CHAPTER 171: CHAOS BELONGS TO YOU

The quiet stretched, warm and unhurried. Luca’s breathing grew deep and steady against Noel’s side, his lashes casting faint, delicate shadows onto his cheeks.

His arm, still slung across Noel’s middle, slackened bit by bit until it was a comfortable, heavy weight rather than a conscious hold.

Noel shifted just enough to glance down at him. "You’re actually dozing off," he murmured, his tone a mix of disbelief and deep fondness.

Luca didn’t stir, only let out a soft, contented hum, the kind people make when they’re too far gone to form coherent words.

Noel exhaled a small, silent laugh through his nose. "You can’t really sleep now. We’ve still got one last thing to tick off, remember?" His hand came to rest lightly on Luca’s shoulder, not pushing—just a gentle, grounding reminder.

A muffled protest slipped from Luca’s lips, something between a groan and a plea.

He burrowed closer, his cheek pressing more firmly into the fabric of Noel’s shirt like a stubborn cat claiming its spot.

"You think hiding like that makes me forget?" Noel asked quietly, leaning down just a fraction so his voice brushed against Luca’s hair.

"Worth a shot," Luca muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Noel’s fingers lingered at his shoulder a moment longer, then tapped gently. "Come on. If we finish now, we don’t have to think about it tomorrow. You’ll thank me later."

For a heartbeat, Luca stayed stubbornly still. Then he finally cracked open one eye, bleary but softened with a reluctant grin. "You’re ruthless, you know that?"

"Efficient," Noel corrected, though his lips curved, betraying his own amusement. "Now up."

Luca groaned dramatically but pushed himself upright, his hair charmingly mussed, his shirt rumpled—the perfect picture of someone dragged out of the best nap of his life.

Noel just shook his head and stood, offering a hand.

Luca took it without hesitation, his grip firm and warm as he let Noel pull him to his feet.

They slipped into their jackets, the air outside already dimming into a hushed, evening gray.

Noel bent to grab the keys from the counter, his fingers brushing over the cool metal, lingering as if they might anchor him against the unease beginning to prickle under his skin.

By the time they reached the elevator, Luca was watching him out of the corner of his eye. "You’re awfully quiet," he said, the words lazy but perceptive. "Regretting dragging me out of my almost-nap?"

Noel leaned against the wall, huffing out a laugh that sounded lighter than it felt. "Something like that." He didn’t tack on the rest—the quiet dread coiling in his stomach.What if his father was waiting? What if stepping through that ornate door erased the soft contentment of the last hour?

The elevator arrived with a clean ding, its doors sliding open.

Noel caught Luca’s gaze before stepping in, forcing a smile that was softer than he felt. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll get it done quick."

Luca tilted his head, scanning him with that too-perceptive look, then let his mouth curve into a familiar, grounding smirk. "You sound like we’re pulling off a heist."

"Packing is a heist," Noel deadpanned as the doors closed, "especially when your closet is involved."

That coaxed a laugh out of Luca, rich and low, the sound filling the cramped space and easing the tightness in Noel’s chest. "My closet’s impressive, not dangerous."

"Same thing," Noel shot back, his lips twitching.

The warmth of their banter softened the edges of Noel’s anxiety. Still, when Luca leaned against the wall of the elevator, hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze slid back to Noel. "You sure you’re awake enough for this? You were practically drooling on me earlier."

Noel rolled his eyes, relieved at the return to teasing. "Please. If anyone was drooling, it was you. I just saved us both from waking up tomorrow with nothing done."

"Mhm. Responsible Noel." Luca’s smile thinned, but his tone was gentle. "I’d thank you if you didn’t look like you’re walking into battle."

The elevator chimed, doors parting with a mechanical sigh.

Noel’s step faltered for just a breath, the thought of what lay ahead pressing heavily on his chest.

Then Luca’s arm brushed against his, a solid, wordless presence, and Noel found himself moving forward.

Outside, the city hummed low and alive, headlights threading through the deepening dusk like golden needles.

Noel hailed a taxi, his gesture firm despite the hesitation still humming within him.

Luca slid in beside him, his thigh pressing firmly against Noel’s, and for a moment, that simple point of contact was enough to drown out every shadow he had been bracing for.

The taxi rolled to a slow stop at the curb, its headlights sweeping across a tall, imposing iron gate.

