Luca came back from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel around his neck.
The scent of mint and something clean followed him.
Noel was still sitting on his bed, laptop closed, lights dimmed low—just enough for the warm hue of the desk lamp to draw soft shadows across his face.
Luca dropped the towel on his chair and glanced at Noel. "Still thinking about it?"
Noel looked up slowly. "Maybe."
Luca laughed under his breath. "You say that like it's a no."
"It's a maybe," Noel corrected, voice calm, unreadable.
Luca raised both hands in surrender. "Okay. I'll take maybe."
Noel lay back again, this time fully stretched out on the bed. "You really liked the movie, huh?"
"Yeah," Luca replied, dropping into his bed, arms behind his head. "It's got that slow-burn thing I like.
The kind of story that doesn't rush. Lets everything unfold."
Noel glanced at him, curious. "Like life?"
Luca turned his head on the pillow to meet his gaze. Maybe like people," he said. "The ones who say less but carry more in silence.
The silence between them deepened. Not heavy—just present.
Noel shifted on his bed, his fingers absentmindedly brushing his blanket.
"You always like stories like that?" he asked.
Luca nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think... it feels more real. Messy. Beautiful in a quiet kind of way. I don't know."
Noel watched him, his voice softer now. "You don't seem like the quiet type."
Luca chuckled. "That's because you met me after the noise."
A beat passed. Luca sat up, brushing his hair back. "You know," he said, reaching for his phone again. "I used to go to the movies a lot. With someone."
Noel's gaze stayed steady. "Kian?"
Luca didn't look surprised at the guess. He smiled faintly.
"Yeah. He always picked the film. I just tagged along. Didn't really care what we watched."
Noel was silent for a moment, then asked—barely above a whisper, "And now?"
Luca looked at him. "Now I want to watch something with someone. Not just beside them."
Noel's chest tightened—unexpected, sudden.
Their eyes lingered. Just the soft hum of the night outside, and the quiet buzz of something unspoken in the room.
Noel finally shifted again, resting his head on his arm. "...If we go," he said slowly, "I'm not eating popcorn."
Luca's face broke into a grin. "Deal. But you are sharing nachos."
Noel sighed. "You're impossible."
Luca leaned back, content. "And yet... still here."
The stillness returned, but this time it felt shared. Closer. Something shared.
Noel closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
Maybe it was slow-burn.
But maybe... it was beginning to catch fire.
The silence between them settled like mist — not cold, not distant.
Just there. Breathing between two boys who didn't quite know how to name the feeling, but felt it anyway.
Luca was sprawled on his bed, one leg dangling slightly off the edge, arms tucked beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling.
The dim light cast golden shadows on the slope of his cheekbone, and his chest rose and fell with a calm rhythm.
Noel hadn't spoken in a while. Now he lay on his side, head nestled into the pillow, eyes quietly studying the outline of Luca's face—like a sketch he wasn't ready to erase.
He wasn't sure when he'd started doing that—watching him without meaning to. But tonight it was different. It wasn't curiosity. It wasn't caution.
It was something gentler. More intentional.
Luca shifted slightly, and his voice broke the stillness—low, almost tired.
"You ever think about what it'd be like if things were just… easy?"
Noel blinked. "Easy?"
"Yeah," Luca said, still looking at the ceiling. "No mixed signals. No second guessing. You just say what you feel. And the other person says it back."
Noel swallowed. "You sound like you've been thinking about this a lot."
Luca smiled, eyes soft. "Only every night."
Noel looked down at the blanket between his hands, fingers curling in and out of the fabric.
"I think if it were that easy," he said slowly, "we'd ruin it."
Luca turned his head toward him, brow furrowed gently.
"Why?"
"Because…" Noel hesitated, then met his gaze. "Things we get too easily, we take for granted. But the ones we wait for—work for—they stay with us."
Luca held his eyes. And for a long breath, neither of them said anything.
Then Luca whispered, "You're something else, you know that?"
Noel gave a small smile. "I hear that a lot."
Luca laughed quietly—almost a breath, almost a sigh. "Goodnight, Noel."
Noel's voice dropped to a hush. "Goodnight, Luca."
Luca turned to his side, back to Noel now. The air shifted again—cooler, quieter.
And yet somehow, the room felt full.
Noel closed his eyes, one last glance at Luca before he did.
And in the dark, nothing moved.
But something had shifted—in the air, between them, and in the quiet space where words hadn't dared go yet.
Sunday Morning
The sunlight stretched lazily through the narrow dorm window, painting long golden lines across the floor. The kind of light that asked nothing but to be noticed.
Noel stirred first, eyes fluttering open to the quiet hum of the morning. The clock read 8:07 a.m., and for once, there was no alarm, no rush, no lecture waiting on the other side of the door.
Just stillness.
He blinked slowly, adjusting to the calm. Then, with practiced quiet, he turned on his side.
Luca's bed was already empty.
Noel pushed himself up slightly, confused. His blanket still looked warm, like he'd just left.
The faint smell of body wash still clung to the air. Fresh. Recent.
He ran a hand through his hair and yawned, stretching his limbs slowly, deliberately. His laptop sat untouched at his desk. His phone blinked once.
One New Message
From: Luca
7:43 AM
Went for a run. You were sleeping like the dead. Be back with coffee if the universe is kind to me.
Noel huffed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He set the phone down and swung his legs over the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood.
The dorm was quiet except for the distant sound of birds outside, and the soft buzz of someone's laundry machine down the hall.
He padded over to the window and cracked it open just enough for the morning breeze to sneak in—cool and clean, carrying the smell of dew-soaked grass and pavement.
He stood there for a while, arms crossed loosely, watching the leaves shift in slow motion.
Something about this morning felt different. Not loud, not overwhelming. Just… simple.
And maybe that's why it felt so unfamiliar.
Noel turned from the window, glancing once more at Luca's bed. A part of him expected to find it messy, sheets half-off and pillow on the floor. But it wasn't. Luca had made it.
It caught Noel off guard more than it should have.
He went to freshen up, still thinking about that message—about how easily it had made him smile.
He stared at the message a moment longer, thumb hovering over the screen.
It wasn't the words. It was being thought of—without asking.
He set the phone down gently, like it held something fragile.