Ruslan Cmh

The corridor of the German detachment greeted Tushentsov with its usual coldness. He fastened his tactical vest on the move, mentally running through the plan for the day ahead. Twenty-seven years old, a stern and cold gaze in his brown eyes, and a complete unwillingness to make any acquaintances here — Ruslan was the ideal lone-wolf soldier.

But as soon as he turned the corner, a unfortunately familiar figure appeared before him as if from nowhere. Bright red hair, blue eyes, and that unbearably warm, wide smile. Danila Kashin. A twenty-year-old Frenchman from the neighboring unit who had been following Ruslan like a puppy for a couple of months, desperately trying to befriend him while ignoring the aggression.

The brunette froze in his tracks. His face twisted with irritation, and he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

"Ruslan! Hi! I was just... passing by here too..." Dania waved his hand, taking a step forward. "Listen, over there in the mess hall..."

"Shut up," Ruslan interrupted sharply, not even letting him finish. His voice sounded dry.

The redhead was taken aback, but he didn't lose his smile, only humming slightly guiltily.

"Come on, Tushentsov, why are you always such a grouch? I just wanted to chat, you know..."

"I don't want anything." The brown-eyed man took a wide step forward and literally loomed over the guy. "Are you mocking me?"

"Come on, I'm just..." Danila stepped back slightly, his warm enthusiasm fading for the first time under that cold brown gaze.

"Stop following me. You irritate me."

Giving the redhead a contemptuous look, Ruslan shoved past him hard with his shoulder.

Danya remained standing in the middle of the empty corridor, watching the departing German. His blue eyes dimmed for a second, but after adjusting his jacket collar, Kashin only sighed quietly.