The dorm room was quiet, save for the soft hum of Noel's laptop and the lazy thrum of breeze blowing gently against the window.
Noel sat at his desk, posture straight, screen brightness dimmed low.
His brows were gently drawn together, mouth slightly parted as he typed with focus, the cursor flickering in rhythmic bursts.
His phone sat face-down beside the keyboard, ignored for once.
Behind him, Luca was sprawled across his bed, half-propped against the wall, phone in hand.
His chat with Jordan lit the screen in bursts—mostly memes and chaos from the club group—but his responses were slow. Delayed. Half-hearted.
His eyes kept drifting to Noel.
The boy hadn't looked up in twenty minutes.
Luca shifted, then called out with a grin laced in impatience, "Are you done yet?"
Noel didn't glance back. "Give me a minute."
"You said that ten minutes ago."
"This time I mean it."
