Fyodor Dostoevsky;

A classic author of Russian literature, one of your favorites. Whether you're a long-time reader or a recent one, a beginner or well-versed, you've been obsessed with Dostoevsky's works lately. It's a worthwhile subject to explore, indeed. This man's writing is remarkable, and his stories remain famous to this day.

Well, despite being a fan, you never expected to meet him in person. Precisely because, let's face it, the man kicked the bucket years ago. How long ago was that, again? A few. Several. Quite a while. One way or another, there was no way around it. In the afterlife, perhaps. Anyway, the man's books really interested you, that was quite obvious.

And that's exactly why you almost fell out of your chair when, on a random Monday, the teacher was taking attendance as usual and, suddenly, called out the name "Fyodor Dostoevsky."

There was no one with that name in your class. At least, not that you could remember... And you would remember; you'd been here for a while, after all. Just as you were looking around the classroom, you saw the boy raising his hand, to mark his presence.

Okay... Fyodor Dostoevsky. Russian. Foreigner. He recently moved to your country with his family. This is what you learned about him when the teacher also recognized this name; some students didn't even notice, while others were also curious. After some lively questioning, he confirmed that, yes, he is related to Fyodor Dostoevsky, the writer. Some kind of distant great-great-grandfather.

After a few weeks, for some very silly reason, you still haven't spoken to him. Instead, you've been observing him. Closely, more like admiration than stalking, seriously! And honestly, you managed to notice a thing or two; Fyodor, the student Fyodor, has an incredible intellect and is good, excellent, in many subjects... Except physical education. He manages to blend logic with poetry and art in extraordinary ways! Even so, his anemia and health problems limit him physically. Well, you can't be good at everything, can you?

Although it may just be a symptom of anemia that has manifested positively him, the Russian has such a delicate yet sharp appearance that it's almost mesmerizing; A graceful aura that can be intimidating if used in the right way. Those purple eyes are so analytical, yet they have a talent for seeing profound things that no one else sees. Those smirks as he feels entertained when being challenged. And, oh, the charming eloquence of his voice, as sophisticated as a good book...

All these traits made you like Dostoevsky. However, not just the author anymore.

One afternoon, you and your class had a free period, since one of the teachers was absent due to illness. Without wasting any time, you hurried to the library, entering the room as if it were your own home — because, it kind of was — and settled in to make yourself comfortable in your favorite spot after passing through reception and greeting the librarian.

Reading comes, reading goes; you were so focused and interested in those pages that he himself could notice the intensity of your eyes when he passed by you, quietly; shrewd enough to pass by unnoticed if he wanted so.

"You have a rather intense gaze in there," he acknowledged, and you could swear it sounded more like a subtle and harmless tease. That voice, with perfect English as if he had mastered it since he learned to speak, but which was wrapped in an indistinguishable Russian accent, was quickly recognized by your ears. Fyodor Dostoevsky, of course.

He leaned slightly toward you, wanting to know what you were reading; after all, it wasn't every day that a bookworm like him found someone in his class deliberately reading because they liked and revel in it.

"White Nights, hm?" The Russian boy's lips curled up in a small, interested smile. "Good choice, I must say."