the lover of my lover is my enemy

Felix got a day off. It wasn't a day off that he wanted, but because of his recent hospitalization and the drunken shenanigans the other day, he'd been clocking in tired, noticeably paler and sicklier, shaking in his seat. Every time the chief asked him if he was fine, he'd reply with a sheepish 'no, no, I'm fine', but he'd hog the coffee machine and fall asleep for more than his lunch break. Finally, Crow strode to his desk like a storm, if storms wore dangerously impractical high heels, and said, "Verma. Take a day off. I better not see your face here today."

He'd slept in... Well, if sleeping in meant passing out at seven and waking up at ten AM. It was technically more than 12 hours of sleep, but the goddamn birds chirping out his window didn't seem to think so. Felix tried to nap, found he just nursed a nasty headache when he did so, and decided he was going to get out of bed. He hung out at his kitchen and made some tea, petted Mittens. It was such a beautiful day.

His apartment was starting to suffocate him for no reason. His hand hovered above his phone. He decided to leave it alone, lest his self-control give in and he started spamming Toby's inbox with needy, emotional bullshit. Looking at his decorations and furniture was making him nauseous. Did he always hate this place? He hated his apartment, and he hated the city at large. He couldn't do much about the latter, but the former was easily rectified. He left his apartment at noon, getting in his car and also getting stuck in that hellish lunch rush. Why didn't he eat before he left? It felt like a tremendously idiotic move on his part.

He parked at the mall, only because the mall catered to a wide range of things. He had fun going from store to store, buying shiny things. He had a lot more disposable income than people would presume, given his income. He found a nice dress, which cost him a fucking hole in his wallet, so he changed into it and liked how he looked at it, way better than he did with a button up shirt and slacks.

After that, he headed at the cafe in the fourth floor of the building, which was only accessible via elevator. The entire floor was a cafe. He ordered a rice meal and a latte, and looked over the city. The giant glass walls exposing the city made for a grand sight.

He was feeling pretty good. Maybe a little time to himself was exactly what he needed.

[ dress ref is middle one ]

Felix had to admit, he'd fantasized about meeting someone at a coffee shop like some sort of badly written fanfiction. It seemed so romantic, having someone attractive sit across his table, with a coffee and a book. He thought about those things a lot. It was cheesy, but when you're alone, you think about meetings like that. They keep the bad thoughts at bay.

This, this wasn't romantic. The man was handsome, yes. It was in a coffee shop, yes. All the things checked out on the trope list. Felix's heart beat first, hopeful, until recognition dawned. He bristled.

Jett Lavelle. Toby's boyfriend, best friend, and old college roommate. People tend to know him, Toby, and their boyfriend Jeong as a unit. It felt... It felt like... He didn't like it. They were an inseparable pack of three, already tightly bonded together as that. Felix was never going to mean to Toby as much as they meant to Toby. People were never going to associate him with Toby. Being told I love you by Toby just felt like an insult. I love you, but only by this much.

He'd accepted it. He was going to relish in it until Toby got sick of him, and let it run its course. They can go back to what they were and Felix could go back to being lonely. Before that, he was determined to hate Jett and Jeong in silence, and avoid them as much as possible. But this... How did this even happen? Was Jett stalking him? Did Toby know?

Felix searched all the ends of the cafe for Toby, found nothing, and looked back at Jett. This better not be a joke, because it just felt cruel. That was possible, wasn't it? They liked their jokes. Felix, admittedly, was someone that could be easily humiliated. He felt his face heat up, suddenly self-conscious that he'd be so bold to wear an outfit like this in public now.

"Jett," he said flatly, not even remotely close to sounding like he wanted to fuck around. "This is, ah..." He swallowed. Wow, his throat was dry. "This is, mm, unexpected? Is Toby and Jeong with you?" Of course, what he wanted to ask, was why the fuck are you even at my freaking table?

This was so embarrassing. Felix felt like he didn't even need to justify his presence here any longer, and to Jett of all people. He didn't care if it was rude. He picked up his stuff, food already paid for, and headed to the elevator in an almost mechanical walk, pointedly not making eye contact with anybody. If he was lucky, nobody would recognize him, Jett wouldn't make a sense, and he could lick his wounds back at home.

