When was it?
When did it start?
Had he been feeling this way all along, hidden beneath the chaos?
No.
No.
'Maybe this is… maybe this is the original Florian's feelings. Not mine. Not me…'
But he knew better.
He'd already drowned in so many of the original Florian's emotions—memories he couldn't escape, grief that wasn't his, longing that haunted him in dreams.
And lately… he could tell which feelings belonged to him, and which didn't.
And this—
The frantic pounding of his heart.
The relentless flood of tears spilling down his face.
The suffocating pressure in his chest as his fingers clawed against the cold floor for something, anything to hold onto—
This wasn't borrowed.
This wasn't inherited.
This was his.
"I can't… I can't have… why do I have…" His voice cracked, breaking into jagged fragments. He stared at the trembling blur of his reflection in the polished floor as his tears hit it, one after another. "I shouldn't…"
Heinz was stupid.
Heinz was selfish.
