Dimitri Mitropoulos

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I never imagined I'd date someone like Dimitri. I don't mean it in a bad way, it's just the fact that we belong from backgrounds that are a world apart from each other. He's rich, and posh, and completely spoilt; on the other hand, I'm medium class and definitely not posh. And well, Dimitri's also an asshole.
I knew it from the start. The way he carried himself, the expression on his face, the tone of his voice when he spoke, it all gave it away. When we first met, I disliked him so much I couldn't even be in his presence, I was always avoiding him. That was something he was not used to, which caused him to become intrigued by my behavior, and gain an interest in me. He then asked me on a date, an invitation that I neglected at first, but after a few days of his persistence, I gave in. See, he did swoon me away on that first date. Not because of the restaurant, or because of his car, but by how hard he tried to make a good impression on me. After that, we continued seeing each other until we established a stable relationship. That is, until he messed up.
It wasn't him who told me about it, it was one of his friends. According to him, Dimitri cheated on me with some girl a few nights ago when they were drunk. I confronted him about it, and he ended up admitting everything, which provoked an argument between us and caused our breakup.
During the week that we've been apart, I've received no less than seven flower bouquets, a dozen boxes of my favorite chocolates, and a few pieces of jewelry I still haven't seen. All of them with a note, but the same words written on each one: "I'm sorry."
Friday night, and I don't feel like going out. Instead, I lay on my bed, my laptop over my legs, an episode of Gossip Girl playing on the screen. I reach over for a handful of popcorn, which I eat while I watch Blair and Chuck kiss on the back of his limo. This has to be my favorite scene out of all the series, the start of pretty much the best tv pairing ever to exist.
I groan as I hear two soft knocks on my door. I pause the episode and look up to the ceiling, contemplating the idea of just ignoring the knocking. Two more knocks interrupt the thought, and I put the laptop aside as I rise to my feet. I walk to the door and open it.
I immediately regret it.
"Hello," says the dark-haired boy that's standing on the hallway holding a dozen roses.
I don't say anything, I just move to close the door, before he sticks his foot inside, not allowing me to do so.
"Seriously, Dimitri?" I ask, annoyed.
"Just a minute, please," he asks, softly. I step aside, letting him walk inside. I close the door behind him and turn around to face him, arms folded over my chest. "Here," he extends his arm, holding out the bouquet.
"I think I've got plenty of those," I say. He looks over to where the bouquets lay and smiles timidly.
I walk to my bedside table and grab the bag in which I put the boxes of jewelry I received from him.
"I can't accept these," I tell him, giving him the bag. He takes a look at it and tries to hand it to me. "Come on, Dimitri,"
"They're yours," he says. "They're a gift,"
"One that I can't accept," I insist.
We stand there, looking at each other, not bothering to say anything. Not even a silence like this feels awkward. His eyes don't leave mine, they search them as if he's trying to find an answer he needs oh so badly.
"I'm sorry," he finally mutters.
"Yeah I think your notes said the same thing over and over," I sit down on the bed, and it takes him a second to sit down next to me.
"I mean it," he says, playing with his fingers. I look down to his hands, and my stomach turns as I notice his bloody knuckles. I quickly take his hands into mine and I examine them closely.
"What the fuck happened to your hands?" I ask him, sounding way more concerned and worried than what I wanted to.
"I - uh... I punched my wall?" He says, shrugging. "Repeatedly,"
"Holy shit, Dimitri," I say. His lips curve into a smile. "What?"
"You're worried," he answers, simply. I drop his hands on his lap and look away from him. "Don't do that,"
"Do what?" I ask. He reaches and places a hand over my shoulder, getting closer to me.
"Don't turn away from me like that," he says, softly. I close my eyes and bite my lip at the sound of his voice. He sounds sad. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I screwed up, I'm a bloody idiot... but I never wanted to hurt you,"
I don't say anything, not because I don't want to, but because I don't know what to say. A tear falls down my cheek, one that I quickly wipe away.
"Oh, (Y/N)," says Dimitri, noticing it. He quickly pulled me closer to him and wrapped me in his arms, resting his head over mine.
I hesitate, not hugging him back at first until his embrace becomes tighter. My arms snake up around his torso, and I realize. I need this. I squeeze myself upon his chest, humming softly in delight.
He places a soft kiss on me temple, having understood my message. I forgive him.
"I love you," he whispers, loud enough for me to hear. I nod.
"Me too," I answer. "And please, don't fuck this up, you asshole,"
"I won't. I can't afford to lose you," he says, before kissing me on the lips.
The kiss is soft, short and sweet. But hell, it means the world to me.

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