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“I don’t regret it.”
Soviet looked at Third, who was staring out into the empty grey sky ahead of them. Third rested his arms atop the balcony railings. Their clothes fluttered gently in the wind.
A couple decades had passed since they reunited. At first, Soviet did his best avoiding the traitor - but like two stars orbiting one another, they were bound to collide. Perhaps it was some kind of twisted destiny.
He took a long drag of his cigarette, then exhaled, large puffs of smoke forming out of his mouth.
“I know.” Soviet dropped his cigarette to the floor and snuffed it out.
Third clicked his tongue, turning around to face Soviet. He leaned backwards, arms folded.
“Is this supposed to be forgiveness?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No. I cannot forgive someone who is not sorry, Reich.”
A sly grin spread across Third’s face. He walked towards Soviet, pressing up against his warm body. Soviet didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t flinch away either.
“Natürlich, but you don’t want your sweet revenge anymore.”
Soviet titled Third's head up and kissed him. Third was caught off-guard, but quickly eased into it, humming pleasantly.
“You killed yourself. I already got my revenge.”