The rustle of pages stopped.
Noel glanced at the empty snack wrapper beside his book, expression unreadable.
He turned his head slightly—Luca was sprawled on the bed, one arm hanging off the edge, chest rising and falling in that unbothered rhythm only deep sleep could bring. Vest clinging to his torso, shoes still on.
Noel exhaled, a slow, almost automatic breath that barely escaped his lips, as if he were releasing a thread of tension he barely realized he was holding.
He set his pen down with precision, closed his book, and tugged his hoodie's cap over his head. No words. No note. Just the soft click of the door behind him.
Outside, the campus breathed a different kind of quiet. Streetlights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows on the sidewalk.
Noel walked past a group laughing near the vending machines—eyes down, hood up—ignoring the smell of smoke and the cologne drifting in the night air.
The corner store buzzed softly under flickering fluorescent lights, the faint crackle of an old pop song blending with the scent of stale chips and spilled soda.
The hum wrapped around Noel like a worn-out lullaby, barely noticed but ever-present.
He didn't hesitate—grabbed two bags of chips, a bottle of iced tea, and something sweet he didn't usually go for.
He stood at the register, hoodie still on, hands in pockets while the cashier scanned items.
Back in the dorm, Luca hadn't moved.
Noel slid the snacks into his drawer, opened the bottle with a quiet snap, and sat back at his desk. The pencil tapped once against the edge.
Then, without looking, he tossed one of the chip bags onto Luca's side of the desk.
Didn't say a word.
Just opened his own, leaned back, and started reading again.
The buzz of his phone dragged Luca out of sleep.
He groaned, blindly reaching for it on the bedside table. His eyes squinted at the screen—7:58 PM. A message blinked open: Party's on. You coming or what?
He rubbed his eyes, sat up halfway, then noticed the snack bag resting near his pillow.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. "So this is my welcoming gift?"
Noel didn't turn. "Take it or leave it.
Luca chuckled. "Thanks, roomie.
He slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom, whistling under his breath. The door shut behind him, followed by the sound of water running.
Noel flipped a page, but his eyes didn't move with it. He could hear Luca humming through the water—some upbeat song that didn't match the quiet in the room.
Minutes later, the door swung open. Luca stepped out, damp hair tousled in that careless way that still looked deliberate.
He wore a deep gray jacket—unzipped, of course—over a fitted tee, necklace resting against his collarbone.
One hand ran through his silver-dyed hair, pushing it back as he looked into his phone screen.
"Damn. I look good," he muttered to himself.
Noel glanced up briefly, eyebrows raised a fraction, then looked back down.
"You going out?" he asked without looking again.
Luca smirked. "Party, ten minutes away. Want to come?"
"Noel tapped his pencil against the book, eyes fixed on the page. 'Hard pass.'
He closed the book gently, aligning its edges with the corner of the desk until it sat perfectly parallel.
A moment passed before he reached for a plastic snack bag and smoothed the wrinkles out with deliberate fingers, the quiet crackle oddly soothing.
His movements were neat, measured—each action intentional, like he found comfort in small, quiet rituals.
"Didn't think so." Luca grabbed his cologne from his duffel, spritzed it, then turned toward the door. "Don't wait up."
"I wasn't going to," Noel replied, deadpan.
Luca laughed, genuine and amused, then disappeared down the hall.
Noel's pencil stopped tapping.
Silence settled back in.
The bass hit before he even stepped inside.
Outside the club, colored lights danced on the pavement, flickering across lines of people waiting, laughing, leaning too close to whisper in each other's ears.
Luca didn't wait—he slipped past the line, the bouncer barely sparing him a glance. He was a regular.
Inside, heat and noise swallowed him whole.
Bodies moved in waves, pressed together under pulsing lights.
The air smelled like sweat, perfume, and cheap liquor.
A remix thumped through the speakers, rattling the floor beneath his sneakers.
Luca grinned, jacket falling off one shoulder as he weaved through the crowd.
"Luca!" someone shouted from the bar.
He turned—Jordan, one of his usual party crew, waved him over, already two drinks in.
Luca made his way there, shoulder bumping into someone who smelled like trouble.
"Took you long enough," Jordan said, pushing a shot glass toward him.
"Got stuck in domestic drama," Luca replied, tossing it back without hesitation.
The burn felt good. "New room. New roommate."
"Oh? Hot?"
Luca made a face. "Cold as hell. Thinks snacks are a love language, though."
Jordan laughed. "Poor guy. Doesn't know what he's in for."
