Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL] Chapter 295: Fear with Better Posture

Thursday morning ca too fast.

Luca woke before the alarm, staring at the ceiling in the pre-dawn darkness.

Beside him, Noel’s breathing was steady and even.

He slipped out of bed quietly, padded to the bathroom, splashed water on his face. His reflection looked back at him—calm, composed, ready.

Good. That’s what he needed people to see.

By the ti Noel woke up, Luca had coffee brewing and was buttoning his shirt—navy blue, professional, the one Noel said made him look competent.

"Morning," Noel said, voice still rough with sleep.

"Morning."

Noel studied him from the doorway. "Sleep okay?"

"Fine."

A lie, but a smooth one. Luca had learned years ago that confidence was just fear with better posture.

Show people what they expect, and they’ll believe it.

They moved through breakfast efficiently. Toast, coffee, small talk about nothing important. Luca kept his hands steady, his voice light.

"Nine thirty, right?" Noel asked.

"Yeah. Williams Hall, fourth floor this ti."

"Different room than mine."

"Bigger panel. Business departnt likes to make a show of it."

Noel rinsed his mug, set it in the sink. "You want to walk with you?"

"Nah. I’m good." Luca grabbed his bag, checked for his laptop, notes, the USB drive with his presentation backed up twice. "You’ve got that eting at ten anyway."

"I can skip it."

"Don’t." Luca crossed to him, adjusting Noel’s collar unnecessarily. "I’ll text you when I’m done."

"You’re sure?"

"Positive." He kissed him quickly. "See you later."

Outside, the morning was crisp and clear. Luca walked to campus with his hands in his pockets, mind running through his opening statent.

Consur patterns, brand loyalty, online shopping behavior.

He knew this inside and out.

The anxiety tickled at the edges of his chest—there, but quiet.

He would deal with it the way he always did: steady posture, asured words.

Williams Hall lood ahead, all brick and tall windows. Luca climbed to the fourth floor and found conference room 403.

Dr. Martinez was already inside, setting up the projector. She looked up when he entered, smiled warmly.

"Luca. Good morning."

"Morning, Dr. Martinez."

"Ready?"

"As I’ll ever be."

Dr. Webb arrived next—tall, severe-looking, always asked the hardest questions in class. Then Dr. Kim, younger, more approachable, who’d supervised Luca’s research thods course sophomore year.

"Have a seat," Martinez said, gesturing to the chair at the head of the table. "We’ll get started in just a mont."

Luca sat, pulling out his laptop. Connected it to the projector, pulled up his presentation file.

Clicked it open.

The wrong file loaded—last week’s draft, missing his revised conclusion section.

Shit.

He kept his face neutral, closed it smoothly. "Sorry, wrong file."

Kim smiled. "Happens to everyone."

Luca found the right one, opened it. Title slide appeared on the screen behind him. Better.

"Alright," Martinez said, settling into her chair. "Whenever you’re ready."

Luca took a breath. "My research examines consur brand loyalty in digital marketplace environnts, specifically analyzing how online shopping behavior differs from traditional retail patterns and what factors drive repeat purchasing decisions."

He clicked to the next slide—his research questions laid out clearly.

And he started talking.

The presentation flowed naturally at first. He walked them through his theoretical frawork, explained his thodology—surveys, purchase data analysis, statistical modeling across three different e-comrce platforms.

But sowhere around slide eight, he realized he was talking too much.

"—which correlates directly with the consur’s perceived value, influenced by price consistency, shipping reliability, service responsiveness, and—the interface experience. The easier it is to navigate, the more likely consurs are to return. My data shows even small changes—"

He paused, catching himself. Webb was making notes. Kim looked engaged but slightly overwheld.

Dial it back.

"Sorry," Luca said, offering an easy smile. "I get excited about interface design. Point is—ease of use matters. A lot."

Martinez nodded. "Continue."

He moved through his findings more carefully now, trying to give them space to absorb information between points.

His data was solid—correlation between positive custor experiences and repeat purchases, the way brand loyalty built over ti through consistent positive interactions, how one negative experience could break that loyalty faster than five positive ones could build it.

Twenty minutes in, Webb interrupted. "Your sample size here. Walk through your demographic breakdown."

Luca clicked back two slides. "Sure. I surveyed 847 consurs across three age brackets—18 to 30, 31 to 50, and 51 plus. The distribution was roughly even across brackets, with slight overrepresentation in the younger demographic which actually mirrors the general population of online shoppers."

"And you accounted for inco variables?"

"Yes. Controlled for inco, education level, and prior online shopping experience. The correlation between positive experience and repeat purchasing held across all demographic groups."

Webb made another note. "Good."

Kim jumped in next. "Your conclusion suggests that brand loyalty is more fragile online than in physical retail spaces. But couldn’t that just reflect the lower barrier to switching? In a physical store, switching ans driving sowhere else. Online, it’s just clicking a different tab."

"Exactly," Luca said, warming to the topic. "The barrier to exit is almost non-existent online, which ans companies have to work harder to retain custors. Traditional retail could rely on convenience—custors would return to the sa store because it was close, familiar, easy. Online, every competitor is equally convenient, so loyalty becos entirely about experience quality. One bad interaction and consurs have fifteen alternatives a click away."

He was talking too much again. He could feel it—the words spilling out faster than necessary, his hands gesturing more than they should.

But Kim was nodding. "That’s a strong argunt."

"Thanks. I an—" He caught himself, smiled. "The data supports it pretty consistently across all three platforms I analyzed."

