As soon as Florian's eyes opened, he was strangely… calm.
No gasping. No scream tearing out of his throat. His chest rose and fell evenly, too evenly, as if his body hadn't caught up with his mind. He just lay there, eyes blankly tracing the ceiling above him.
The weight around his waist anchored him back to reality. Heinz's arm—heavy, possessive—was draped over him. The heat of his body pressed into Florian's side, but Florian couldn't bring himself to look at him.
Not after what he'd just seen.
Every time Florian allowed himself to forget.
Even for a moment.
Even for just a second.
Every time he dared to think of Heinz as just a man, the man who held him, who kissed him—He was reminded. Brutally.
This is the man who has ruined the original Florian.
The man who touched this body, knowing what he did to it. The man who turned it into something he could break and still claim as his own.
