Writing request please!! Dimtri and Guy meeting at at Eton over dinner. (Maybe add the other boys if you want :) ) P. S. Love the fic so far !
I’m sorry this request has taken so long in the making! I adore these two so much, they’re my favourite characters in the entire thing! [I’m also sorry for the slightly sad turn this took at the end. Sheesh.] Enjoy! —-“Darling. It really isn’t that bad.”
Gillian Bellingfield looked back over her shoulder at her son as the car picked up speed on the motorway. It seemed that the more she looked at her youngest the more painful it felt for both of them. Guy was sitting in the back of the car with his knees hugged to his chest. At his Mother’s words, he lifted his head. Wide eyed and red cheeked, the thirteen-year-old didn’t reply. He just rested his chin back on his knees again. Gill sighed, turning back in her seat to look at the open road again. “You’ll enjoy yourself. Your Father did, didn’t you Nathan?”
Nathan Bellingfield shifted in his seat again, looking at his son in the rear mirror as he drove. “One of the best times in my life. Guy. Look at me.”
The boy lifted his head again, managing a little sniff as he rubbed at his eyes. Nathan sighed. “The friends you’ll make here will last for a very long time. These boys are the best, and you get to be one of them. I promise you, Eton will be the most amazing experience you could ever dream of.”
“Then why can’t I stay at home? Just walk there every day? Why did I have to leave my old school? Why doesn’t this school start when you’re 11 like all the other schools?” All the questions in the world, and Guy was sure he would never get a straight answer out of either of his parents. “… Why do I have to stay there?”
Nathan exchanged a look with his wife. In the end, it always boiled down to this. It had with their older children and now was no different. He cleared his throat. “Guy, boarding at the school builds character. Your elder brother manages. And your sister when she went to Roedean. Put your feet down off the seat, please.”
Slowly, Guy lowered his knees, simply resting his forehead against the window instead. “I’m not Robert though, am I? Robert’s better at everything and he’s got loads of friends there—“
“And so will you, darling.” Gill reached her arm back to take rest on her son’s knee. “Come on, poppet. Big school, now isn’t it? You’ll get to learn with all the other boys and,” She squeezed his knee gently. “This is the best ticket to Oxford if you keep going with your History.”
And there it was again. Oxford. Guy closed his eyes, nodding his head simply because he knew that his Mother would drop the subject if he did so. His elder sister had told him time and time again how amazing Oxford was, and his brother, starting his final year at Eton now, had already received an offer from the University. Guy wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go. It just seemed like something his family simply had to do. His Mother and Father had met in their first year there, for goodness sake.
“Is it just the boarding that’s scaring you?” His Mother asked, her eyes still filled with concern. Guy nodded once. A lie. Seemingly one that his Father saw right through. He raised a brow, making eye contact with him again in the rear mirror.
“Honestly?”“It is!”“Guy.”
The boy leant back in his seat again, slightly embarrassed. “What if…What if no-one talks to me?
Gillian was fairly certain she felt her heart break at his words. She turned properly in her seat. “Darling. Guy, don’t say things like that. Of course you’ll make friends. Why would you think that?”
The boy offered a one-shouldered shrug. “I just didn’t have many at Primary that’s all.”
“Darling, it’ll be very different. This isn’t Year 7 at a co-ed. This is Eton poppet. And Robert will be there. He’ll make sure you’re settling in properly.”
Guy simply raised a brow at his Mother’s words. The sheer thought of Robert doing anything remotely considerate to him was nearly laughable. But if that was what his Mother wanted to believe then he would let her.
An hour later, he was standing in the large main hall.
An hour later, he was holding his Mother tighter than he ever thought he had held her before.
He had his face pressed in to her dress, trying to remember her smell as he felt the tears prickle in his eyes. It was then that Gillian realised that this was in fact her youngest child, and that she was sending him away when in reality he was still a little boy.
“Mummy,” It was a small whimper as she wrapped her arms around him again. “I don’t want to. I really really don’t want to.”
She kissed his head once. And then again when the realisation sank in once more. “Just try. And if you still feel the same after a week we’ll talk to the headmaster, alright? But you can’t not try. You’re my Little Guy remember?” She whispered, smoothing back his hair as he looked up at her, scratching at the black uniform he was wearing. It took him a few moments, but after a while he managed the smallest of nods.
