"I'm yours," Florian whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Always."
"What is this?" Heinz breathed, watching the scene unfold in eerie clarity before him. The room felt too vivid to be a dream—too real. There he was, and there was Florian… but not the Florian he knew now.
This one was the original Florian. It felt so familiar. Familiar in a way that made Heinz's chest tighten.
A dream? Or...
No. It didn't feel like a dream. Not exactly.
Not with how vividly he could see the desire burning in his other self's eyes. Not with how raw Florian's expression was.
'Is this... my first life? A memory?'
His throat went dry.
He watched, frozen, as his other self let out a guttural sound and tore open his robe with an almost feral urgency. The sight was jarring.
Not because of the nudity—he was no stranger to his own body—but because of the hunger in his eyes, the desperation in the way he reached for Florian.
The tension in Heinz's stomach coiled tighter.
