The Elite Ten.

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.

“What’s your name?”

“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.”

“You didn’t?”

“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.

“Sod off. No I don’t.”

“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.

“As if, Bellend.”

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?”

“Most likely.”

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.

I just thought I’d share these with you all because they’re honestly brilliant. They’re all from this kickass twitter account : https://twitter.com/trctextposts?lang=en

You have no idea how sorry I am for going AWOL for a few weeks. I was working my way through a few stressful situations and it unfortunately took me away from my writing for a while. The asks have been pouring in! Although for some reason I am not notified when someone asks something anonymously. This is something I’m working on rectifying. I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you all! Third instalment of Regret is in the works [I really do need to come up with a better name for that] and I’m jumping right on the other requests I received too!

Hopefully everything is working out for me now so i’ll be able to update a lot more.

Strong language throughout, and I hope the first person narrative isn’t too grating. [I am so sorry for arrogant arsehole Dimitri. It hurt to write it. He’s one of my favourites]

Enjoy! -------------------

Ever since I was a little girl, some of my brother’s friends unnerved me. It wasn’t something I could put my finger on or explain—I mean, if he asked me I don’t think I’d ever be able to give him a straight answer. 

But that was just the thing with Harry. He never asked.

 It wasn’t that he didn’t notice, I think he just assumed I was behaving how any girl would when coming downstairs in the summer holidays to a room of ten older boys. A reaction of sheer awkwardness that seemed to wash its way up and down my body about twenty times within the first six seconds of standing in the room. But that was the summer before I finished college. When I could easily shut myself in my room to get away from it all.

 Harry had always been the kind of elder brother that would be one way when it was just the two of us, and another way entirely when he was with his friends. Our parents divorced when we were very small. Mother didn’t want anything to do with us and Father was always away with work, despite the fact that we allegedly lived with him. So we had spent most of our lives living in each-others pockets.

 It had been that way for some years now. Harry, Uncle Jeremy and myself. Which was one thing when we were young and chasing each other around the grounds as children and another when we were both university students that rarely sought each other’s company.

 But it just happened to be a chance encounter that set my life spinning in a whirl. It was my first year at Oxford, and for one of the first times in my life I felt that everything was going right for once. I was on one of the finest classics courses in the country, I had all my own space and ; of course I could spy on my elder brother. Blackmail material was extraordinarily hard to come by these days.   Within the first week of freshers I had already found a small group of friends and we had decided which pub would be deemed as our ‘local’.  It just so happened, much to my irritation, that it was also the favourite spot of my brother and his friends.

 I was trying to be inconspicuous. I really was. But I could still hear their little quips behind my back. 

“Fuck. Villiers is that your little sister?” Despite all of his crude comments and badly timed jokes; Toby Maitland had always been one of the nicer ones. It’s not that they were all horrible people.  I’m sure if I sat down and actually spoke to them all, I’d realise that they were all relatively nice, maybe even genuinely kind. But that’s the problem. There’s such a thing as being too nice. A point where ‘niceness’ in itself becomes artificial. A sort of distraction while they focused on something else. Call it a gut instinct if you want, but that was just the sort of atmosphere they gave off. An atmosphere that I had to constantly remind my friends of whenever I caught them gazing over at the boys.

 “Oh my god it is his little sister.”  “Oh don’t. Little tart was meant to go to Cambridge but she had to end up here and ruin all the fun.” 

Ah yes. My lovely, charming big brother. A glance in my peripheral vision showed me Harry, sitting between James and Dimitri, shaking his head at me as he held his glass to his lips. James tutted, smacking his friend on his arm. “That’s your sister mate. Why are you being so harsh?” “Because she’s an invalid.” Knobhead.

 There was a line, and as always my elder brother had flung himself over it. With a small sigh, I turned on my heel and shot him a blank look. 