Beyond it, the house stretched wide and elegantly austere, its pale stone facade glowing faintly under the glare of expensive evening lamps.

To the side, a vast pool shimmered, its surface still and unnaturally blue like a sheet of glass.

"Big place," Noel murmured as he slid out of the back seat, his eyes tracing the lines of wide, dark windows and balconies stacked neatly above them.

"Mm," Luca hummed, a non-committal sound as he tossed a few bills at the driver before slinging his bag over one shoulder.

He didn’t look at the house so much as through it, as if it were merely an obstacle, another impersonal wall to pass through.

Noel stood frozen at the edge of the pristine driveway, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.

Something in his chest squeezed at the profound silence spilling from the house—it was too still, too polished, utterly devoid of life.

"You coming?" Luca asked, already halfway up the manicured front steps.

Noel’s foot shifted forward, then stopped again. The brass knob gleamed under the porch light, daring him to turn it. What if the door opened straight into Luca’s father’s voice, sharp enough to cut? "...What if someone’s—"

"Empty," Luca cut in, glancing back at him, his expression sure. "Trust me. If my dad were here, you’d already hear his voice three blocks away."

A weak, strained laugh escaped Noel, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders.

His hand hovered uncertainly at his side until Luca reached back, caught it in his own, and tugged him firmly inside without another word.

The door swung shut behind them with a soft, definitive click.

The air was noticeably cooler here, scented faintly of lemon-scented wood polish and the faint, chemical tang of chlorine drifting in from the pool.

Noel exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath since the taxi rolled through the gate.

"See?" Luca’s voice was deliberately casual, but there was a trace of soft understanding in it as he kicked his shoes off onto the marble entryway. "Not a soul."

Noel nodded, forcing a small, tight smile. "Guess I owe you for dragging me in."

"You owe me more than that." Luca flashed him a brief, brilliant grin before heading for the sweeping staircase, his hand skimming the polished banister like he knew its every curve by heart. "C’mon. My room’s upstairs. We’ll get this over with before you actually turn into a statue in the doorway."

Noel followed, his soft-soled footsteps echoing faintly against the vast, polished floor.

He cast a wary glance around the wide, showroom-perfect living room—everything was in its stark, expensive place, untouched, like no one had truly lived here in years.

The silence pressed in, but the sound of Luca’s familiar footsteps ahead of him was a lifeline, pulling him forward.

By the time they reached the landing, Noel felt the knot in his chest loosen just slightly.

Luca’s hand brushed the door to his room and pushed it open with a careless, familiar swing.

"Welcome to the chaos," Luca announced.

"You ready to see the infamous disaster zone?" he teased, his hand hovering over the knob as if he were about to reveal some grand secret.

Noel arched a brow, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "I’ve seen your laundry on my desk. I’m already braced."

Luca smirked, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open.

The glorious mess hit first—a joyful avalanche of clothes spilling across the floor, shoes abandoned wherever they’d last been kicked off, notebooks and magazines stacked into precarious towers on the dresser.

The bed was a tangled nest of blankets, looking like it had been slept in and abandoned mid-dream.

A half-empty water bottle teetered precariously on the edge of the nightstand.

"...Wow," Noel muttered, stepping just past the doorway as his eyes adjusted. "You weren’t exaggerating."

"Hey, this is an organized disaster." Luca kicked a hoodie out of the path with his foot. "Everything’s exactly where I need it to be."

"Right," Noel said dryly, eyeing the leaning tower of jeans in the corner that threatened to topple at any second. "So if I pick up that pile, you’ll know immediately what’s missing?"

"Obviously." Luca grinned, already reaching back to tug him deeper into the room. "Touch it and you’ll ruin the whole system."

Noel shook his head, but his lips tugged upward into an unreserved smile despite himself.

He stepped carefully, as if navigating a minefield of sneakers and stray socks, and let his gaze wander over the walls.

Band posters half-taped, candid photos tacked up carelessly—there was a lived-in, genuine warmth here, a beautiful chaos stitched together with pieces of Luca’s soul.

And though the room was far from tidy, Noel found the oppressive silence that had been pressing on him since the front door was gone, replaced by a strange sense of peace.

This house belonged to his father. But this room—this chaos—belonged to Luca.

And for the first time since stepping onto the driveway, Noel could breathe.