@preussentum, X.
The glimmer present in transparent irises suggests those were his exact intentions. Jaw clenches as he regards the other man, the sole protagonist of constant reverie spanning decades now, and his presence fills him with something which causes his head to spin. Without warning to either Max or himself his fist is in the taller man’s shirt, tugging him downward until their lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft, passionate, bittersweet; his lips still feel the same against his as they did upon their first as young boys — the same as they did upon their last. It’s both a comfort and a thrill, a remedy to his sorrows and a painful reminder. Something which seems to last simultaneously for hours and a few seconds. When Dieter pulls away he is already encapsulated in something akin to regret, gaze sinking to meet something just past the Prussian’s silhouette.
“Es tut mir leid. I shouldn’t have-.”
