The fire enveloped the sky. The darkness shook. The flames licked the air. The Bolsheviks watched that tower fall to ash. The same tower that held so many of them as a prison. The same tower that created so many cheap goods within. The same tower that held so much plastic value, and melted as iron to scalding magma.
They watched a moment, admiring their work. Admiring their gorgeous plumes of destruction, their scarlet flames scarring the very stars. The silence. The crackling of the embers. The whole world burning. Communist towers eating Russia alive.
"We should go."
"Yes. We should. Good work, comrades!"
All those devoted men scattered- roaches exposed to the sun's glory. The one with the black eye scurried to his father's pretty hole.
The next morning was hell.
"What the fuck did you do, Andrei? I saw you last night, and then I hear your group of rats burns down a whole God damn building! I know that was you. You and your little revolutionaries! What the hell are you trying to prove?"
Andrei smacked his brother square in the mouth.
"Have you gotten another job yet?"
"That doesn't-"
"Have you gotten another job yet?"
"No."
"Then don't you speak to me, you traitor. No brother of mine would quit his job. You were lucky to have a job at all. Do you not realize that there are men and women begging for work and you just gave up your salary because you were 'tired'? How sad for you, Dmitri. Our father's pocket book has you blind. Now get out of my ear. I have better things to do."
As the elder walked from the younger, the younger took to his weapons.
"I'll-I'll report you!"
"Excuse me?"
"I'll report you, Andrei."
The communist's blood boiled.
"You wouldn't dare, Dmitri. I'm your blood. I may not be your brother, but I am your blood. I'm all you have. I'm the one you were raised with. I'm the one who's pushed you over and picked you up and listened to every last word you had to say. I'm your family. And because I'm something that you used to be, you're going to turn me in and have me killed?" Andrei shook his head. "I pray you don't. Destroying your own blood is the worst mistake you'll ever make."
An intense form of quiet.
"I'm sorry, Andrei."
Yet, the void.
"I'm sorry…"
Dmitri had realized how wrong he was.
Bolshevik or not, the opposite was his brother. They were made of the same components. The bones, the marrow, the veins. To destroy Andrei would be to destroy himself.
One could not live without the other.
They were puzzle pieces. Light and dark. Good and bad. Life and death, yin and yang.
"I'm sorry, Andrei…"
"It's alright." And the other looked to the guidance of the tiles. "It's alright, Dmitri."
"I'll get another job. I just needed to do something else. I hate that factory. I hate it and all of its bad memories. I just…" A gasp. A sigh. A thought. "I just need to move on now. I just need a break."
"I understand. I wish you would have told me first, but I understand…Can we make up yet? I hate fighting with you. I never win."
"Andrei, you always win."
"No…No one wins. We just get beaten and bruised."
The tranquility arrived, and either sibling embraced one another.
"I'm sorry, Dmitri."
"It's alright, Andrei."
And the pair that once fought with such conviction emptied their transgressions; either man could be brothers again, so long as promises were kept. But at the very tick, it was all resolved, and the hatred dissipated as smoke into the sky.