CHAPTER 170: HOME SWEET CHAOS

The city evening carried a mellow hum—a distant, steady rush of traffic, a street vendor’s lone call fading around a corner, the rich, smoky scent of roasted corn drifting on a cool breeze.

Their shopping bags swung lightly with each step, the plastic handles creaking a soft rhythm in their grip.

"You know," Luca said after a comfortable silence, shifting the bags to one hand, "if we had taken a cab, we’d already be on the couch by now."

Noel gave him a sidelong look, the golden hour light catching the faint amusement in his eyes. "You were the one insisting on walking."

"Yeah, but you suggested it first. I just didn’t want you to think I’m lazy." Luca smirked, the tilt of his head daring Noel to challenge him.

Noel’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "You don’t need to work that hard to prove it. I’ve already noticed."

Luca nearly missed a step on the smooth pavement. "Noticed what?"

"That you’re stubborn," Noel replied smoothly, as if he’d been saving the line all afternoon.

For a second, Luca tried to muster a glare, but it melted into laughter that echoed warmly off the quiet shopfronts. "Careful, Noel. Keep talking like that and I’ll think you enjoy picking fights with me."

Noel’s gaze slid over him, measured, calm, but unmistakably warm at the edges. "Maybe I do."

The words hung between them, soft but heavy, feeling more daring than Luca’s usual brand of playfulness.

He cleared his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of the scant inches between their strides and the way Noel’s shoulder brushed his own.

"Alright," Luca said, adjusting the bag strap digging into his palm. "New deal. If I survive this walk without dropping anything, you owe me."

"Owe you what?" Noel asked, steady as ever.

"A back massage," Luca declared, eyes gleaming with triumphant mischief.

Noel’s mouth twitched. "You’re the one who chose to carry it all. Don’t complain later."

"That wasn’t a no," Luca shot back, grinning wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

Noel didn’t answer this time—just shook his head and kept walking, though the faintest, most telling smile lingered on his face.

By the time they reached their building, Luca let out a long, dramatic sigh, leaning his weight against the heavy glass door as he nudged it open with his shoulder. "Home sweet home—almost," he muttered, juggling the bags as if they were filled with lead weights.

Noel pushed the door the rest of the way and slipped inside, not even winded. "You’re exaggerating," he said, calmly pressing the elevator button for the third floor.

"Exaggerating? My fingers are practically crying," Luca insisted, lifting one hand and wiggling his reddened fingers as though the bags had done him real, lasting damage.

Noel glanced at him, utterly unimpressed. "Then why didn’t you let me carry more?"

"Because..." Luca paused, waiting for the elevator doors to slide open with a soft, welcoming chime. "Because if I let you carry everything, you’d call me weak for the rest of the week."

Noel stepped in first, his expression unreadable—but the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a reluctant, fond smile. "So you’d rather suffer than hear me tease you?"

"Exactly." Luca grinned as he followed him inside, their bags knocking gently against the mirrored elevator walls. "At least this way I can milk the sympathy later."

The elevator hummed as it carried them upward, the space quiet except for the faint buzz of the light above.

Noel’s gaze flicked to Luca’s reflection, then to the floor numbers climbing steadily. "You’re assuming I’ll give you sympathy."

"Oh, you will." Luca leaned a little closer, his voice dropping into something intimate and playful. "You’re too soft not to."

Noel’s eyes shifted to him briefly—measured, calm, but with something deep and unspoken shimmering in their depths—before the doors slid open on their floor.

They stepped out, the quiet echo of their footsteps the only sound in the carpeted hall.

Noel unlocked the apartment, pushing the door open with a quiet, familiar click.

The unique warmth of home greeted them: the faint, clean smell of wood polish, the hushed silence of a space that belonged only to them.

Luca nudged the door shut with his heel, exhaling like he’d just finished a marathon. "Finally," he murmured, dropping the bags gently onto the couch with a soft thud. "Safe and sound."

Noel set his down neatly beside the coffee table, casting a glance at him. "All that fuss for a ten-minute walk."

