THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Psikh stood quiet in the garden, one hand wrapped around a cigarette, the other tucked into his pocket. He stared up at the sky-stars scattered thick and bright enough to silver the grass underfoot, though he thought they'd always look more brilliant from his home in Russia.
He drew a slow drag, the smoke sharp and bitter on his tongue, then exhaled a pale plume that vanished into the cool night air. He wore only a thin shirt and dark trousers tonight, so every breeze cut clean through to his skin.
"Not going inside yet?" Sebastian's voice came from behind him, low and even.
Psikh said nothing, his gaze still fixed on the heavens as he took another pull. The cigarette's scent hung heavy in the stillness between them.
"This view brings back a lot of ugly memories." Psikh murmured, and Sebastian let out a soft laugh as he moved to stand beside him.
"The house alone is enough to drag it all back up."
