If Felix left as Wolf assumed he would, he might feel the draft of the door opening and closing against his arms, or feel the vibration the door made as it closed. Or maybe he wouldn't, and would be left standing in the middle of his room like an island, unreachable. Wolf stood still for almost half a minute, arms crossed in front of him and shoulders tensed. The longer he kept himself turned away from the door, the more he focused on the fact that he didn't know if Felix had left or if he was still standing there, rambling on to deaf ears.
Slowly, Wolf turned his head to see if Felix was in the room anymore, and it turned out that he was. Felix was closer now, and looking at him almost expectantly. What the hell does he want? he thought, in an attempt to stoke the anger in his chest. He couldn’t let himself let go of that emotion or he would become too influenced by Felix's expressive brown eyes, his untucked shirt, and the memory of how the beer he'd been nursing that night tasted on his tongue.
"What?" Wolf asked, and the way his eyebrows drew together sharply took care of the lack of demanding tone in his voice. "What do you want? You're drunk. What does that mean? I don't do well with homophobic bullshit after the fact, so if you're trying to use alcohol as an excuse to kiss me and still pretend to be straight afterward, just get out."
Felix couldn't have really known it, but Wolf was extra sensitive to scenarios as he'd described because of what was going on between Mao and Luke. Also, Mao implying Felix was just as homophobic as Luke had set Wolf on edge after the 'I'm drunk' comment. There was no reason to let Felix have his cake and eat it, too; no reason. In the closet was okay, but in denial was not.