CHAPTER 165: LUCA JR. AND THE PARENTS WHO DON’T EXIST

Noel scratched behind the cat’s ear, a wide, triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Luca Jr. It’s perfect. Same grumpy eyes. Same habit of sulking when he’s ignored. Honestly, it’s uncanny."

The cat purred louder, curling deeper into Noel’s lap as if in full agreement.

Luca folded his arms, his frown sharp though the tips of his ears flushed pink. "I am not walking around calling a cat ’me’."

"Why not?" Noel’s voice was light and teasing. "You don’t see it? He literally just sighed at me exactly like you do when I steal your blanket."

"I don’t sigh. I breathe. There’s a difference."

Noel tilted his head, biting back laughter. "You sulk-breathe, Luca. Exactly like this guy." He pointed as the cat rolled onto its back with theatrical flair.

Luca pinched the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable. Out of all the names in the world—"

"Exactly!" Noel cut in, eyes sparkling. "That’s why it’s destiny. Luca Jr. and Luca Sr. Finally reunited."

"Stop calling me Sr. I’m not his father."

Noel leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Then you’re his mom."

Luca groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "No way. If anyone’s the mom here, it’s you. I’m the dad."

"Excuse me?" Noel arched a brow in mock offense. "I found him. That makes me the dad. You? You’re definitely the mom."

The cat meowed right then, as if casting its vote, and Noel pointed triumphantly. "See? Even Luca Jr. agrees."

Luca’s lips twitched, fighting against a smile. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re officially a parent." Noel smirked, stroking the cat like he’d just won a trophy. The creature blinked up at them from his lap, purring as though it already owned them both.

"Obviously, I’m the dad," Noel declared, chin tilted with mock authority. "I’m taller, wiser, more mature—"

"You?" Luca cut in, sharp as ever. "You cook. Moms cook. Not dads. So congratulations, you’re the mom."

Noel’s mouth fell open. "Since when does cooking define parenthood? If anything, it means I’m providing. That’s dad energy."

"Wrong," Luca said flatly, crossing his arms. "You’re nurturing. You fuss when people skip meals. You nag when I don’t drink water. Classic mom behavior."

Noel gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as if wounded. "Nag? I call it caring."

"Mom," Luca repeated, a smirk finally breaking free.

"You just don’t want the responsibility," Noel shot back, eyes narrowing playfully. "Fine. Then you’re the mom."

"Absolutely not." Luca shook his head so hard his hair fell into his eyes. "I’m the dad. Firm, disciplined, in control."

"Disciplined?" Noel laughed, leaning forward. "You eat cookies before bed and leave socks everywhere. That’s not discipline—that’s chaos."

The cat meowed again, rolling onto its back between them as if thoroughly entertained.

"See? Even he agrees," Noel said quickly, scratching the cat’s belly.

Luca crouched down, voice low and smug. "He just wants food. Like you. Mom."

"Unbelievable," Noel muttered, though the corners of his mouth curved upward despite himself. His hand slowed on the cat’s fur, and after a beat, he added more softly, "You know what? It doesn’t matter who’s the mom or the dad."

That quiet note hung between them for a moment, gentler than the bickering that came before.

The cat purred louder, bridging the silence as if sealing a truce.

Noel leaned back, triumphant. Arms folded, like he’d just won a war. "So, it’s settled. I’m the dad."

Luca huffed, dragging a hand through his hair, but the smirk tugging at his mouth gave him away. "Fine. Then I’m the mom. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Noel said, grinning wider. He leaned down to nudge the cat. "Hear that? You’ve got a dad and a mom now. Lucky thing."

The cat purred, stretching lazily between them. Their laughter softened, tapering into a warm and comfortable silence—the kind that belonged to people who finally had space to breathe together.

Noel broke it first, his voice thoughtful and casual. "We should go shopping tomorrow. Get all the boring necessities—kitchen stuff, toiletries, the things we’ll forget we need until it’s too late."

Luca looked at him, really looked, and for a moment his chest tightened. It wasn’t about shopping; it was about Noel saying we. It was about setting roots, even in the little things.

"Yeah," Luca said quietly, his voice losing its sharp edges. "Let’s do that." He leaned a little closer, his gaze steady. "But tonight, just rest. You came a long way, Noel. You don’t have to move so fast."

