Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 190: ’Almost There’

Chapter 190: ’Almost There’

Heinz exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his gaze fixed ahead, though his eyes betrayed him, drifting downward to the figure sitting in front of him.

Florian was silent now, his usual sharp tongue momentarily subdued by the vastness of the sky around them. His hands were loosely gripping the saddle, his posture finally less rigid than before. But Heinz was not at ease.

’He still doesn’t remember.’

He had tested Florian in subtle ways—throwaway remarks, veiled provocations, even deliberately drawing too close at times. And yet, not once had there been a flicker of recollection in those green eyes. Florian had no idea. No memory of what had transpired between them.

But Heinz did.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing down the unwelcome heat that threatened to rise again. It was ridiculous—unthinkable, even—that he should be so affected by something that had meant nothing. Nothing.

And yet, it haunted him.

The feeling of soft, warm skin yielding beneath his hands. The sound of breathless, helpless noises. The way Florian had trembled—

Heinz shut his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself to exhale slowly, deliberately. It was a passing memory, nothing more. An act of convenience, not indulgence. There had been no feeling behind it, no desire. He had only done what was necessary.

That should have been the end of it.

And yet—

His grip on the reins tightened. His body knew better than his mind, reacting against his will. The proof of it had been far too evident when Florian had—completely by accident—touched him earlier.

A mistake.

A brief moment, nothing more.

And yet, he had almost felt it. The slow unraveling of his control, the insidious heat curling at the edges of his restraint.

He despised it. Despised how his body reacted despite his will. Despised the faint, irrational disappointment that Florian had forgotten.

Why? Why should he care?

Heinz’s pride bristled at the mere thought. He was a king. A ruler of iron and fire. He had no time for these...these frivolous distractions.

But something had changed.

He had changed.

He had grown used to Florian’s presence, his sharp remarks, his unexpected wit. At times, he even enjoyed teasing him, watching him fumble and fluster under his words. He liked seeing him react. Liked watching him squirm, whether in frustration or embarrassment or—

He stopped himself there.

Enough.

He would not entertain such thoughts. Not about him.

Heinz exhaled sharply, forcing his mind back to the present, back to the feeling of the wind against his skin and the steady beat of Azure’s wings beneath them. He glanced down at Florian once more, willing himself to feel nothing, to push away the thoughts clawing at the edges of his mind.

"This is just a natural body reaction," he muttered to himself under his breath. "Florian has an attractive face despite being a man. It means nothing."

It had to mean nothing.

"Are we close?"

The sudden voice jolted him, snapping him from his downward spiral. He straightened, blinking, and found Florian glancing back at him, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Heinz hesitated. The question had caught him off guard, not because it was unreasonable, but because Florian had asked it so...casually. As if nothing had changed.

"That is quite random," Heinz remarked, clearing his throat. "It’s unusual for you to ask such a thing."

Florian tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing in that way Heinz had come to recognize whenever he found something absurd. "Why would it be unusual, Your Majesty? We’ve been flying for quite some time. I assumed we’d be close by now."

Oh.

Oh.

So that was what he meant.

"I suppose you’re right." Heinz forced himself to sound indifferent, keeping his voice as even as possible. Fortunately, Florian, for all his intelligence, was utterly oblivious.

Heinz could only wish he were, too.

He turned his gaze forward once more, but his mind remained clouded. He had gotten too close. Closer than he should have. It was only in hindsight that he realized how accustomed he had become to Florian’s presence, to the sound of his voice, to the unguarded moments when he wasn’t trying to be sharp-tongued or clever.

Perhaps...if Florian had always been like this—this version of him, untouched by the past—then perhaps things would have been different.

But the memories still lingered. The old Florian. Clinging to him, weeping, begging. Pathetic. Heinz had despised it.

He had despised him.

Because it reminded him of—

"I am your wife! I... am your wife! She is only your concubine, yet you spend most of your time with her!" A woman’s voice rang out, shrill and broken, thick with betrayal. Tears streaked her face, but her fury burned hotter than her grief.

His breath hitched. His grip faltered.

His fingers, which had been firmly wrapped around Florian’s waist, loosened—just for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for Florian to notice.

A sharp gasp escaped the younger man’s lips as he felt himself slip forward.

"Y-Your Majesty!" Florian’s panicked voice barely registered as Heinz’s mind remained tangled in the past. He didn’t even realize he was letting go. His body had gone rigid, frozen in the grip of memory.

His heart pounded in his chest, but the sound that filled his ears wasn’t the wind or the rush of flight—it was her voice, haunting him, dragging him backward into memories he thought he had buried.

"You cannot keep doing this to me! I am your queen! Listen to me!" The same voice, cracking now, breaking under the weight of desperation. "Why won’t you look at me?"

The accusation in her voice cut deeper than he ever let on. He had looked at her, once—before duty, before betrayal, before the endless cycle of regret.

The scent of burning candles filled the air, thick and suffocating, mingling with the faint trace of perfume she always wore. She reached for him then, as if touching him might anchor him to her reality, to the life they were supposed to share.

But he had stepped away.

A sharp gust of wind snapped him back to reality. Florian jerked forward slightly, the sudden shift making Heinz’s stomach drop.

His fingers clamped down before he could think, pulling Florian back so tightly against him that their bodies pressed together.

Florian let out a quiet, shaky breath.

"Are you... okay?" Florian’s voice was quieter this time, cautious, hesitant.

Heinz exhaled sharply. "Perfectly fine," he said, his voice colder than he intended.

He felt Florian tense, but as always, the younger man chose not to push further. It was one of the few things Heinz appreciated about him—he knew when to stop asking questions.

’Fuck.’

He wanted to run a hand through his hair, to ground himself somehow, but his grip on Florian could not falter again.

This was why he couldn’t—why he wouldn’t—desire him. Why he had ignored him for so long.

Because Florian reminded him too much of... her.