Luca didn't reply. His gaze swept the dance floor, already calculating who was new, who looked bored, who might want to forget something tonight.
Luca's laugh rang out above the noise, unfiltered and loud, but his eyes drifted over the room with a restlessness he couldn't name.
For a brief second, as people talked around him, his smile dipped—just slightly—before he grabbed another drink and threw himself back into the crowd.
He moved like he belonged—because he did. Every look he got fed him, made him feel electric.
And for a moment, he didn't think about his dad, or the damn study hall schedule, or the quiet guy back in that neat little dorm room.
Just lights, sound, and the night ahead.
The dance floor swallowed him up.
Luca's presence was like a spark—heads turned the moment he moved through the crowd, his open jacket catching the strobe lights, his silver hair slicked back in that careless way that looked accidental but wasn't.
A girl with a glittery crop top touched his shoulder. "Hey, dance with me?"
Before he could answer, another guy—tall, sharp-jawed—appeared beside him. "Or me. C'mon, Luca, you promised me a dance last time."
He gave them both a crooked smile. "Did I? I lie a lot when I drink."
They laughed. They always did.
Another drink pressed into his hand. A third body closed in behind him.
Someone tugged at his wrist, someone else whispered something against his neck. Fingers tangled in his shirt.
It was always like this—warm hands, open mouths, people craving his attention like it meant something. And for a while, it did. It made him feel... not alone.
He moved to the music like it lived in his skin. A boy with piercings tried to kiss him. A girl pouted when he stepped back. It was messy, wild, chaotic—just how he liked it.
He downed another shot. "Alright," he said to the circle of bodies around him. "Who's dragging me out of here tonight?"
Cheers went up. Someone slipped their arm around his waist. Another one whispered something promising in his ear.
But as the lights strobed across his face, his smile wavered—just for a second. No one noticed.
The bass still throbbed in his skull as Luca stumbled toward the exit, laughter fading behind him. Someone's hand clung to his wrist—soft fingers with glittered nails.
"You sure you're okay? You can come with me—my place is closer."
Her voice was syrupy, her smile inviting, but his head was heavy, spinning slightly.
Before he could answer, a firm hand slid between them.
"He's with me," Jordan said smoothly, stepping in.
The girl blinked, lips parting to argue, but Jordan was already steering Luca away, his arm wrapped around Luca's shoulders like it belonged there.
Outside, the air bit cold against his flushed skin. Luca leaned into Jordan, groaning. "Too loud in there…"
Jordan opened the car door. "Told you not to overdo it."
"I didn't." Luca grinned lazily. "I just… didn't underdo it either."
Jordan laughed, easing him into the passenger seat.
As the car started, city lights blurred through the windshield. Luca blinked at them, chest rising and falling a little slower.
"Take me back," he murmured.
Jordan glanced over. "To the dorm? You can crash at my place. It's late."
"No." His voice was softer now. "I want my bed."
"You barely made the bed."
Luca smirked, eyes half-lidded. "Still mine."
Jordan sighed but didn't push further. Minutes later, the car pulled up near the dorms. Luca leaned on him to get out, barely steady on his feet.
Inside the building, the hall was quiet, dim. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Noel had just laid down, hoodie still on, a book facedown on his chest. He heard the knock—soft but persistent. A sigh escaped him as he swung his legs off the bed and padded to the door.
The moment he cracked it open, the smell hit him.
Vodka. Sweat. Smoke.
Luca stood there, looking flushed and wrecked, eyes unfocused but still managing a crooked grin.
Beside him was Jordan, calm, composed, one hand still on Luca's back.
"Thanks, Jo. I'll see you tomorrow," Luca muttered, slipping away from Jordan's grip.
Jordan nodded once, his gaze briefly flicking to Noel—curious, unreadable—before turning away.
Luca stepped inside, unsteady but clearly trying to play it cool. "You really did wait for me," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "I'm touched."
"Noel's fingers lingered briefly on the doorframe before he closed it quietly, footsteps soft against the floor as he retreated to his bed—words caught somewhere between silence and exhaustion."I didn't," he said dryly. "Don't throw up near me."
Luca chuckled, kicked off his shoes, and flopped on the mattress with a satisfied sigh. "You say that like I've done it before."
"You look like you've done worse."
"Harsh." He rolled onto his side, staring at the ceiling. "You're kinda mean for someone who bought me snacks."
Silence stretched for a beat.
"I hate waste," Noel said, his tone unreadable.
Luca's smile lingered even as his eyes drifted shut.
"Yeah… me too."