"In truth," Heinz began, his voice low and deliberate, "I had fallen in love with Florian. The… original one."
For a moment, his words faltered.
It wasn't just pain—it was hesitation.
A reluctance to even let the name pass his lips, as though speaking it would bring the ghost of the other Florian into the space between them.
No, not this Florian. Not him.
The original.
And yet, Heinz had to say it.
Florian's heart clenched, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. He didn't want to jump to conclusions—not yet.
Not when he was finally starting to hear the whole truth about what bound Heinz and the original Florian together.
"However," Heinz continued, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond Florian, "I was against… the idea of being in love. Of feeling vulnerable."
His tone dropped lower, almost guttural. "No, perhaps it's no secret… that I had never been surrounded by any kind of positive love. My mother… my father…"