Hm. And he thought he was going to have a good day, for once.

Felix stalked off, covering his ears a little. Good god, Jett Lavelle was insufferable in person. Couldn't he have run into Jeong or something? Mentally, he noted that he was probably the worst. Toby was awful, but at least he was capable of shutting up.

When he caught sight of the elevator, he practically ran in, but Jett caught it before it was too late. Felix attempted to shove him out in one last desperate attempt, but it was too late.

The elevator was moving.

He buried his blushing face in his hands and sighed. Next time Jett blocked the door, he was going to kick him out, skirt be damned. He couldn't keep him trapped here. It was fine, it was fine —

He heard the sound of wires snapping. Felix dropped his hands and stared at Jett at the panel, first questioning, then horrified.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Felix attempted to pry Jett away from the panel, but one, two snaps, and the elevator came plunging down into the basement. Felix screeched and held onto the support railing, head rattling at the impact. When it was over, he was shivering a little, eyes as wide as saucers as he tried to process what exactly just happened.

"Y-you just... you just..." Felix let out a frustrated noise. He got up and stormed up to Jett. Fuck self control! They were in a fucking basement in a crashed elevator! He tried to kick him in the shin, then punch him several times, blows serious. Ugh, this man! He wanted to rip him apart. If he murdered him, that might be fine, he could blame it all on the crash. He kicked him again. "Fucker! What the hell are you thinking!? Are you crazy!?"

Felix went down when Jett threw himself at him. He wished his mind could be appropriate for once, but it wasn't, and it went straight into thinking about fucking here. Somehow disliking Jett only made him want it more. Goddamn it. His face flushed as he was straddled, but he wasn't giving up yet. Felix wiggled his shoulders, trying to release his arms from the hell vice that was Jett's juicy thighs.

"I need to stop being hysterical? You ripped out all the wires and this is my fault!? I'm not obligated to talk to every piss random fucking stranger that approach me when I'm reading books at a cafe, especially ones so mental I ended up at the BASEMENT of a goddamn mall!"

Felix... sighed. This was going to be one of those things where fighting it was going to make it worse, wasn't it? Felix inhaled sharply, exhaled longer, and then, he wore a pretty smile, the kind he used to lure people into thinking he was harmless and sweet. "Alright, Jett. I'm so sorry I was rude to you earlier. I won't be hysterical anymore. We can talk. I think that, if we reach out to each other and be honest, we'll end up really good friends too. How about you get off me? This is a really awkward position for talking."

Felix made a rather telling gasp at Jett holding his shoulders down, legs squirming a little. Fuck. Fucking damn it. He was so nervous and turned on he could barely see. This was shit out of his fantasies, he swore to god, he was filthy fucking dubcon trash and he hated Jett so much it made everything sweeter. He wanted Jett's hands and mouth on him while he squirmed and struggled helpless underneath him and there was nothing he could do because he was stuck alone with a psychopath in a godawful basement inside a broken fucking elevator.

Pull it together, Verma. He was under some crazy fuck and all he could think about was cock? Really? Holy shit. He was going to kinkshame himself, his parents, his family and the entirety of Fanfiction.net. Filthy godless kinky motherfuckers. His breath hitched as Jett caressed his cheek, staring at his hand intently, lip trembling as a finger traced his lower lip. He then... snapped forward and bit it. Hard. No mercy, with the complete intent to bite it off he could. He spat on him. "Keep dreaming, Lavelle! I'd rather be caught dead than in bed with you!"

He wasn't buying his act at all. Christ, they should stop with these games (and get right down to fucking) and just — talk, one grown adult to another, and his head wasn't processing anything right but he was definitely thinking about shanking Jett at some point.

"And I don't like you at all. Sentiment not returned. But you're pretty sharp, I guess. You wanna 'talk', huh? Alright. Let's talk, pretty boy, since you're so intent on this you crashed a fucking elevator. I can't imagine you did this without any conversation topics in mind." He studied his face. And then, he scoffed. "If this is about that incident with Toby, I'm not going to tell on him or you. That won't be an issue."