"Ten minutes of immense hardship," Luca corrected, flopping onto the couch like a man who had been through a great trial. "Don’t downplay my suffering."

Noel shook his head but couldn’t quite hide the fond smile finally breaking free.

Luca sprawled across the couch like a man claiming victory after a long battle, one arm flung dramatically over his forehead.

"You’d think we just marched home from war," Noel muttered, setting the last bag neatly by the wall. He crouched, tugged a bottle of water free from a grocery sack, twisted the cap, and held it out. "Here. Hydrate before you wither."

Luca cracked one eye open, his lips curving into a lazy, triumphant smirk. "Being cared for like this... it’s dangerously addicting." He sat up just enough to take the bottle, his fingers brushing deliberately against Noel’s. "Thanks, mom."

Noel arched a brow, unimpressed. "Mom?"

"Fine," Luca corrected quickly, his grin widening as he took a long, grateful sip. "Thanks, boyfriend."

The word hung in the air a moment longer than it should have, softening the space between them, making it feel smaller and warmer.

Noel busied himself with straightening another bag, pretending not to notice how Luca’s eyes lingered on him, soft and affectionate.

"Better?" Noel asked finally, his voice a low murmur.

"Only if you sit too," Luca said, patting the cushion beside him with a hopeful look. "Otherwise I’ll keep looking pitiful until you give in."

Noel surrendered with a quiet, put-upon sigh, setting the last bag aside before dropping onto the couch beside him.

The cushions dipped under his weight, pulling them closer than either bothered to adjust.

Luca shifted immediately, stretching out so his head could find its familiar place against Noel’s shoulder. "Mm. That’s better," he murmured, his voice muffled but deeply content.

"You’re shameless," Noel said, though the corner of his mouth curved as he let his arm fall casually along the backrest, his hand resting near Luca’s arm.

"Shameless and comfortable," Luca corrected, closing his eyes.

The rhythm of his breathing steadied, and for a while the only sounds in the room were the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant sigh of a car passing below, and the quiet sync of their breathing.

Noel tilted his head just enough to glance down at him.

Luca’s lashes rested dark against his cheek, the curve of his mouth relaxed and faintly amused.

It was a sight that made something warm and impossibly soft unfold in Noel’s chest.

"You’ll fall asleep if you stay like this," Noel said, his voice little more than a whisper, not wanting to break the spell.

"Then don’t move," Luca whispered back, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Problem solved."

Noel exhaled, a soft sound that was half a laugh, half pure surrender.

He leaned back deeper into the couch, letting the deep stillness of the evening settle around them like a blanket.

The cushions seemed to cradle them both, the weight of the day finally pressing down now that they’d stopped moving.

The shopping bags sat by the table, full of their new, shared life, waiting patiently.

Noel reached for the bottle of water he’d set on the table earlier, twisting the cap with one hand.

He took a sip, then offered it down toward Luca without a word.

Luca cracked one eye open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "Room service too? You’re spoiling me."

"You’ve done enough lifting today," Noel said evenly, though his voice carried a thread of undeniable warmth. "Drink."

Luca obeyed, sitting up just enough to take a sip before handing it back.

Then, with the unthinking ease of someone completely at home, he settled right back against Noel as if pulled by gravity itself.

"You really plan on turning this couch into a bed already?" Noel asked, but his tone was more amused than scolding.

"Best test drive of my life," Luca murmured, his eyes slipping shut again, his body growing heavier and more relaxed against Noel’s side. "Don’t kick me off yet. Just five minutes."

Noel huffed a quiet laugh, setting the bottle aside. "Five minutes, then."

But the silence that followed stretched comfortably, the weight of Luca against him grounding and steady.

The last of the daylight began to fade, painting the room in soft shades of blue and grey.

For a long moment, Noel forgot about the unpacking, the errands waiting at Luca’s old place, even the unopened boxes still stacked in their hallway.

The only thing that mattered was the quiet rhythm of Luca’s breath against his neck, the solid warmth of him, the profound peace of a shared stillness that felt more like home than any four walls ever could.