Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 551

"I'm happy… because…" Hendrix's voice dipped softer as he spoke, almost as if the words were meant only for Florian.

Florian glanced at him, catching the curve of his smile in the moonlight, a smile that felt too calm for the weight of the conversation.

"…because when you think about it," Hendrix continued, "the depressing parts haven't really happened yet."

Florian's breath caught as Hendrix's eyes locked onto his, steady, unwavering.

The intensity of that gaze made his chest tighten.

"You're here with me, under the moonlight. We're not drunk this time. Everything feels quieter. Peaceful. And…" Hendrix tilted his head slightly, his voice gentler now, "…I wouldn't let what happened before happen again."

The words should have comforted him, but they didn't. They only made Florian's throat dry.

"What if…" Florian's voice cracked faintly as he looked back at the moon, desperate to avoid Hendrix's gaze. "…what if even without you doing anything… things won't happen again? Everything you said, and everything now—it all seems different."

And it was true.

Heinz had remembered. He'd remembered his feelings for the real Florian.

He'd finally realized that the original Florian hadn't betrayed him.

Hendrix himself—his sudden appearance, his presence here—was already a shift.

And then there was the most dangerous change of all: Heinz's feelings for him, for this Florian.

The thought made his chest ache again.

"That is true," Hendrix admitted softly. "But there are some things that haven't changed."

His voice carried a weight Florian couldn't decipher.

When Florian turned his head, Hendrix's expression was calm, almost tender—until his hand lifted slightly, a finger gesturing toward Florian's face.

"It's time for my question."

Florian froze. His stomach sank.

'I think I already know what he's planning to ask.'

He sighed, almost defeated, bracing himself.

"Why were you crying?" Hendrix asked at last. His tone wasn't mocking, wasn't light. It was quiet, careful—concern threading through the words. "You seemed like you were crying very hard. And on the night of your ball, no less."

The admission pierced straight through Florian's chest.

'So he noticed me before I even noticed him.'

Crossing his arms tightly against his chest, he tried to steady himself, but his mind was a mess.

What could he even say?

There was only one true reason why he had been crying—but how could he tell Hendrix that?

He did come looking for Hendrix, didn't he? He came because he thought Hendrix could help him.

Yet now, face to face, he didn't even know what kind of help he wanted, or how to even begin to ask for it.

His emotions were too raw, too tangled. Just thinking about it again made his throat tighten, made his eyes sting all over again.

So Florian turned away quickly, refusing to let Hendrix see. He tilted his head back, staring at the moon as his tears welled up once more, hot and heavy.

"He…"

The word scraped out of Florian's throat, broken, barely formed. His chest tightened as if something were strangling the air out of him.

He shook his head violently, his hair falling into his damp face as he tried, uselessly, to steady himself.

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