It's still us (BILLDIP)

Chapter 1 - Blond boy on the train

"Denied." With a loud thud, a bundle of manuscripts fell on the editor's desk. "W-what? Why? I cut it short, as you last asked. "Dipper stammered in confusion. He had been working on that book for over half a year! Why did he reject it this time? This was his fifth rejection by the editors. The first time it was too short, the second time it was too long... It almost seemed that the editor was making up reasons not to publish the book. And yet, he put everything into it...

Mr. Cherish, editor, and owner of Cherish's Book, sighed and took off his glasses. Dipper wasn't sure if he had ever known a larger man. But that did not mean his height. The man was short, barely 165 cm tall. However, this compensated for how massive he was. The young writer did not understand how the belt under his large belly could not break. "Dipper," the man said slowly, looking into the boy's eyes. "The problem is not in length but in content. The story is not deep enough. There are no emotions, no real feelings that would captivate the reader. You have to put your life into it, not just write an unsympathetic text that is used to make money. You are young. Twenty-two years old, right? Why don't you try to go out and - I don't know - have fun with friends, find a girl, and get real inspiration? "

Dipper looked down at his shoes. He knew he didn't mean it in a bad way. After all, Mr. Cherish himself was an excellent writer. But hearing the rejection still hurt. He worked on that book over so many nights and days. And what was it good for? For nothing.

"I understand," he replied, rising from his chair. He was about to leave the office when the man spoke to him once more. "Don't take it personally, kid. I'm just doing you a favor. At this time, it is difficult to establish oneself as a writer. People want to read something new, something they haven't read before. So that they don't have to focus only on the war around us. Not these boring classics with no plot. But if you write something new, my door will always be open for you. "Dipper looked back at him and gave him a small smile. Then he said goodbye and went out...

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The weather could not have been worse that day. The cold May wind stung Dipper's ears as raindrops fell on his sad face. The sky was full of black clouds floating over the city with anti-aircraft balloons. There were gunpowder and fear in the air. They were at war.

Dipper closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself with the sound of rain. Boy didn't want to cry. He slowly let the water soak into his indigo coat. He was so excited to show his work to the editor that he forgot to take his umbrella with him. But now he ended up with rejection and clothes completely soaked. How ironic, right? But he couldn't think so much about it. He could not give up his dream. Not after he did everything for it.

When he had calmed down enough, he decided to walk to the subway station. His train was about to leave in 10 minutes, and he was pretty sure his sister was worried about him. Not that he had anything else to do here in this part of town. It was a neighborhood full of expensive shops and cafes. He could hardly buy anything with his income here. Only in the back alleys were relatively cheap shops and offices of smaller companies. And, of course, the local publishing house. However, not all of these buildings were the same as they were on Dipper's last visit. Several buildings were destroyed during the recent bombing of the city. In places where beautiful shopping malls stood three days ago, only rubble remains.

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On the way to the train, he began to look at the people passing by. It was incredible how people had changed in those few years. The women shortened both their skirts and their hair. Expensive and long dresses were replaced by short ones made of cheap fabric. Practicality won over elegance. Young men, on the other hand, wore nothing but a military uniform.