Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 113: ’What Do You See?’

Chapter 113: ’What Do You See?’

"I’m... sorry, Your Highness," Lucius murmured, his voice low and weighted with guilt, as though the apology itself was painful to admit.

The words hung between them, lifeless and unsatisfying, the kind of apology that solved nothing. Florian’s arms stayed crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze boring into Lucius with unyielding intensity. An apology wasn’t enough—not for this.

"I’m not looking for an apology, Lucius," Florian said coldly, each word clipped and precise, like the swing of a blade. "I want an explanation. Why is it that everyone in this palace knows about your abilities and not me?"

Lucius flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but he said nothing, his silence almost louder than any excuse he could have offered. "The princesses don’t know."

’This...this guy!’

"Why didn’t you tell me you could see my emotions?" Florian demanded, his voice rising, the undercurrent of anger seeping through. "That’s... an invasion of privacy."

Lucius shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting at his sides. His lips parted, ready to respond, but Florian didn’t give him the chance.

"And the least you could’ve done was inform me!" Florian’s frustration surged, his voice tightening as he stepped forward. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I—" Lucius faltered, his voice catching like a thread snagged on a nail. He lowered his head, the faintest shimmer of shame crossing his face. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them back up absently, the small, nervous gesture doing nothing to hide his unease.

"I can’t really turn it off," he mumbled, so quietly that Florian barely caught the words.

"That’s not the point!" Florian snapped, the sudden rise in his voice making Lucius flinch. He took another step closer, his expression hard, unyielding. "You could’ve said something, Lucius. Anything. Instead, you just—" He cut himself off abruptly, inhaling sharply as he tried to rein in his anger. His chest rose and fell, his breaths shaky. "Why?"

Lucius swallowed hard, the tension in his throat visible as he hesitated. His eyes darted away, as though the answer he sought might be written somewhere on the floor. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer now, trembling under the weight of his guilt.

"I wanted to understand you more," he admitted, his gaze never lifting. "I was afraid you’d... find a way to conceal your emotions or push me away so I wouldn’t see them anymore. And I—" He faltered again, his shoulders slumping, the fight draining out of him. "I know I might’ve been the one who pushed you away at first, but I..."

His voice broke off, and slowly, hesitantly, he raised a trembling hand. His palm brushed against Florian’s cheek, the touch so gentle it was almost hesitant, like he feared it might shatter something fragile.

Florian’s breath hitched at the contact, his body stiffening as the air between them shifted, charged with something unspoken. ’Why does he always do this?’ he thought bitterly, the conflict raging inside him.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to shove Lucius’ hand away, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Something about the look in Lucius’ eyes froze him in place.

Lucius’ gaze was raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare in a way that Florian had never seen before. His vulnerability was unnerving, cutting through Florian’s anger like a knife through silk.

"I saw your emotions the day of His Majesty’s announcement," Lucius said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against Florian’s skin. "And I got... concerned."

Florian’s brows furrowed at the confession, his mind scrambling for answers. ’Concerned? About what?’

"I see your emotions every day," Lucius continued, his voice trembling slightly as though each word cost him something. "And I— I’ve been trying to understand them. To understand you."

Florian’s thoughts raced, faster than he could keep up. ’What is he trying to say?’ He searched Lucius’ face, his expression tight with suspicion, with a flicker of something he refused to name.

"What did you see, Lucius?" Florian asked finally, his voice steady, though it took everything he had to keep it from shaking. His heart, however, was anything but steady, each beat a loud, frantic drum in his chest.

Lucius hesitated, his hand lingering on Florian’s cheek as though afraid to let go, his fingers trembling now. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, the weight of unspoken words pressing down like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Florian’s eyes narrowed, his frustration flaring again. "Lucius," he pressed, his tone sharper now, demanding.

Lucius drew in a shaky breath, his hand finally dropping from Florian’s cheek. His fingers curled into his palm as though he needed to steady himself, to ground the storm inside him before daring to speak.

