[ Tell him, Felix tells himself sternly. Tell him this was a fucking mistake and you want to go back to being friends. He doesn't actually want that, but he can't have what he really wants and the longer they do this, the more obvious it's becoming that it isn't going to work.

Locus can pretend he's okay with this and they can pretend there's something here, but it's just holding them both back. Locus from finding someone he might develop real feelings for or might be attracted to and Felix from getting the fuck over this hopeless bullshit. But as much as he wants to do the mature thing for once, he can't get the words out. It's pathetic and he hates himself for it, which, he thinks morosely, is probably what he deserves. ]

Yeah. [ Pushing off the couch, Felix gets to his feet, brushes at his clothes like wrinkles matter, and shrugs. ] I guess. I mean, it doesn't have to be tonight.

[ Goddamn it, tell him. But when he glances over in Locus' direction, he finds that he just can't. He's going to need to work up to it, which means no more jealous outbursts. Or trying to finagle moments of admittedly tame intimacy out of him. That'll probably be for the best anyway, since he's starting to feel like a sleazebag over it. ]

Trees aren't going anywhere. And if you hate what I did to your house I'm gonna need time to take it all down.