CHAPTER 133: NOT THE END

The bistro was tucked just far enough off the main road to feel like a secret.

Dim pendant lights swung gently overhead, casting soft glows on worn wood tables.

The clink of silverware and quiet murmur of conversation filled the space—not loud, not rushed. Just right.

They slid into a booth near the window.

Luca dropped his bag to the side and leaned back like he’d been holding in tension for hours.

Noel took the seat across from him, his fingers lightly brushing the menu though his eyes weren’t on it.

"Feels weird," Noel murmured.

"What does?" Luca asked, already glancing at the drinks list.

"Not being judged," he said. "Or measured. Or... scanned."

Luca looked up, one brow raised. "You think they stopped measuring the moment we walked out?"

Noel smiled faintly. "Don’t ruin it for me."

"Fair." Luca tapped his knuckles once on the table. "Still... you did great."

"You keep saying that," Noel said, peeking up. "Almost like you mean it."

"I do," Luca said, no teasing in his voice this time.

Noel didn’t reply right away.

A waiter appeared, took their order—two iced teas, one grilled chicken salad, and a pasta dish Luca claimed would "change the trajectory of Noel’s day." Then they were alone again.

Outside, people passed by with bags and briefcases and coffee cups. In here, time softened.

Luca leaned forward slightly, fingers playing with the glass of his water. "Be honest," he said. "Were you nervous?"

"Terrified," Noel admitted. "Thought I’d trip walking into the room."

"You didn’t," Luca said. "You walked in like you’d been there before."

"You?" Noel asked. "You looked cool. Calm. Like this was just your warm-up lap."

Luca gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, well. I was sweating through my shirt."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"That’s the idea," Luca said, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

There was a pause. Not awkward—just full.

"I’m glad we did this," Noel said after a moment. "Together."

Luca looked up again. This time, he held the gaze.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

Their drinks arrived first, beads of condensation already slipping down the tall glasses like quiet reminders of summer.

Luca took a long sip, leaned back, and let out a dramatic sigh. "God, that tastes like freedom."

Noel raised an eyebrow, straw between his fingers. "You’ve been free all morning."

"Mentally? No." Luca’s voice dropped, theatrical. "I’ve been held hostage by Mr. Jeff’s laser eyes and that boardroom’s industrial-grade AC."

"You?" Noel tilted his head, smirking. "Cold? Didn’t think that was possible."

Luca narrowed his eyes, then smiled slow. "Careful. I bite."

"You threatened to bite me last week, too," Noel replied, lips curving. "You’re getting predictable."

"I wasn’t joking last week," Luca said, voice a little lower now.

Before Noel could answer, their food arrived—two plates, one fragrant, the other picture-perfect.

Luca’s pasta glistened under soft lighting, curls of steam rising with the scent of garlic and something buttery.

Noel’s grilled chicken salad looked so curated it could’ve been framed—fresh greens, grilled marks perfectly seared, slices of avocado arranged with surgical precision.

Luca wasted no time, twirling his fork like he was conducting an orchestra. "Watch closely. This—" he tapped the edge of his bowl "—is the taste of victory."

"You say that about every meal," Noel said, picking up his fork. "Last week it was a chicken wrap."

"And I was right then too. I have an extremely healthy relationship with food."

"You’re in love with food."

"And proud of it. Zero shame," Luca said through a mouthful.

A few minutes passed in easy silence, broken only by clinks of cutlery and soft hums of satisfaction.

Noel stole a glance at Luca’s plate—then, wordlessly, reached across with his fork and swiped a bite.

Luca looked up, betrayed. "Excuse me?"

"You weren’t guarding it."

"I was giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"You’re lucky I’m not a fan of cream sauce."

"You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood."

Noel chewed slowly, then smiled. "You’re always in a forgiving mood after pasta."

Luca pointed his fork like a warning. "Careful. Forgiveness has limits."

"Not with you," Noel said quietly, but not too quiet.

Luca met his eyes for a beat, then looked away with a faint smile and kept eating—like nothing happened, but something had.

Noel set his fork down, leaning back with a quiet breath. "Okay. That was criminally good."

Luca was still picking at the last strands of pasta, unwilling to admit defeat. "See? I told you. Taste of victory."

"You’re starting to sound like a walking food blog."

"Flattering," Luca murmured. "Except I wouldn’t blog. I’d vlog. Face like this? Waste not."

Noel gave him a sideways look. "Modest."

"Painfully."

The hum of soft music and low conversation filled the space around them, the kind of late-afternoon lull that made time stretch longer than it should.

Outside, the sun had softened—no longer blazing, just warm enough to paint gold along the sidewalk.

Luca tapped his glass, watching a bead of water roll down its side. "You know..." he began, tone thoughtful, "this might be the calm before a storm."