"Your emotions..." Lucius began, his voice low but deliberate, every word weighed down by hesitation. "They’re... different. They’ve always been strange—ever since your accident."

Florian’s brow furrowed deeply, his sharp gaze narrowing further. "Strange how?" he demanded, though the edge in his voice had dulled. Curiosity, unwelcome but undeniable, was slowly overtaking his frustration.

Lucius hesitated again, his fingers brushing against the frame of his glasses in a nervous habit. "I see... colors," he said finally, the words tumbling out like a fragile confession. His eyes flickered upward, briefly meeting Florian’s as if gauging his reaction.

"Auras, I suppose you could call them. They represent emotions—anger, fear, joy, grief. Everyone has them. Usually, I only see one or two colors at a time, depending on what they’re feeling. But with you..."

Florian took a step back, his arms falling to his sides. His chest tightened, the steady thud of his heartbeat feeling far too loud in the quiet room.

"With you," Lucius continued, his voice growing softer, almost reverent, "it’s different. Sometimes, there are three or four colors at once, all swirling together. And they’re... clashing. Conflicting. Like they don’t belong together."

Florian blinked, the weight of Lucius’ words pressing down on him like a heavy mantle. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it. "And what does that mean?" he asked, though his voice betrayed his unease. It was steadier than he felt, but only barely.

"I don’t know," Lucius admitted, his frustration breaking through his usually calm demeanor. His voice cracked, raw with the weight of the unknown. "It’s not normal. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Like pieces of you are... fighting each other."

’Pieces of me.’ The phrase struck Florian like a dagger, a chill running down his spine. His breath hitched, his fingers twitching involuntarily at his sides. ’Could it be... him? Is this proof that the real Florian is still inside this body?’

"What colors do you see?" Florian asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself. His voice was tight, restrained, like he was afraid of the answer.

Lucius tilted his head slightly, caught off guard by the question. "It depends," he said cautiously. "Sometimes, it’s red—anger. Or blue—sadness. But other times, I see gold... like hope. And then there’s black."

"Black?" Florian repeated, his chest tightening as the word sank in. It felt heavy, ominous, as if it carried a weight that couldn’t be ignored.

Lucius nodded, his gaze softening, the sharpness in his features giving way to something gentler, more hesitant. "It’s rare, but with you... it’s there more often than not. It feels heavy, like grief or regret. But it’s never alone. It’s always tangled with something else, something I can’t quite name. Like it’s... incomplete."

Florian’s throat tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. ’Black. Grief. Regret. Hope. Could it really be him?’ His breathing grew shallow, the possibilities swirling in his mind like a storm he couldn’t calm.

Lucius took a hesitant step forward, closing some of the space Florian had created between them. His expression was open, earnest, but there was something fragile about it too, like he was afraid of being rejected. "

"I don’t know why it happens," Lucius said quietly, his voice almost trembling. The vulnerability in his words cut through Florian’s defenses like a blade. "But I wanted to figure it out. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I thought if I could understand it, I could... help."

Florian’s eyes locked onto Lucius’. He scrutinized every inch of his face, desperate to find even a flicker of deceit—a smirk, a twitch, anything that would reveal this as an elaborate lie. But there was nothing. Only raw, aching sincerity that twisted his gut in ways he wished he could ignore.

’I can’t stay mad at him when he’s being this honest,’ Florian thought, his jaw tightening as he let out a frustrated sigh. ’Damn it, Florian, out of all the men... why him? Why fall for Heinz in the first place?’

His chest felt heavy, as if the air itself had grown too thick to breathe. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to ground himself, but it didn’t help. It only made Lucius’ expression—those pleading eyes and the quiet hope behind them—cut deeper.

And yet, Florian’s mind whispered the one truth he hated admitting. ’Lucius really does love Florian. Doesn’t he?’

Too bad for Lucius. In the first life, he was never the one chosen. And in this life... the person he loves isn’t even there anymore.

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