“When you’re quite finished talking out of your arse, Harold.” “Oh don’t full name me you little—“ James just rolled his eyes, shoving his friend in the side to make him shut up. He smiled at me, moving Ed along by his collar to make some space. “Y/N, come and sit.” I sighed, taking another sip of my wine. “Sorry, I’m with my mates tonight. I think we’re heading to a club in a second so I don’t think there’s much point in me hanging around.” James didn’t look the slightest bit phased, he simply shrugged. “Bring them along. More the merrier and all that.” He said nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat again. Seemingly at the mention of girls, both Ed and Toby were suddenly paying strict attention to me. Apparently there is no limit to how cringe you can get.

 A glance to the other end of the pub showed me that my so called ‘mates’ had moved themselves as far away from me and my brothers’ group of friends as humanly possible, nearly standing outside of the pub itself.  “Actually,” I began, feeling the usual apprehension wash over me once again. “I think it’s just me.”

Guy stood with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, offering me his seat next to Harry instead. Despite our differences, I’d rather sit next to my brother than anyone else. “So,” Guy began, pushing George out of the way so he could sit opposite me at the table. “How are you finding University?” I paused, not entirely sure if any of them were genuinely interested or not. I knew for a fact that Harry wasn’t. He never was.

“Um,” Finding my voice, I shifted in my seat. “It’s good actually, yeah. I’m really enjoying my course. I’ve actually got quite a lot of work done.” “Oh great.” The nod from Guy was all too hollow, and in a matter of seconds he had returned to chatting idly to George. I leant back in the booth, focusing on nursing my glass of wine to my lips every now and then. I looked around the bar, attempting to ignore the glances from other girls. I must have looked a right tart, sitting with a group of boys. Harry was at my side, muttering insults to Ed and Toby as they attempted to come up with convincing pick-up lines. Most likely for my friends.

 It was when I turned my head to look out of the window that I was met with Dimitri. That gut feeling was back again. Holding my drink to my lips again, I managed a somewhat crooked smile. 

“Hi.” “…Hi.” He repeated after a second. “It’s been a while.” “It has hasn’t it.” I could already feel that the conversation was drying up before it had even begun. Suddenly drinking a large mouthful of wine seemed like a brilliant idea. The last time I had properly seen Dimitri he had been over from Eton with my brother for the weekend. Back then I was a short and slightly chubby 14 year old with braces. “…You’ve certainly changed.” Admittedly I had to bite back an indignant laugh at that. There was no doubting it, my brother Harry was pretty. Handsome didn’t cut it, he was pretty. However, I for one, inherited none of that gene. At least I don’t believe I did. I look decidedly plain when I stand next to him. It’s amazing what a crush it can have on your self-confidence when you have to navigate through your awkward teenage years with a brother who will always always be prettier and more flawless than you. Arrogant arsehole.

 I had long ago gotten used to the whole ‘you’ve changed’ spiel. It usually came when you were known to have braces for the extent of your life and suddenly didn’t have them anymore. I understand the shock. But it didn’t make having it said to me any less irritating. “I guess I have. It’s been a while.” I nodded twice, swirling my wine in my glass, keeping my eyes focused on that and that alone.

 It had already occurred to me that he wasn’t looking at my face. Suddenly, letting my friends convince me in to a tight red dress before we came out wasn’t a good idea anymore. I didn’t feel comfortable. Not one bit. But here I was, stuck between my oblivious idiot of a brother, with his annoyingly perfect teeth and a boy who I hadn’t seen since I was 14 who was currently staring at my chest without a care in the world.  

 “Y/N I must say, you’re looking rather different tonight.” Guy was half smirking in to his drink when he spoke to me. I shifted in my seat, a little closer to Harry without thinking. 

“Someone learnt how to put on a dress.” Ed tittered, slinging an arm around Toby as he raised his brows at me. Guy just chortled. “Knows how to work one too.” Before their laughter had even started, Harry had spoken up. “Don’t be disgusting prats, alright?” It was nothing much. It certainly wasn’t a Shakespearean act of heroicness but this is Harry I’m talking about. It was as close as I was probably going to get. Dimitri rolled his eyes indignantly. “Oh and you haven’t said worse things? You’re horrible to girls. You’re always coming out with dirty shit.” “Not to my fucking sister though.” All the humour was out of his face when he spoke. Dimitri just held up his hands. “I’m just saying mate. The double standards are there. You can’t talk shit to women and then get arsey when someone does the same to her.” Part of me wanted to lean across and pour his drink on to his head. But I realised that it wouldn’t be the best plan of action seeing as I was still very much stuck where I was.

