Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 325

Chapter 325: ’Precious, Too Precious.’

After Lancelot told Florian everything, the room fell into a tense, fragile silence. Florian’s face was lowered, his curly bangs casting shadows over his eyes, obscuring his expression entirely.

Lancelot shifted uneasily, studying him.’Is he... crying?’ he wondered, his brows pulling together. The idea alone made his chest ache.

But then—

Florian exhaled, long and heavy, like he was holding back a storm."That..." he began, voice low.

And when he finally looked up, Lancelot was startled.

Not tears.Rage.

Florian’s eyes burned—not with grief, but with fury. His lips curled, and his fists trembled slightly at his sides.

"That bastard!" he snarled, his voice raw and rising. It jolted Lancelot to hear such venom in that usually soft voice.

’He’s angry,’ Lancelot thought, blinking in surprise. ’He’s not even crying... he’s furious.’

"I knew he was an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole! What the fuck?!" Florian’s voice crescendoed into a yell, echoing in the room. He was pacing now, animated with righteous indignation. "Listen, Lancelot. Don’t you dare give him the satisfaction! I’ll help you. We’ll talk to His Majesty. We’ll make a plan. We’ll outsmart that bastard and get your mother back—you hear me?"

Lancelot stared at him. His vision blurred—not from tears, but from something just as overwhelming.

Hope.Support.Someone standing with him, not above or behind.

Florian kept ranting, eyes ablaze. "I can’t believe that man! The audacity. Andrew doesn’t even look like he’s tough shit! Walking around like he’s—"

Lancelot suddenly stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Florian gasped, the words dying on his tongue. "L-Lancelot? Why are you hugging me again?"

Lancelot didn’t respond immediately.

The truth was—he missed this. Not the hug. Not even the warmth.

He missed him.

For weeks, he’d taken mission after mission. Petty skirmishes, meaningless tasks—assignments his knights could’ve handled blindfolded. But they weren’t distractions. They were avoidance.

Avoidance of the one person he didn’t know how to face anymore.

He had heard the rumors. And he wasn’t blind. Heinz had been hovering more, smiling more when Florian was around. There was something in the air between them. A quiet tension. A closeness that made his chest tighten.

He wasn’t stupid, either.

During the aphrodisiac incident—when Florian had been too quiet the morning after, and Heinz had been different—Lancelot knew.

That kind of potion didn’t wear off easily. Not without help. And Heinz had been the one to stay.

The next time Lancelot saw him, Heinz had looked changed.

It had haunted him ever since.

And Heinz... was king.

Lancelot could never steal from the man he served.

But it wasn’t just loyalty.

It was fear—that maybe, just maybe, Florian had already given his heart away.

Because Florian had never once looked at him the way Lancelot looked at Florian.

He had known from the beginning that Florian wasn’t interested. That Lucius’s constant flirting was brushed off not because of Lancelot, but because Florian simply... didn’t want that. Didn’t want them.

Still, he yearned for him.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing about it did. Yet it felt like something deep in his bones was whispering that—somewhere, sometime—Florian had been his. That maybe in another life, or another world, they’d had something real.

And now, seeing Florian rage for him... fight for him...

’It’s unfair,’ Lancelot thought, heart aching. ’How can I not fall harder?’

"Thank you, My Prince," he murmured against his curls, holding him just a bit tighter—because letting go felt like tearing his soul in two.