PARIS | emily in paris

𝐨𝐨. 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

( 𝘨𝘪𝘧: 𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦 )

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆.

Gabriel had never resonated with Pablo Neruda's poetry, until he met Dorothea Makris. That line made sense to him then, the second she left, and the years that followed in her wake. There hasn't been a day he hadn't felt her absence like an open wound inside him. 

He assumed with time he would heal. Isn't that what they all said? That time healed wounds. Well, they couldn't be more wrong. Only Pablo Neruda seemed to understand what it meant to love and loose someone. Time didn't turn the pain into a bruise, a dull ache when brushed. No. Dorothea Makris wasn't a bruise. She was a tsunami, and Gabriel had been destroyed by her, and now he drowned as she left.

Somehow, he managed to piece himself back into a shell of what he used to be. Gabriel moved to Paris with a new job opportunity as head chef, he met a blonde artiste named Camille who believed in him, and slowly but surely, he tucked away Dorothea into a drawer of his mind, only occasionally thinking of her at midnight, staring at the same sky and wondering whether she was doing the same. 

Luckily, Gabriel would throw himself into work enough to forget her most of the time. 

The same couldn't be said for Dorothea Makris.

The Greek girl hardly ever though about Gabriel. She wouldn't admit it, but she had a special talent for ignoring her problems and hiding away her feelings. Five years ago, when the French boy she had come to love laid his heart out to her, she got scared.

And what happens when Dorothea gets scared? She runs.

So that's what she did. By the time Gabriel had realised the empty space next to him in his bed, Dorothea was halfway across the sea to England. She scrubbed herself clean from every part of her Gabriel had touched, determined to not regret her decision.

And what better way to not regret something than by not thinking about it? So that's exactly what she did. Dorothea did not think about Gabriel if she could help it. 

Which was why being back in France resulted in a needle that dug into her chest at the memories of a certain French boy. But Dorothea shook away those feelings, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose as she strutted down the hallway. It wasn't like she'd run into him anyways. She was in Paris, he lived in Normandy. 

"Dorothea! You're back!" Luc's white tuffs of hair made him look his usual comical self, pulling the young girl into a hug. "It's been years, non?"

 Dorothea hummed in agreement, forcing down the reminiscence. "Yet here I am. Is the American girl here yet?"

"Oui, it's a disaster." Luc whispered loudly, leading her down towards the meeting room. "She doesn't speak any French."

"Well, that's what I'm here for." she retorted, though not sounding very happy about it.

Entering the room, Dorothea recognised everyone but a certain brunette, who immediately stood up at her presence with a smile on her face. "Hi! I'm Emily. I was just finishing my presentation."

"Good to have you back, Dorothea." Sylvia spoke in French, dismissing the group with a wave of her hand. 

Emily glanced between the two before being left alone with Dorothea, pressing her lips together. "Overwhelming, I know. Sylvie is a tough nut to crack."

"Tell me about it." Emily muttered, smiling back at the Greek girl. "Hey, do I recognise you?"

Dorothea shrugged. "Maybe. I'm a journalist. Though I'm just been hired to write my own column for Le Monde about love and sex."

At the mention, Emily widened her eyes in familiarity, snapping her fingers together. "Oh, you're Dorothea Makris! I follow you on Instagram."

"Nice to have a fan." at Emily's shy look, Dorothea added "Are you new to Paris then?"

"Extremely." Emily added awkwardly. "It's weird being in a country I don't speak the language of and not knowing anyone."

Dorothea felt a wave of sympathy, and extending an invitation. "Hey, why don't we grab a coffee round the corner? I can show you the ropes of Paris."

Emily's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, that would be fantastic."

Of course, Dorothea would live to regret this. For as soon as they turned the corner, Emily's eyes recognised a certain person walking their way, and called them over. "Oh my god it's my neighbour! Let me introduce you. Gabriel, hey!"

And that's when Dorothea's smile froze, and she felt her heart stop momentarily. Surely not . . . yet there he was. Dorothea could have laughed at the look of pure surprise on his face if she weren't sure that her face had the exact same look. 

And that's when Gabriel realised that it didn't matter how much time had passed, it only took a look at her face to be flooded by the memories and his feelings for her. 

For she was a tsunami. 

And he was drowning. 

dorothea is gabriel's daisy jones (if you get that reference i love you, if not i recommend the book 'daisy jones & the six' it's so good)