Noel didn’t bite at first. He just sipped the last of his drink, studying Luca like he could see where that sentence was headed.

"You’re not going to spiral into a ’what is life’ monologue again, are you?" he finally said.

Luca chuckled under his breath. "No promises."

A quiet pause followed, but not an awkward one—just the kind that says we’ve said enough for now.

Luca pushed his chair back and stood, stretching slightly. "Alright. Let’s roll before I order dessert and ruin my streak."

"Your streak of pretending to eat healthy?" Noel asked, getting up too.

"My streak of pretending I’m not already full," Luca said, patting his stomach dramatically.

They stepped outside into the early evening air. It was softer now—cooler, with that gentle rustle of leaves and the faint scent of something sweet from a nearby flower shop.

Their shadows stretched out behind them as they walked, not in a hurry, just... going.

Noel shoved his hands into his pockets. "You know, for a spontaneous lunch, that hit the spot."

Luca nodded. "It was either that or crying into leftover coffee in your kitchen."

"Glad we upgraded."

They kept walking, side by side. Not quite brushing shoulders—but close enough.

By the time they reached the dorm building, the sky had shifted again—now laced with streaks of coral and lilac, the kind of sunset that didn’t need an audience but got one anyway.

Luca reached for the front door, then paused when Noel’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Noel glanced down at the screen and slowed his steps. "It’s my mom," he murmured, already swiping to answer.

Luca stepped aside, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He didn’t lean or fidget—just stood still, staring out at the fading sky like it could offer him something to hold on to.

"Hi, Mom," Noel said, voice softening. He listened for a beat, then smiled faintly. "Yeah... yeah, I’m good. Just got back from lunch."

Another pause.

"The exam?" He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the sky. "It went okay. I didn’t mess it up, I promise."

Luca’s jaw tensed slightly. He wasn’t eavesdropping—at least not on purpose—but the words clung to the air, uninvited and unavoidable.

"I know," Noel said gently. "Yeah, I’m coming home tomorrow. Early. I’ll text you once I’m on the road."

Luca blinked once, then looked down, his shoe nudging a tiny crack in the pavement.

His lips parted like he might say something, but nothing came.

"No, I’m not alone," Noel added quickly. "I’m with a friend."

Luca’s eyes flicked up at that. He didn’t smile.

Noel gave him a quick little shrug, almost apologetic, then said into the phone, "Yeah, I’ll call you before bed. Love you too."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

"She checking in?" Luca asked, voice lighter than his expression.

"Like clockwork," Noel said with a wry smile. "She still thinks I’ll forget how to function the moment I leave campus."

"You do forget to eat when you’re stressed."

"Yeah, and you don’t forget to remind me."

Luca huffed a small laugh, but his gaze had dropped again.

A moment passed.

"You heading back tomorrow?" Luca asked, this time softer, his tone unreadable.

Noel nodded. "Yeah. Early morning, if I can manage it."

Luca gave a shallow nod in return, his eyes skimming over Noel like he was trying to memorize him without looking too obvious.

"Long drive?"

"About three hours." He paused. "Four, if I get distracted by roadside fruit stands."

Luca’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You and your damn fruit."

Then, without saying more, Noel reached for the door and held it open.

Luca stepped through—but not before glancing back, just once, like maybe he hoped time would slow down right there on the threshold.

"You better save me a mango," he muttered.

The door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality.

Inside, the dorm room felt warmer than usual. Or maybe it was just the quiet—the kind that came after a long day when the world stopped asking questions for a while.

Noel dropped his bag by the desk and gave the place a slow once-over.

Everything looked the same, but it felt different—like the walls knew he was leaving.

Luca didn’t move to his side of the room.

He stood near the door for a beat longer than necessary, one hand still resting on the knob, the other buried in his hoodie pocket.

"You want water or something?" Noel asked, voice lighter than he felt.

"Nah," Luca said. "I’m good."

Noel nodded and moved toward the window, pushing it open just a little.

A breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of pavement and campus grass, like a subtle reminder that summer wasn’t far off.

He didn’t turn around. "So... this is the last night, huh?"

Luca shrugged. "Guess it is."

Another pause.

Noel glanced over his shoulder. "You’re acting like I’m transferring."

"You’re acting like tomorrow doesn’t suck."

That made Noel pause. His fingers gripped the windowsill a little tighter, but he didn’t answer right away.

Luca finally moved, crossing to his bed and sitting down with a quiet thump.

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking down at the floor like it had more to say than he did.

"I don’t know," Luca muttered. "It’s just... weird. Room’s gonna feel empty."

Noel turned fully now, arms folded. "You’ll have it all to yourself. No more nagging you about laundry."