Martinez glanced at her notes. "Let’s talk about your thodology. You ntioned using regression analysis to isolate these variables. Walk through your model."

Luca did, explaining his statistical approach, how he’d controlled for confounding variables, the limitations of his data set.

Webb asked two follow-up questions, both sharp and probing.

Luca answered carefully, admitting where his data had gaps, suggesting directions for future research.

Thirty-five minutes in—five minutes over his planned ti—he reached his conclusion slide.

"So to summarize," Luca said, steadying himself, "online consur behavior demands a rethink of brand loyalty. Traditional models miss how easy it is to switch platforms and how quickly negative experiences spread. Companies that prioritize consistent, positive interactions at every touchpoint will build loyalty that lasts."

He stopped, resisted the urge to keep talking. Let the silence sit.

Martinez set down her pen. "Thank you, Luca. That was thorough. If you could step outside for a few minutes?"

"Of course."

He disconnected his laptop, gathered his notes, walked out.

The hallway was empty and quiet. Luca leaned against the wall, letting out a long breath.

Too much talking. Definitely too much talking. But the content was solid. They’d engaged with his argunts, asked good questions. That had to an sothing.

His phone buzzed. Noel: How’s it going?

Luca typed back: Just finished. Waiting for verdict.

Noel: You did great.

Luca: You don’t know that.

Noel: Yes I do.

Despite everything, Luca smiled.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

The door opened.

Martinez stood there, expression neutral. Then she smiled. "Congratulations. Your defense is approved."

Relief hit him like a wave. "Thank you."

"Your research is strong," Webb added, appearing behind Martinez. "Solid thodology, compelling findings. You tend to over-explain—trust that we’re following your argunt—but the work itself is excellent."

"Minor revisions to your literature review," Kim said. "We’ll have notes to you by tomorrow. Make those changes and you’re done."

Done.

Luca shook their hands, accepted their congratulations, sohow made it back out to the hallway without his legs giving out.

He pulled out his phone, texted Noel: Passed.

The response ca imdiately: I KNEW IT. Where are you?

Luca: Leaving now. et at ho?

Noel: Already on my way.

The apartnt was empty when Luca arrived.

He dropped his bag by the door, collapsed on the couch, and let himself breathe.

He’d done it.

Four years, countless late nights, months of research and revision and stress—and he’d actually done it.

The door opened. Noel appeared, slightly out of breath like he’d run part of the way ho.

"Hey," Luca said.

"Hey yourself." Noel crossed to him, pulled him up off the couch, and kissed him properly. "Told you."

"You were right."

"Say that again."

"Don’t push your luck."

Noel laughed, pulling him close. "We did it. Both of us."

"Both of us," Luca echoed.

"So now we celebrate?"

"Yeah."

They ordered food—too much food, from three different places because they couldn’t decide.

Ate on the balcony despite the evening chill, wrapped in blankets, watching the city lights flicker on across the skyline.

"To us," Noel said, raising his beer.

"To surviving."

"To graduating."

They clinked bottles. Luca took a long drink, feeling the tension of the past weeks finally starting to unwind.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. Dad.

"I should take this," he said.

Noel nodded. "I’ll give you privacy."

"No, stay." Luca answered. "Hey, Dad."

"Luca." Mr. Smith’s voice was warm but asured, the way it always was. "I heard about your thesis defence."

Of course he’d heard. Mr. Smith had access to Luca’s academic records, had probably gotten the notification before Luca had even left the building.

"Yeah," Luca said. "Defense went well. They approved it."

"I knew they would. Your work is always thorough." A pause. "So. We should talk about next steps."

"Next steps?"

"Your future. The company has several entry-level positions opening in June. Managent track, good benefits, room for advancent. I thought we could discuss which departnt might be the best fit—"

"Dad." Luca cut him off gently. "I need ti."

Silence on the other end.

"I just defended my thesis today," Luca continued. "I haven’t even graduated yet. I can’t think about where I’m working when I’m still trying to finish my degree."

"I understand that, but planning ahead—"

"I know. And I appreciate it. Really. But I need space to figure out what I want, not just what makes sense." Luca kept his voice even, calm. "Can we table this conversation? Until after graduation, at least?"

Another pause. Then, quieter: "Of course. You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself."

"It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer—"

"I know." Mr. Smith sighed. "I’m proud of you, Luca. Today and always. Take your ti."

"Thanks, Dad."

"We’ll talk later. Enjoy your evening."

The call ended.

Luca set his phone down, rubbed his face.

"You okay?" Noel asked.

"Yeah. He just—he wants to plan everything already. Where I’ll work, what departnt, like graduation’s just a formality before I join the family business."

"What do you want?"

"I don’t know yet. That’s the problem." Luca leaned back, staring up at the darkening sky. "I just want to finish this first. Graduate. Then figure out what cos next."

"That’s fair."

"Is it? Or am I just putting off the inevitable?"

"There’s nothing inevitable about it," Noel said firmly. "You get to choose. Even if that choice is his company—it should be because you want it, not because it’s expected."

Luca looked at him. "When did you get so wise?"

"I’ve always been wise."

"Cocky."

"Confident." Noel reached over, lacing their fingers together. "But seriously. You have ti. Don’t let him rush you."

"I won’t."

They sat in comfortable silence, the city humming below them, the future uncertain but theirs to figure out.

For now, this was enough.

They’d both defended. Both passed. Both survived.

Everything else could wait.