Gillian held her son to her once again, sighing. “We have to go now, sweetheart. I’ll phone you tonight. But you never know, you might want to talk to me. You might have made so many friends you’ll be too busy having fun.”
Once again, Guy highly doubted his Mother’s words. But judging by the sad way she was looking at him they were about to leave. He felt his Father run a hand through his hair and smile down at him.
“You’ll be fine, son. I promise.” And with a brief hug from his parents, they walked back to the car. Leaving Guy Bellingfield standing on his own. There was a moment where an older boy took his suitcase from him and informed him that it would be taken to his House dorm, but other than that, he was left completely and utterly alone. As always.
More and more parents were taking their leave, some were crying, some were as emotionless as their own brainwashed bourgeoisie sons. He could already see boys talking to one another in little groups, already making friends. The friends his Father told him he would have for the rest of his life. But as always, Guy found himself quite alone. He was ushered over to one of the groups by a school master.
“Bellingfield.” He knew that this would be the start of seven years of being referred to by his last name by both peers and teachers alike, seeing as the same was done to every other boy at the school. The man was sitting so rigidly it almost appeared he had a pole up his back. He had a pair of spectacles balanced on his nose and spoke with the same level of entitled sophistication that Guy had always known. He scanned up and down a list of names, finally finding what he was looking for.
“Guy Bellingfield?”“Yes sir.” Guy shifted awkwardly, already feeling numerous eyes on him.“You’re in Durnford house. Green and purple colours. You’re dining table is the furthest on the left. Go and get yourself seated.”Guy stared across the grand hall owlishly. He was fairly certain that someone in the sky had it in for him. Out of all the tables, why was it that his had to be the one on the other side of the room. The teacher lifted his head again when he noticed that Guy hadn’t moved.“On your way, boy.”
“Oh, sorry!” Guy stumbled forward, pulling his jacket a little closer around him as he walked across the hall.
The Durnford table was set out in age order as far as he could see. The eldest boys were sitting on one end, tall, well-adjusted and already funnelling in to Oxford and Cambridge alike. And then there was his end of the table, which appeared to be a gabble of giggling boys who were full of all the excitement of the ‘first day’. Such excitement that Guy was sure he was supposed to have, but didn’t.
It was only when one of the boys turned and looked at him that he noticed he had been standing at the side of the table oddly for the past minute. He was a smiling boy, with one of the most symmetrical faces that Guy had ever seen. Right down to the boyish freckles, perfectly even on each side.
“Are you quite alright?” He asked.“Y-Yes. Sorry. Is this the Durnford table?” He mumbled, rubbing at the itchy collar once again. The boy nodded, more or less tugging him down in to a seat. Confidence seemed to ebb out of this boys very pores. He extended a hand to Guy to shake.
“Villiers. Harry Villiers. Jolly good to meet you.”
Guy stared at the other thirteen year old’s outstretched hand, hurriedly shaking it when he realised he hadn’t done so quicker. “Guy. Guy Bellingfield.”Harry nodded. “That’s a weird name.”
Guy leant back in his seat. “I-I know. Most of the kids at my old school just called me Freak.” He was half expecting the jeering agreement as usual, but was instead met with a hearty laugh from Harry. “Oh that’s brilliant. Ed. Toby. Come and meet Guy. He’s bloody hilarious.”
Guy blinked, looking from Harry to the two boys on the other end of the table he was talking to. Hilarious. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever called him something like that before. Guy poured himself a drink, sitting back in his chair again. After a moment, he looked to the boy sitting opposite him. A dark boy who seemed more occupied with staring out of the window than the actual dinner taking place.
Maybe his Mother was right after all. Maybe he really would make life long friends here. He had already seemed to have made a good impression with his house mates. He glanced back over at Harry, who simply grinned back at him good naturedly..
“Hullo.” Guy mumbled, looking back at the boy opposite him. “I’m Guy. Guy Bellingfield.”
“I heard.” The boy replied quietly, finally pulling his gaze from the window. Guy swallowed, offering a hand to shake as Harry had done before. Perhaps not everyone was as charmingly confident as Harry Villiers was. [This was a fact he would know to be true in their University years. Especially when it came to women.]