"No more half-burnt toast smell at 7 a.m. either."

A smile tugged at the corner of Noel’s mouth. "You liked it."

Luca looked up then—just for a second. And yeah, there was something raw in his eyes. "Didn’t say I didn’t."

The silence stretched again, more comfortable this time.

Noel stepped closer, slow and deliberate, then dropped onto his bed across from Luca. Their knees nearly touched.

"You know I’ll be back," he said quietly. "It’s not like I’m disappearing."

Luca nodded but didn’t look convinced.

"You don’t say much when stuff matters," Noel added, almost like a challenge.

"I’m saying something now."

Noel studied him. "Are you?"

Luca met his gaze, and this time he didn’t look away. "I just... don’t want this to end."

Noel swallowed. "It’s not ending."

Luca’s voice dropped. "Feels like we’re leaving something behind."

Noel looked at him, steady. "We’re not. We’re just... carrying it forward."

Luca let that sit.

Then he stood abruptly, pacing once, like his body needed to move before his mouth could.

"You drive me insane sometimes," he said, tone rough but not unkind. "Your music’s too slow, and you eat all the good cereal without asking."

Noel arched a brow, smirking. "Sounds like love."

Luca blinked. "Maybe it is."

That shut Noel up.

The words lingered in the room, neither heavy nor light—just honest. The kind that didn’t need fireworks.

Noel stood, walking over to him slowly. "Say that again."

"Don’t make it a thing."

"But it is a thing."

Luca let out a breath. "Then yeah. Maybe I do."

They stood there, inches apart, the air between them charged with everything they hadn’t said until now.

Noel reached out, fingers brushing against Luca’s hoodie sleeve. "I don’t want this to end either."

Luca’s jaw twitched.

Noel smiled, small but sure. "Come on. We’ve got one more night."

Luca looked at him for a long second, then nodded—once, like he was agreeing to something neither of them had fully figured out yet.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Let’s make it count."

Noel pulled open the closet and stared at the jumble of clothes still hanging like he hadn’t packed at all.

He let out a breath. "I thought I already did most of this..."

Luca peeked over his shoulder and scoffed. "Seriously? This is your version of packed?"

Noel turned, raising an eyebrow. "You literally live out of a laundry pile, don’t judge me."

"Yeah, but my mess has... rhythm."

Noel gave him a look. "That doesn’t even make sense."

"Exactly," Luca said, grinning—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He plopped down by the suitcase, already open and half-full.

For someone whose own bed usually looked like it had been in a fight, Luca folded Noel’s clothes surprisingly neatly.

"You sure this isn’t your first time?" Noel asked, watching the careful way Luca smoothed out a t-shirt before placing it down.

Luca shrugged without looking up. "I’m messy with my stuff. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be careful."

That hit deeper than it should’ve. Noel hesitated, then quietly handed him another shirt.

"So... what, you’ve been sneaking in here to clean up after me?"

"Not clean. Just..." Luca scratched his temple. "Sometimes your chair looks like it’s about to collapse under all your clothes. I saved it."

Noel laughed. "You do care."

Luca smirked. "Don’t get used to it."

They worked in quiet rhythm after that. Noel passed clothes.

Luca folded. Clumsy in everything else, but not in this.

When they were down to the last few socks, Noel said softly, "You don’t have to help, you know."

"I know."

"Then why are you?"

Luca paused, one sock balled loosely in his hand. "Because I want to."

Noel looked at him for a second too long, then turned back to the suitcase. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

A beat.

Luca zipped the suitcase closed with a final pull. "So that’s it?"

Noel nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Luca stood up, staring at the bag like it might grow legs and walk out on its own.

He sighed. "This is dumb."

"What?"

"That you’re leaving."

Noel nudged his shoulder gently. "It’s not forever."

Luca didn’t move. "Still feels like it."

Noel gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’ll text you, everyday."

"You better," Luca said. Then added, almost under his breath, "And maybe actually reply for once."

"I’ll reply. Promise."

They stood there for a moment, not moving. Not yet

Then Luca said, a little rough, "You’re forgetting something."

Noel blinked. "What?"

Luca reached under the desk and pulled out a charger. "Unless you want your phone to die halfway home."

Noel laughed. "You’d love that."

Luca smirked. "Yeah. Then you’d have to come back sooner."

Noel took the charger, their fingers brushing. Neither pulled away immediately.

"I’m coming back," Noel said.

Luca nodded. "I’ll be here."

And that was it.

Luca smirked faintly. "Guess this goodbye tastes like freedom too."

Noel met his eyes. "Then why does it feel like leaving home?"

They let the silence settle. But it wasn’t empty—it held something unspoken, something that didn’t need words.

Not yet.