 Harry had flipped Dimitri off. I could hear him muttering obscenities in to his drink as he sipped at it. There was a pause, and then he looked to me.  I could almost see a flash of concern in his eyes. 

“You okay, Nemo?” He whispered, loud enough for me to just hear him. It was as if I had just been slapped in the face with nostalgia. I was sure that if I closed my eyes I’d be a little girl who had scraped her knee in the garden. Nemo. A pet-name I hadn’t heard in a long time. Because I was small, stubborn and always getting lost and needing to be found again.

 He likes to think he’s funny.

 With a smile I hadn’t shared with him for a long time, I managed a little nod. It was my third glass of wine that night, I could already feel it all going to my head. “I’m fine, H.”

I could feel how close Dimitri was to me. His leg was resting against mine in the booth, but I didn’t let it get to me. Knowing my brother’s friends, they’d probably get more of a kick out of it if I reacted. Harry’s eyes flicked to Guy and Ed once again, before he looked back at me. “If you want to go you can.”  Apparently I looked more visibly uncomfortable than I was letting on.  He slid along the booth, standing with his pint in his hand.

 It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster in my life. I mumbled a simple and brief goodbye to my brother, and a little wave to a drunken Toby before I exited the pub as quickly as I could. 

 So much for friends. I had hoped they would wait for me outside. But all I was met with was the dark cobbled streets of Oxford. I could hear students chatting and shouting around the corner, near the main entrance to the pub. But where I was standing at the side was desolate.

 When I was just about to consider phoning one of my friends and asking where they were, I heard the door open again. I would have turned to look, but by then I had already been pushed in to a wall. It didn’t take me too long to figure out who it was. Even if the darkness of the street. Dimitri.

 The stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath was almost unbearable, especially when he had his face this close to mine. Try as might to wriggle my way out, he had his hands tightly on my wrists. 

“What the fuck are you doing---“ “Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?” Before I could even reply I had been forced in to an unwanted kiss. The stench of alcohol was stronger now, and his hands were moving down slowly. I twisted my head away, trying to kick at his legs. Nothing was working. “Get the fuck away from me!” It must have been how loudly I shouted. It must have been the sudden realisation that people would hear. Something made him panic. Something made him shove me back suddenly, regardless of the fact it made my head smack in to the corner of the wall.

 A harsh white pain flashed in my mind. The adrenalin rush and the alcohol were making my mind reel. I could still taste the smoke on my tongue, feel the hands in places that I didn’t’ want them to be. I slid down the wall, already feeling the tears running down my cheek uncontrollably.

I could hear shouting, lots of shouting. The sounds of a scuffle, and the unmistakeable noise of my brother swearing.

 A hand was on my shoulder, and a deep voice in my ear. “Sweetheart. Can you hear me?”  Despite the pain it caused me, I managed to crack open my eyes. Only to see a very concerned Hugo looking down at me, his hand on the back of my head. It took a few moments for my vision to adjust to the darkness but when they did I saw all too much.

 Dimitri Mitropoulos was leaning against the opposite wall, Guy at his side. He was holding on to his nose and blood was seeping through his fingers. I couldn’t exactly hear what was being shouted but I knew it was very colourful. So colourful, in fact, that a crowd of students were rapidly gathering around the scene.

 There, standing in the centre of the street, was my big brother. With his fist clenched at his side and blood staining his knuckles. His chest was heaving and his eyes were dark. He had never looked more like our Father in his life. There was another scuffle which consisted of Guy tugging his best friend away down the street, and Ed and Toby attempting to hold Harry back from storming after him with all their might.

