian, one elbow on the table, the other hand holding his phone. His plate sat mostly untouched.
Kian had barely said a word.
He didn't need to—his eyes said enough.
He watched Luca closely, chewing slowly, as if waiting for the right moment to say something.
But Luca didn't seem to notice. His thumb was tapping across his screen, lips tugging into a slow smile.
Noel had just posted a story.
It was that picture from earlier—Noel, Alex, and Lina. Luca hadn't even known they'd taken one.
Something about it made his chest feel tight. Not in a painful way. Just… tight. Like a tether gently pulling his attention elsewhere.
He tapped a quick reply:
"Didn't know you had such photogenic friends. You look good in that one."
Sent.
Still smiling faintly to himself, Luca finally set the phone down.
Kian had stopped eating. His fork rested against the rim of his plate.
"You're smiling at your phone a lot these days," Kian said, voice careful.
Luca blinked. "Huh?"
Kian tilted his head, studying him. "Who were you texting?"
"Just… someone," Luca shrugged, grabbing his glass of water. "A friend."
Kian leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. "A friend who makes you smile like that?"
Luca didn't answer immediately. He took a sip, then placed the glass down with a soft clink.
"You didn't ask me to come all the way here just to play twenty questions, did you?"
"I asked because I missed you," Kian replied, honest and direct. "And I was hoping we could talk—really talk."
Luca met his gaze. The smile faded slightly, but not completely.
"I'm listening," he said, but his phone buzzed again on the table. His eyes flicked toward it instinctively.
Kian noticed. Of course he did.
"You don't seem like you are."
Kian's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away.
"Luca," he said slowly, voice dipping just enough to quiet the space between them, "I asked to meet because I've been thinking about us."
Luca leaned back, eyes flicking toward the window briefly, then back at Kian. "Us?"
"You know what I mean."
Kian pushed his plate slightly to the side, his fingers locking together on the table. "I miss how we used to be.
The late night calls. The way we could just… get each other without trying. You were my favorite person, Luca."
Luca's gaze softened, but his lips pressed into a faint line.
"You were mine too," he admitted quietly. "Still are, in a way."
Kian's face lit up just slightly—just enough to show hope. "Then why are you pulling back?"
Luca didn't answer immediately. He picked up his fork, poked once at the edge of his plate, then dropped it again. His voice came out lower, more cautious.
"I'm not pulling back. I'm just… thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"About how I feel when I'm around you now." He ran a hand through his hair, then looked directly at Kian.
"It's not like it was. I still care about you. A lot. But there's a difference between missing someone and wanting them back."
Kian inhaled slowly, his smile fading into something more careful. "So you don't want me back?"
Luca looked away again. He didn't answer—not yet.
His phone buzzed once more. He didn't check it this time, but the distraction was telling. Kian noticed.
"Is this about that guy? The one you're always texting?" he asked.
Luca turned back to him, eyes calm, but unreadable. "It's not about anyone. Not really. It's just... I'm not the same person I was before."
Kian leaned forward, voice firm now. "Then tell me who you are now, Luca. Because I want to understand. I want to know if there's still a place for me."
Luca's fingers curled around the edge of the table. His expression softened—but there was a hesitation there, something that wasn't there before. Not when it came to Kian.
He spoke quietly, almost like it was an admission.
"I don't know yet."
Kian's lips parted like he was about to speak again, but then he paused, his fingers flexing where they rested on the table.
The silence between them stretched—thick, uncomfortable.
Not the kind that used to be easy, the kind they'd share in late-night diners or parked cars, with music humming low and nothing needing to be said.
This silence was different.
"You used to tell me everything," Kian finally said, voice low and steady, but frayed around the edges. "When did that stop?"
Luca's jaw tensed. "I don't know. Maybe when I realized I was always the one chasing your attention."
Kian blinked, startled. "What?"
"You liked being adored, Kian," Luca murmured. "And I was always there—ready, waiting.
But I think I started wondering if you liked me back… or just liked the version of yourself you saw reflected in my eyes."
Kian looked stunned. For a second, he didn't speak—just stared across the table, the words hitting like a slow wave.
"That's not fair," Kian whispered. His voice was low, but the sting was real—because a part of him knew it was.
"No," Luca agreed softly, "it's not. And maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe I'm bitter, or scared, or just… tired. I don't know.
But I know I've changed. And lately, I keep thinking about things differently. About what I want, who makes me feel seen."
"And it's not me?" Kian asked.
Luca looked up at him then—really looked. His eyes were gentle, but honest. The kind of honesty that doesn't spare pain.
"I think a part of me will always love you," he said. "But maybe not in the way you need. Not anymore."
Kian didn't respond at first. He blinked quickly, swallowing hard. He looked away, jaw clenched tight as if holding something back.
After a long beat, he said quietly, "You're still my favorite person."
Luca smiled, just barely.
"Maybe that's the problem," he said. "I want to be someone's choice… not their favorite comfort."
Kian closed his eyes, just for a second. Then nodded.
There was no dramatic exit. No storming out. Just two people sitting across from each other, realizing the space between them wasn't filled with possibility anymore—but quiet acceptance.
Luca looked down at his phone again. This time, he didn't smile. He just sighed.
And Kian? He sat there, hands still, eyes fixed on a plate gone cold—realizing some goodbyes don't need words to be final.