“What’s your name?”The smaller boy seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before he finally shook hands.“Dimitri.”“Dimitri what?”“You wouldn’t be able to say it.” He said simply, resting his chin back on his hand as he looked out of the window. Guy shifted in his seat, fiddling with one of the forks. “I could give it a go. I’m rather good at saying complicated things.”Dimitri simply looked unimpressed, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. “Mitropoulos. Dimitri Mitropoulos.”
Guy tilted his head. “Blimey. That is a mouthful isn’t it. It sounds Greek.” Where was this chattiness coming from? Guy didn’t really know. But for some reason the boy in front of him just seemed easy for him to talk to.
“I am Greek.” Came the simple response as he looked back at Guy, the window forgotten. Guy leant forward in interest. “You are? Oh that sounds amazing. What’s it like over there?” His Mother had often told him to stop bombarding people with questions. But like most times, Guy had completely ignored her.
Dimitri’s unimpressed look was still there, but it was slowly fading with time.
“It’s—“ The boy took a second to look around the hall they were in. “It’s a lot less green. It’s a lot different to England, actually.”“I can imagine. Are you Mum and Dad flying back today then?”Dimitri shook his head, sipping at his drink. “No. My Mother and Father are at home. I was sent here on my own.”
Guy stared for a second. “You were…” He stopped, frowning steadily. “All on your own?”
“Father said it builds character.”
Guy closed his eyes. It was only a few hours ago that his Father had said the same thing to him about living away from home at a young age. “Do you miss them?”
Dimitri seemed to think for a moment, a look crossing in his eyes that Guy knew all too well. The feeling of trying to force oneself not to well up. “Sort of.” The boy rubbed at his face angrily, trying to remove any sense of emotion. Guy leant forward again, trying his best to look as friendly as possible. “I miss mine too. I…I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think it’s a normal thing. Especially seeing as your family are in a completely different country. You’ll be able to write to them, surely. And your friends.”
Dimitri gave a slightly bitter laugh, though it faded to a slightly softer expression when he saw the confused look on Guy’s face. “I didn’t…I didn’t really have any friends when I was at home.”
A tiny smile crossed over Guy’s lips then, and he nodded his head in understanding. “Neither did I.”
“Not a single one. They all thought I was weird.”
“Well you are a bit funny looking.” Dimitri reasoned. For once, the expression Guy saw was one of humour, and not the judgemental ones he was so used to. He found a laugh bubbling at his lips as he shoved at Dimitri’s arm playfully.
“You do! And I think you’re my bloody roommate too. So I’m going to be stuck with you for the next seven years.” Dimitri simply shoved him back, in the playfighting nature that the two of them would grow so used to as they grew together.
“You’re really lucky then. You get to share a room with someone as awesome as me.” Guy shot back, simply laughing when Harry nearly spilt his glass over when he was gesturing in conversation with Ed.
Guy blinked, looking up in shock. “What?”
Dimitri just grinned. “Bellend. I’ve decided that’s going to be your nickname. Bellingfield. Bellend. Pretty cool if you ask me.”
“You’re going to call me Bellend forever now aren’t you?”
As Guy settled back on his chair and continued to talk to Dimitri, Harry and the others, he didn’t know that his Father had in fact been right all along. These were the friends that he would have for the rest of his life. That much was true. But it was Dimitri Mitropoulos who would be his best friend through all those years.
It would be Dimitri who simply fell over laughing at him whenever he messed up in Rugby. Dimitri who would roll his eyes and kick him in the leg whenever he tried too hard at being funny.
Dimitri would be the one who simply lay awake in the bunk above him as they talked for hours on end about pointless things, all the while whilst shoving sweets in to their mouths.
Guy had gone to his best friend—the more accurate description would be ‘sprinted’ when they 18 years old on results day and he had been accepted in to Oxford. And poor Dimitri was the one who suffered from an attack hug that knocked them both to the ground when he told him he had done the same.
And, in the long run, Dimitri Mitropoulos would be standing next to him when the police came bursting through the door. It would be Dimitri who Guy was standing near as they stared at the barely breathing man on the floor. Dimitri had been the one that had barked something at one of the policemen when one of them had been a little too rough with Guy.
In the end, it had always been Dimitri who was there for Guy. And Guy would always be there in return. Because Dimitri Mitropoulos was the first proper friend Guy Bellingfield ever made.Even if they did have the occasional disagreement.
*“Mate. How long have we been friends?”“Since the first day of school, and you think I couldn’t be President because I’m Greek?”
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