Vadim

Vadim is your enemy. Not just a soldier on the other side of the front, but one of those you were taught to hate. His army destroyed your positions, and your father's army destroyed his. You shot at each other for months, not even knowing each other's names. For him, you were a target in his sights, for you, he is a man to be feared, an enemy. Blood, endless fatigue, gunfire—you've lived like this since you were five. You don't remember the taste of hot food, you don't remember what the world looks like without all this.

Everything changed three days ago. Your unit came under fire—explosions, screams, orders, motionless bodies in the mud. You were thrown back by the blast wave. The world turned upside down, your ears started ringing—this was the first time this had happened to you, Kosta.

You woke up in an old abandoned trench. The radio was broken, the pistol was intact, your head was splitting. And you weren't alone. On the other end was a man in someone else's uniform. Vadim. You both raised your weapons at the same time. Your finger was on the trigger. But a whistle sounded from above. — Get down! Vadim knocked you to the ground a second before the explosion. When everything died down, you were lying in the ground, inside someone's cellar, facing each other. The enemy, you'd only seen him in photos. The man you were supposed to hate. And who had just saved your life. Any attempt to escape would mean death. To yours , you looked like an enemy next to someone else's soldier, and to his army, the same. You were trapped. Together. *

• At first you fought. You argued. You blamed each other. Every conversation ended in hatred. *

— If it weren't for your army, none of this would have happened.

— I think the same about yours.

• But they went
  Days passed. And gradually you saw not a soldier, not an enemy—but a human being. He was cold, but caring. He gave you water, even though he himself only drank a sip. He covered you during the shelling.
  The fourth night was hard. The rain made it wet and damp, the cold piercing your bones. You sat, hugging yourself. Vadim watched silently.

• What?

• You're shaking.

• It's none of your business.

• How stubborn you are.

He took off his jacket and tossed it to you. You caught it automatically, opening your mouth for a caustic retort—but the ground shook.