Something in Noel’s expression softened, pride flickering into vulnerability. He tilted his head, lips twitching as though he wanted to argue but couldn’t. Instead, he just whispered, "You always know how to stop me from running ahead."

"And you always know how to drag me out of my comfort zone," Luca answered, a faint smile touching his lips.

Their eyes lingered on each other, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world.

The cat yawned between them, curling back into Noel’s lap, but neither of them looked away.

Luca shifted first, sliding down against Noel until his head found that familiar spot against his chest. "I just want to recharge for the days I missed," he murmured, his voice low, almost swallowed by the quiet hum of the evening.

Noel tightened his arms around him instantly, without hesitation, as if his body had been waiting for this exact moment. "Then don’t move," he whispered, burying his chin in Luca’s hair. His hold wasn’t desperate, just steady—a quiet anchor.

The couch cradled them, soft fabric bearing the weight of their shared silence. The cat curled in the corner of the cushions, tail flicking lazily, as if it, too, approved of the peace.

Minutes slipped by—the kind of minutes neither of them wanted to measure.

Luca finally stirred, his voice breaking the stillness but not the softness. "Shall we... go and pick up my stuff before night?"

Noel didn’t open his eyes. His lips brushed Luca’s temple when he whispered, "Let’s leave it for tomorrow."

The pause stretched, and then Luca tilted his head up, eyes searching Noel’s with a flicker of mischief. "So... are we going to sleep on the couch tonight?"

A smile tugged at Noel’s mouth, slow and unhurried. He didn’t answer right away—just leaned closer, brushing his nose against Luca’s cheek, letting the question hang like a secret only they shared.

Noel’s reply came late, carried on a breath warm against Luca’s hair. "Tomorrow," he murmured. "We’ll go tomorrow. Tonight... it’s just us."

Luca hummed, the sound small and content. He didn’t push again. Instead, he melted back into Noel’s arms, letting the weight of his body sink deeper into the embrace.

The room was quiet in that way that made every heartbeat, every shift of breath, feel louder. No buzz of phones, no interruptions—only the soft brush of fabric as they moved closer, and the faint rhythm of the clock on the wall.

Noel’s fingers traced idle patterns along Luca’s arm, slow and thoughtful. "I don’t want to waste another second on screens," he said softly, as if confessing. "I want your face, your voice, your warmth. Nothing else."

Luca lifted his head just enough to look at him. There was no witty retort, no playful jab. Only the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes held Noel’s—deep, steady, unflinching.

"I missed this," Luca whispered.

Noel leaned forward, resting his forehead against his. "So did I. More than I knew how to say."

Their breaths mingled, their closeness carrying the weight of everything they hadn’t been able to share across the distance. No grand declarations, no frantic urgency. Just the gentle, unhurried act of being there—flesh against flesh, heart against heart.

The night stretched around them, not rushed, not heavy—simply theirs.

The couch had become too small for the way they curled into each other, but neither cared. Noel’s hand slipped from Luca’s arm to his waist, tugging him closer.

For a long while, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t empty—it was full, heavy with everything they hadn’t said but were now living in touch, in breath, in the way Noel’s thumb kept brushing over the fabric of Luca’s shirt as though to remind himself he was really here.

Eventually, Luca shifted, his cheek dragging along Noel’s chest before he tilted his face up. "This couch won’t forgive us in the morning," he murmured, his voice caught between teasing and sleepy.

Noel smiled quietly, his lips curving against Luca’s hair. "Then let’s not give it the chance."

He stood, keeping Luca’s hand in his, and tugged him gently along. At the bedroom door, Noel paused. The bed was made but bare, almost too new—it didn’t feel like theirs yet.

With a faint laugh under his breath, he crouched by his suitcase, unzipping it to pull out a familiar, well-worn blanket. "Can’t break in a new house without this," he said softly, shaking it out before spreading it across the bed. The fabric carried the faintest scent of home, of them.

Luca’s eyes followed the gesture, softening. "Trust you to think of the details," he murmured, his voice warm.

"Not details," Noel corrected gently, tucking the edges in. "It’s us."

They slipped under the blanket together, limbs tangling, warmth quickly spreading between them. Noel pressed a kiss against Luca’s temple and whispered, "No alarms. No calls. Just us till morning."

Luca rested his palm against Noel’s chest, steady over his heartbeat. His only reply was a content, quiet sound—the kind that belonged to someone who had finally come home.

The night folded around them like the blanket itself, soft and certain, carrying them into peace.