 “You’ve just hit your head a little bit.” Hugo’s voice brought my attention back to my current predicament.  “Am I bleeding?” “No. Just swelling up a little that’s all. Can you see?” “Mhmm.” I managed, bringing a hand to my face.

 “Fuck. Fuck. Y/N.” Harry had skidded to his knees. In a flash he was cupping my face, tilting my head up so he could look in to my eyes. It was strange, seeing someone as calm and collected as Harry look as if he was about to break down at any moment. He was shaking his head over and over again. “Are you alright? D-Do you want me to call an ambulance—“

“Villiers. Calm down.” Hugo began, ever the voice of reason. “She just bumped her head. We’ll call the nurse, get her to give her a once over. She doesn’t need an ambulance.” Hugo mumbled, his hand still on the back of my head as George and Ed knelt down around me, all of them asking if I was alright hurriedly.

 Ed looked owlishly from Hugo to Harry. “S-Should we help her up?”

Harry shook his head, taking Hugo’s place after a second. “No. No I’ve got her.” He slid his arm under my legs, his other tucking across my shoulder blades. “Come on Nemo. Up you come.” He mumbled, lifting me up in to his arms. And once again, I was back to being the little girl with the grazed knee.

 I heard Hugo bark something about the campus nurse to Ed and Toby, but I didn’t pay much attention. 

“When did you get strong?” I mumbled, in a somewhat dazed state. He laughed, though it sounded more like he was gasping through shaking breaths. “I was always strong.” He shot back, still holding me in his arms as he walked. “Just like you were always pathetic.” “Sod off.”  I attempted to pull a face at him, but stopped when I felt the pain in my head again. Harry blinked, the concern back on his face in seconds. 

I am so sorry this has taken so long! This past week or so has been a deadline week at Uni so it’s all been a bit hectic. I’m so overwhelmed by how popular the first instalment has been! Thank you so much for the notes! Like before, Strong Language throughout. It wouldn’t be the Riot Boys without it. Enjoy! 

“So let me get this straight, mate.” Toby began, letting out a sigh as he slumped his backpack on to the floor. As he plonked himself  down into the booth seat he looked to his friend with an extremely unimpressed expression. “You missed all your lectures this morning because you were up late watching—“

“The new season of American Horror Story.” George finished for him, shrugging as if it were nothing. He looked back down at the Tupperware box he was eating from,poking a lump of meat around with his fork. George was always one for reheating leftovers, no matter how disgusting they may appear. He stopped, lifting his head after a moment when he noticed Toby hadn’t replied. The boy in question was simply staring at him in bemusement. “...George?” “Hmm?” “You’re an idiot.” “Roger that.” Nodding, he placed the Tupperware down and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I was bored of working. I needed something fun to do.” “I asked you if you wanted to come out! And you said you were busy! All you did was watch Netflix!” “Exactly.” George shot back, reaching for his beer. “I was busy.” Smacking his forehead with his hand,Toby sighed and mumbled something about being far too hungover to deal with something like this. “What time did you stop watching shite then?” “About 10:00.” There was another pause, as Toby slowly lifted his head from his hand. “10:00?” He echoed. “Then how are you so tired?” George lent back against the booth again, almost collapsing into himself as he took his fork in hand once again. “...It scared me a little bit.”

Before Toby could even begin to insult his friend, he was interrupted by a rather exasperated looking Hugo entering the room. He placed his bag on the floor gently, as opposed to Toby’s hurried slump. With his glass of wine in hand, Hugo finally let out a slightly refined sigh. “You look as eloquently pissed off with humanity's existence as ever.” Toby began, shooting Hugo one of his usual toothy grins.  The older boy simply looked at him levelly. “Not humanity’s existence, Toby. Just yours.” Ignoring the ‘oooh’s from George, Toby simply lent back in his seat and rolled his eyes. Bit by bit, the others boys came filtering into the room, and in no time at all their usual spot was packed tightly with them all.

