The cummunist dick-tatorship

Chapter 7: Can we still be friends?

Lenin's POV:
He kissed me.
Joseph Stalin KISSED me.
But why?
I didn't think I'd be his type. And I thought all of the teasing was just joking, not...flirting.
It's not that I didn't like it, I definitely did. It's that we CAN'T start anything, because of all the reasons I've stated previously.
I lying on my back, on my bed currently going down an anxious spiral because of it.
It just doesn't feel real.
I only reacted the way I did because I was so taken aback. But I'm worried he might think I'm angry at him, when I'm not, I'm just...confused.
I run a hand through my hair and bite my lip.
Then I shake my head, I need fresh air to clear my head.
I step outside into the chilly weather, ah...a storm is brewing. I feel it.
I wander the streets of St. Petersburg. It's nice but it would look better with red flags hanging everywhere 😼
I think about the kiss, and when I do, butterflies fill my tummy.
His lips were so soft...so gentle. I yearn for them to be back on mine.
But no, I have to think about this logically, without feelings getting in the way.
Realistically Stalin and I would never work. For a start, I've sworn I would never like him, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Secondly, we'd be put on show trial for it and most likely assassinated or just publicly shamed to the point where we can't leave our offices.
It's basically social suicide.
And this is assuming that me and Stalin become an item, which I'm not even sure he wants. I have no clue what he wants. I've only just gotten confirmation that he actually is gay, but I have no clue if he wants to be with me, or whether that was just an impulsive kiss.
I have so many questions, and no answers.
So I decide, I need to talk to him.

Stalin's POV:
I'm sat in my office, head in my hands, worrying over what happened a couple of nights ago.
Lenin and I haven't spoken since. I haven't even seen him.
But tbh I've barely left my office since due to embarrassment.
He wouldn't even let me explain afterwards, he just...walked off.
I've never felt more humiliated and insecure in my life.
But the one thing I'm clinging onto at the moment as some form of reassurance, is that he kissed back. He didn't pull away in disgust, no, he was hesitant at first but then melted into the kiss.
So I thought my dreams had come true, and that he liked me back.
But then his reaction said otherwise.
Oh Lenin, I miss you.
Then, there's a knock at my front door.
I get up and trudge down the hall. I get to the door, twist the knob and it creaks open.
And stood there, is none other than Lenin.
I almost choke on air, and quickly push my hair back from my face, raking a hand through it so it's somewhat brushed. I adjust my clothes, even though they're dishevelled beyond help now.
I give him a small smile.
"Hi," I say quietly, less confident than normal.
"Hi," he whispers. For the first time I feel, I can't quite figure out what he's thinking.
We just stare at each other for at least a minute, like clueless idiots.
Then I begin to speak just as the does.
"So wh-"
"Look-"
"Sorry," we both say at the same time.
"You go first," i say to him.
"Can I come in?"
I nod.
We sit down in the living room, on two sofas opposite each other.
"Look can we just forget about what happened," Lenin asks and my heart sinks.
"Y- yeah, yeah of course, if that's what you want."
"Well it's what both of us want isn't it?"
"Uhh, yeah, yeah totally. Let's just forget about it bro." I try to sound nonchalant.
Bro. I cringe inside.
He gets up to leave but hesitates when he gets to the hallway.
"Stalin?"
"Yes?" I gaze up at him hopefully.
"Can we still be friends?" He asks, his beautiful eyes wide, staring deeply into mine.
"Uhh yeah," I look down at my lap to hide my disappointment and the tears in my eyes. "Of course we're still friends, Lenin"
Well even if we weren't together, at least he was still in my life.
If I have to suppress my romantic feelings and desire for him to still know him, then so be it.
He walks away and I hear the front door shut.
Then I let the tears fall.