Florian didn't know what had just happened.
One moment, Heinz was holding him close—warm arms wrapped around him, lips pressed in hungry kisses—and the next, his body had started trembling.
Florian froze, eyes searching Heinz's face.
It wasn't the usual mask of authority or arrogance. It wasn't the teasing smirk he'd grown used to.
It was pain.
Raw, unguarded pain.
And in that brief moment, it almost looked like Heinz might cry.
Florian kept calling to him, voice laced with concern. He wasn't even sure who Heinz was hearing—
Because whatever Heinz was seeing, it wasn't this room.
It wasn't now.
The grip on Florian's arm tightened—too much. His breath hitched as pain shot up to his shoulder. The bruising would come later, but already his skin burned where Heinz's fingers dug in.
It was the first time in months that Heinz had hurt him, and even then… Heinz had never crossed into leaving an injury.
Why now?
'I wasn't even able to ask him if what Hendrix said was true.'