Dave stands still, staring at the door Heinz just walked through. The echo of his footsteps fades down the hallway, dissolving into the stillness of the room and into the noise inside his own head, like the final notes of a song he wishes he'd never heard. The tension between them—that blend of attraction and suspicion—lingers like a venom that's left its mark.
With Heinz, Dave has felt a fragility and intensity he doesn't understand—an unspoken threat that disarms him as much as it draws him in. But despite it all, he can't stay here, not in a reality that isn't his. His true home lies in another dimension, beside an Axel who understands him in ways this world never could.
But that clarity doesn't bring him peace. Instead, it stirs a slow-building anxiety. The way Heinz looked at him—with resigned sadness that pierced right through his defenses—left a mark he'd rather ignore.
"Shit."
Dave exhales sharply and decides to follow him. Maybe, for both their sakes, they need to talk one last time. To confront whatever has awakened between them before it morphs into a tangle of unresolved emotions and unspoken resentment. He steps out of the room and into the dark corridor, where the walls seem to close in with every step.
When he finds him, Heinz is leaning against a window, watching the rain fall. His slim figure is silhouetted against the dim light, like part of the shadows themselves, his thoughts lost somewhere unreachable. The streetlight traces the curve of his profile, and Dave can't help but notice the vulnerability hidden beneath his calm—something that makes him seem more human than anyone else in this world.
"What are you looking at?" Dave asks, trying for sarcasm, but it comes out thin and unconvincing.
Heinz turns slowly. The defiant spark in his eyes is gone. Instead, he looks at him with a quiet resignation—and something else, a silent question, as if he's searching for an answer in Dave's face.
"Sometimes I wonder if everything you do is just running. Running from what you're too scared to face," he says bluntly, his frankness catching Dave off guard.
Dave looks away, trying to mask his discomfort with indifference, but he knows the words have struck an open wound—one he hadn't even admitted to himself.
"And you're the expert on facing your fears, huh?" Dave shoots back, sharp, though his voice lacks the bite he intended. "What makes you think you know everything about me?"
Heinz shrugs, as if he doesn't need to explain. He takes a step closer, his gaze heavy with an empathy that feels too exposed, too intimate.
"I don't know everything about you… But I see what's there. You pretend you're in control, act like nothing gets to you... but you cling to this idea of 'home' that probably doesn't even exist the way you remember it. How many times, deep down, have you questioned whether you actually want to go back?"
Dave opens his mouth to answer—to deny every word—but Heinz's doubts strike at something buried deep. Of course he wants to go back. Of course Axel is the only thing that's ever been real for him. But… what if Heinz is right? What if the home he longs for is nothing more than a fantasy woven from broken fragments of memory?
"You don't know anything," he says at last, though his voice lacks the force he wants it to carry. "This world, this dimension… it has nothing for me. And Axel…"
Dave trails off, unsure how to continue. Unsure if he even believes the words forming in his mind.
"Axel what?" Heinz asks softly, as if understanding just how hard it is for him to confront the thought.
"He's the reason for everything. He's why I'm going back. Nothing in this world will change that. Not even you."
Heinz closes his eyes, as though each word were a fresh wound. But when he opens them again, they shine with a quiet resolve—a kind of tragic acceptance.
"I know. But I won't give up, Dave. You might think you can run from this… from me…" His voice falters briefly, as though betraying a crack in his resolve. "But you know there's something here you can't ignore. You can lie to Axel. You can lie to me. But you can't lie to yourself."
Dave meets his gaze, and for a moment, the silence between them grows unbearable—stretched tight like a wire about to snap. Yet something in Heinz's eyes holds him in place, keeps him from walking away. He can't stop thinking about his words, can't shake the feeling that, in some deep, twisted corner of his soul, he might have begun to see something in this world that he actually wants.
Without warning, Heinz steps forward, closing the space between them. His eyes burn with an intensity that strips Dave bare, and before he can react, Heinz lifts a hand to his face—his long, cool fingers gently framing his jaw with unexpected tenderness.
"Dave, I don't want to be just a shadow in your path. I don't want to be just another obstacle." His voice is quiet, threaded with sincerity that makes Dave's throat tighten. "Give me a reason to let you go. Because if you don't… I'm ready to keep you here. For eternity."
Heinz's words hang in the air, unanswered. And Dave doesn't know how to respond—because deep down, despite every argument, every desperate need to return, there's a flicker of something he's afraid to name. Something that tugs at him. Something that binds him to this man who seems to understand him in ways he doesn't even understand himself.
He tries to pull away, to speak—but the words fail him. He's trapped in a web of conflicted feelings, of desires and doubts that leave him paralyzed.
And then, without thinking, he leans in.
He closes the distance between them in an impulsive, almost desperate movement, letting the tension that's been simmering between them finally erupt in a kiss.
The kiss is fierce and soft—tasting of defiance and surrender, of fear and need. They hold on to each other like they're drowning, like this moment is the only real thing in the universe. And for one suspended breath, Dave forgets everything: his mission, his loyalties, his need to go back. In this kiss, in this fleeting instant, he finds a peace he's never known.
But when they part, reality crashes back in.
Heinz looks at him—his eyes darkened by desire and sorrow—and Dave knows:
This moment, perfect as it is, will not change what must come.