#and with the way that he is - standoffish and central - nobody is going to care to ask

[metacove]

"Gusev" is probably the only unique thing attributed to Dmitriy. He lives his life through his imaginary twin, Fyodor, who carries all of his dreams and ambitions, and has all his friends, while Dmitriy carries on the legacy and wishes of a father that seemingly never cared for him. The only thing he has of his own is his nickname, Gusev, and nobody knows what it means or how it came to be.

[willowcordovas]

Seventh grade. A flash of time that rarely ever passed Willow Cordova’s mind, but when it did, it sent shivers down her spine. Why? It was a time where she was happy. She had friends, her sisters were too young to care, but most of all -- she still had her mother. Spin the bottle was a dangerous game. Willow had never locked lips with a boy before. Her? She was quiet, meek, standoffish. If there was ever a time when a boy kissed her, it would have been on a dare. But that night was different. Her best friend had mentioned a handful of times before that she had a crush on the most popular seventh grader in school. Many instances the girl ignored her pressure, knowing she could never forget the name that passed her lips every time she brought the subject up. His name? James McAllister. Methodically Willow imagined the two of them together, and it made sense. Her friend was beautiful in the physical sense: with beach-waved naturally curly blonde locks that cascaded down her back, oceanic hues that captured anyone’s attention the moment they landed on their prey, and an airheaded voice that had boys swooning at her feet, no matter what subject she talked about. Comparing herself felt detrimental, considering Willow had neither blonde hair, blue eyes, or a pretty voice. She had pin straight dark hair, green hues and a raspy undertone to her voice. Maybe it was because of all the times she held her tongue in public and was visibly uncomfortable speaking out loud, but no matter which way you turned it, they were polar opposites. Somehow she was dragged to a mutual friend’s house to play the God forsaken game that spurred every moment that followed. It was James’ turn to spin and somehow by fate it had landed on Willow. Her eyes grew wide, mouth nearly gaped in surprised before she shook her head with dissatisfaction, knowing her friend’s perfectly cerulean eyes were darting a ring of fire in the side of her temple. “We can spin it again,” she suggested calmly, her gaze never once taking note of the boy in front of her, but instead her best friend. 

“If you do that, it’ll be cheating!” The girl heard from a far off bystander who sat in the ring of middle schoolers alike. Needless to say, Willow’s suggestion was shot down. She was now staring her future down as if it were a boulder about to crush her into a million pieces, yet right then, that was what she’d hoped would happen before fate was sealed. What happened next felt like a nano second long before it was over. Her lips puckered up as her back straightened out, not daring to lean in to James as their lips pressed, immediately receding after the connection. A rose coloured blush fell to her cheeks, her eyes shaking as she looked to her friend with mild disappointment and guilt giving her the middle finger. Metaphorically, of course. That day on, her friend had refused to spend any time with Willow, exiling her from the friendship she had thought would be strong for an eternity. But that was seventh grade. Nothing good lasted forever. However, despite losing a friendship over something so trivial, the girl had felt something she had never encountered before. Once arriving home from the party, it was hard to get James McAllister out of her mind. It wasn’t hate that she felt for him, or dislike, even disgust. He was a nice boy, and for a brief moment, Willow felt terrible for running out of the house like a mad woman as if he had done something wrong. He was sweet, kind, compassionate. You could say all of those thoughts collectively brought her to the realization that she had developed a crush on James. She couldn’t tell him about it, that much she knew. Days went by, and every consuming, mind altering thought was about him and that stupid peck. In a last ditch effort to forget about him and to let her feelings go, Willow began to write a love letter, signed to him, with no intention of being sent to his front door. And maybe, just maybe, she could lie her life without her overwhelming emotions taking hold of her. 

It didn’t just stop at James. Throughout the years following to her freshman year of college, there had been four other male counterparts that took a piece of Willow Cordova’s heart. One in question being her older sister’s now ex-boyfriend. She knew it was wrong to love someone who was in love with someone else -- that someone else being Harley Cordova whom they shared blood. So, every time she met a boy that made her take flight, her pen was immediately down on the paper, allowing her to spill all of the secrets that threatened to boil over her. A safe place that she decided to keep her letters in was a hand me down circular box, green velvet with a bow on top. Stripes of white covered the sides, a total vintage piece of vanity that her mother had left behind when she’d passed. It was almost like she was sharing her own secrets with her mother, they were connected. And every so often, Willow had forgotten about those letters she had written, in hopes that if no one knew, nobody would ask. 

Commodore Central. Vanderbilt University was a fresh start, a new beginning to an old, rusty end. Willow wasn’t entirely sure what it was she wanted to study, but she had hoped freshman year would be a good indicator of what there was to offer for her. Coincidentally, her old crush -- one that was easily matted with cob webs and dust, buried into the ground -- James McAllister was on the football team. Every time Willow had passed sorority row, they called out the players’ names, praising them like gods. It wasn’t hard to hear his name as snicker to herself at the fact that she had at one time shared a tender and fleeting moment of her first kiss with him. She never anticipated passing him by on campus, but her memories left a soft impression on her just as it did in seventh grade. But now? She was running, laughing, and waving her past behind her. Literally. With the advantage of a football team needing an updated facility for practice, she was now circling the bend of the track that belonged to the University. “What did you do last night, W?” Jaqueline questioned her, a raised eyebrow on the redhead’s face as if she was unsure of Willow’s answer. With a sharp giggle, Willow gave her exactly what she’d expected. “I finished another book! It was so good, I’ll have to give it to you sometime.” The brunette said, nodding her head as her ponytail whipped back and forth with each hop she took. Willow Cordova felt free, content, and happy. Nothing could disrupt the positive aspiration that filled in her soul.