The cummunist dick-tator-ship

Chapter 3: Store cupboard shenanigans

TW!!!: HOMOPHOBIA/HOMOPHOBIC COMMENTS

Lenin's POV:
I can't stop thinking about Stalin.
But he was so god damn frustrating.
I knew deep down, I found him slightly attractive *eye roll*. Emphasis on the slightly.
But nothing could ever happen. Here's why, first of all, I haven't properly come out yet. Secondly, I have no clue whether he even likes boys. Thirdly, nothing can happen, it's completely unprofessional, I mean, what would the other Bolsheviks say?
Besides, I DON'T like him like that. I just...get a little nervous around him.
I shake off these ridiculous thoughts. He's not my type anyway.
I'm currently walking out of the building, this corridor feels like it's never going to end.
Then suddenly, I trip. Luckily, I'm able to steady myself quickly, and I don't think anybody saw it, but still, I turn as red as a tomato.
Wow, way to go Lenin.
You're lucky no other comrades saw that humiliating affair. Or so I thought...until a deep, husky voice proves me wrong.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
Jeez, this guy again? Seriously universe?
Or is he like stalking me or something?
Why do we always end up in the same place?
I turn around to find him smirking, what's new? I simply give him an "are you kidding me?" glare, which gets a laugh out of him.
"What?" He chuckles, "I swear, I won't, and don't stress, happens to the best of us." He shrugs and smiles down at me.
"Ok, well...thanks for the pep talk, uhh see ya," I say, turning to continue my journey out of the corridor.
"Hey! Wait!"
Oh for frick's sake.
Can this jerk let me walk away, just once.
"Yes?" I groan, placing my hands sassily on my hips.
"Can I talk to you about something?" His smirk has faded and his question appears genuine.
"Uh, yeah? Sure?" I say, shocked and suspicious. He looks around hurriedly, as if searching for something.
"Uhm, quick, in here," he heads towards the store cupboard.
Um...what the flip?
But he runs to the cupboard so quickly I have no time to object.

Before I'm even halfway through the door, he grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me further in.
"What are you doing?" I hiss, as he reaches around me to shut the door.
"I just didn't want anyone to see us, this is top secret info," he says in a hushed voice, his face is so close to mine I can smell his minty breath.
"Right, well let's get this over with, what is it you have to tell me that's so important you have to drag me into a store cupboard?"
"Well...you see, I've had a- a revelation, if you will, about how we can overthrow the-"
"We?" I interrupt him, "What makes you think we'll be doing this together?"
"But-" he begins but I cut him off.
"Look I know we had that whole discussion in the coffee shop but I was only brainstorming, that wasn't an invite to work together, unless you've forgotten, remember, I don't like you that much." I ramble.
"Ouch," he clutches his chest playfully, acting fake-offended. "Well, we make a pretty good team don't we?"
Even in the semi-dark, I still see him wink.
I blush, hard, and what's frustrating is...I can't control it.
Whenever um around him I turn as red as a tomato.
God Lenin, get a grip, he's just a guy.
"Ok, well then, what's your amazing idea?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
He begins to explain his top secret idea, and I watch his eyes widen and his hands form dramatic gestures.
Honestly...it's kind of hot to see how passionate he is.
NO!!! What am I thinking?!?!
This is STALIN. Who is far from my type.
He's too...rebellious. Too much of a bad boy for me.
I couldn't be caught dead with a guy like him, or any guy for that matter.
I mean come on, I'm a tiny, sad nerd with no life, and he's like one of the most popular people in the party. So, not only do we not mesh well together, he wouldn't be into me anyway. I'm surprised he even knows my name.
He's probably only following me everywhere and trying to get involved because another member put him up to it.
Maybe they're trying to steal my plans?

Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked.
Although I hate to admit it...his idea is brilliant, and I find myself getting excited at just the thought of it.
Once he finishes explaining, I tell him fine, I'll work with him on this. But first, I lay out some ground rules.
"Number one," I state, "we can NOT be seen together, we must work in private. Number two, this does not mean we are friends or anything like that, and it defo does not mean I like you OR trust you. And last but not least, rule number three, you must SWEAR not to tell anyone about this, even your closest comrades. If this gets out, we're screwed and so is society. And worst of all, Karl Marx would be disappointed."
"I swear, this will stay between you and me," he then opens the door and begins to walk out but not before turning back around to say, "Oh and don't worry, you'll come to trust me in time, and I'll have you liking me by the end of this." He winks.
Yeah, right. *scoff*
"Is that a challenge?" I ask, crossing my arms, peed off by his confidence.
"Nope, it's a promise."
...
It's Monday morning, and I'm speed-walking down the street, on my way to my office. I'm clutching my folders close to my chest, and I can see my breath in the frosty, wintery, Russian air.
When suddenly, the worst happens. Of course it does.
Welcome to my sad excuse for a life I guess.
"HEY TWINK!"
I feel something hit my back, clearly thrown with force.
I whip my head around and see Pobedonostev and Stolypin.
Fuck.
My bullies.
I look straight ahead and walk quicker, choosing to ignore them in hopes that they'll leave me alone.
But I should be learnt my lesson by now.
They never will.
This time I feel something hit my head, I have to stand up for myself.
I turn around and stomp towards them.
Although they both stand at 6ft or over, and I'm barely 4'11, (I know *sigh* I'm a smol bean, ok?) I approach them with false confidence. You know, fake it til you make it and all that.
"Look guys, seriously, kn- knock it off." Damn my anxious stutter.
"Oh wowww, I'm terrified," Pobedonostev mocks, making his teeth fake-chatter.
Stolypin throws his head back and laughs.
"Look you better give me your grain and vodka money and make like a tree and leave," Stolypin warns, his eyes darkening, "or otherwise you'll be getting the necktie."
He makes a gesture mimicking a tying a rope around his neck.
"Ooo, watch out, he's fruity after all, he might enjoy that," Pobedonostev smirks.
I decide today is not the day I'm going to so be brave and so I spin ok my heels and leave.
But as I walk away I hear one of them shout after me
"YOU'LL NEVER BEAT THE TWINK ALLEGATIONS!"
"YEAH BECAUSE THEY'RE TRUE!"

Stalin's POV:
I'm sat on a random bench trying to expand on the plan Len (I just know he'd hate me using that nickname) and I are working on, when, speak of the devil, I see him further down the street.
He's walking in this direction, but insanely quickly.
And uncles I'm mistaken, he's crying.
That sets off something in my heart, all of a sudden I want to know how this happened, and fyi if someone did this, I'm going to be wiping the floor with their dead body soon.
As Lenin is about to walk past my bench, I call out to him.
I reckon he's so upset and lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed me before that, and when he hears me call, he startles.
"Oh," he swiftly wipes away his tears, putting on a brave face, "hey."
A sudden wave of protectiveness over him hits me.
"Come here," I gesture to the empty space on the bench next to me.
"Oh, no, that's- that's fine, I- I need to-"
"Nope. No excuses. Come sit," I insist.
Lenin hesitates, before he sighs and reluctantly sits down.
"Who did this to you?" I growl.
"What?"
"Lenin, I need you to tell me who made you cry. So I can't hunt them down." I say the last part under my breath, but he still hears.
"So you can what!?" His eyes widen.
"Nothing," I shake my head, "look just tell me who, I know it's someone. I mean, what else could be getting a strong guy like you down like this?"
"Well...it's just these guys...they just-"
"Who?" I demand.
"Stolypin and Pobedonostev."
I inhale sharply.
Those guys.
I'm going to kill them.
"What douchebags. They better count their days," I threaten as i stuff my work in my rucksack and stand up.
"NO!!!" Lenin shouts, grabbing my arm fearfully.
But as soon as he realises what he's doing, he quickly removes his hand.
But I miss the contact.
"Stalin?"
My stomach fills with butterflies when I hear him say my name.
"Please, don't do anything, it'll only make things worse."
As angry as I am, and as much as I wanna beat the shit out of those jerks and teach them a lesson, making things worse for him is the last thing I want to do.
Plus, the pleading look in his eyes is too much for my heart to take.
I can't say no to him.
So I sigh in defeat and sit back down.
I guess my revenge will have to come in a different form.