"I-I…"
'He's still not done with this?'
The words caught in his throat, fragile and trembling.
What was Florian even supposed to say? His mind was a whirlwind, spinning between disbelief and confusion.
Did Heinz truly miss him? Heinz—who always carried himself like stone, who seemed incapable of wanting, of needing anyone.
'I don't think he knows what he's saying.'
Florian's chest tightened painfully. He didn't understand, couldn't comprehend—but as always, whenever Heinz's hands were on him, his mind went hazy, his body unmoored, like he was caught in a tide too strong to fight.
His lips moved before his mind could stop them.
"I… missed you too."
The confession was barely above a whisper, so fragile it could have been lost to the silence of the corridor—yet Heinz heard it.
The king's eyes darkened, crimson flaring with something primal. Then came a sound, low and guttural, reverberating in Florian's chest—a growl so raw it hardly seemed human.
