A Bolshevik Affair -- Lenin X Reader

Chapter Four: конфеты

You welcomed Lenin into your small peasant home. The jar of pickled vegetables was left sitting on the table, half-eaten. It did not matter. The one you loved walked all the way to your residence simply see you, even if it was after an embarrassing argument.

It was freezing outside. Despite the cold, the sight of Lenin in full winter attire--hat, scarf, and several layers--was divine. He looked as if he was burried in warmth. You imagined--no, you knew--that same level of heat radiated from his heart. You knew he was capable of love and passion, so why did he claim he refused to touch you out of "respect"?

He walked into the foyer where he took off his hat. He started to look around, taking in the cozy atmosphere. Like most other Russians, you had little money. You earned little at what jobs you could take. Although it came with social stigma, it was easier to support yourself as a single woman.

"Your home is quite quaint. I should have visited sooner."

Something was off about this encounter. It had not occured until now that he had never visited you like this before. Was he about to break it off? No, he would not! You are the one he desires. Perhaps he wants to take the relationship more seriously. The two of you could move in together. Or maybe he wants to murder his wife, throw her body in a lake, and run off with you to Paris. The possibilities were racing through your mind, and all you could hope is that he came with good intentions.

"Hopefully this is a sign our relationship is undergoing a transformation," you thought, attempting to shake off any feelings of doubt. 

He sat down and motioned for you to come closer.

"I brought something for you," he said, pulling something out of his pocket.