It was James who entered with Guy. He may not have been President any longer, but a club member was a club member. Plus, if Guy had to be brutally honest, he needed all the help he could get running the rabble that he called his friends. “Right. Chaps.” Settling himself between James and Dimitri, Guy knocked on the table. “Meeting is in session. At the moment we’re looking at nine members, which means that we need to find a tenth--” “Wait.” George interrupted, leaning forward. “Don’t you mean we have eight? I thought Ryle and Richards--” “Well. If you let me finish speaking,” Guy began, looking at George imploringly before he continued. “It...appears that Milo has changed his mind.”

Hugo was suddenly very aware that most eyes were on him. He rolled his eyes and set his glass down. “I don’t know why you’re all staring at me. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I haven’t said a word.” “Well you do have a crush.” Harry pointed out. “A whopping great gay one.” Toby continued. Hugo was looking more and more decidedly ‘done’ with the situation as they went on. “What are you all trying to insinuate? That he suddenly had a rampant change of sexuality overnight and decided to come back? Grow up. And the correct phrasing is ‘had a crush’’. Past tense.” He took another sip of his wine, pulling his face at the bitter taste. “I no longer have feelings for him or anything to do with him.” Struggling not to laugh, Guy simply shook his head and looked back at his drink. “Alright then, your highness. Anyway, Milo called me last week and we got to talking and basically, chaps--” He stopped, counting heads. He looked to Toby after a second. “Where’s Ed?”

A small groan was heard from Toby then as he finished the rest of his beer and shook his head. “He’s over there.” Guy craned his neck to look at his friend, who was standing at the bar somewhat awkwardly. “Is he still waiting to order his drink?” Toby shook his head, looking to his friend sympathetically. “Oh no. He’s not even ordered his drink. He’s just standing there. Like a twat. Because he is one. ” All it took Dimitri was a moment. Before it had all clicked in his mind and he simply heaved out a sigh. “Christ. There’s a new bar girl isn’t there?” “Mm-hmm.” “For fuck’s sake. What does he think he’s going to achieve?” Dimitri muttered, still watching with an unimpressed expression. Harry just snickered. “I don’t know. But I’m watching. This is going to be bloody hilarious.” If Ed Montgomery had turned around, he would have noticed that all eight of his friends were currently leaning out of the booth in a somewhat comical fashion to see what he was doing. Even if that did mean that Guy was leaning over Dimitri’s lap to see. But Ed didn’t turn around. He was too busy trying to remember how to speak.  He had already let about three people in front of him in the queue so he could think.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he knew he had a meeting to attend and that he should probably use his brain, buy his drink and attempt to, heaven forbid, talk to a member of the opposite sex later. But this was Ed. His priorities were nothing if not slightly jilted.  

Oh fuck she’s looking at me. Ed straightened a little, finally managing to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. She was smiling at him, but he was telling himself that she was smiling because it was all part of the job, not because she wanted to. Her red hair was twisted up into a practical pony tail, and he could see that she had tried and failed to cover the freckles that were dotted across her nose and cheeks with makeup. “What can I get you, then? You’ve taken your time in deciding.” She was already reaching for a glass from the shelf. Ed cleared his throat. “Uhm. J-Just a pint of bitter please.” She raised an eyebrow, pulling down on the pump to fill up the glass. “All that decision making for a pint of bitter?”

Ed was fiddling with the strap on his bag awkwardly, but when he looked up at her and saw the teasing smile and the humour in her eyes he found himself smiling back, a small ember of confidence igniting. “Well it’s a very serious matter, beer.” He replied. The girl laughed then, the action causing her freckles to twist on her cheeks as she scrunched her face up. She nodded her head in amusement. “Well said.” “What the fuck.” Harry had a similar expression on his face to the other boys. “He actually made a girl laugh?” “Well we didn’t exactly hear what he said.” Dimitri reminded him, sliding his sunglasses in to his pocket. “For all we know it could still be one of the usual ‘I’m just laughing so you get away from me you utter weirdo’ laughs. Villiers, mate, calm down. They’re not going to get married.” “It’s Ed though.” James reasoned, turning the page in his book. “He’ll marry the first woman that breaks his dry spell.”

Ed could hear the laughter from the table in the corner of the room, but didn’t dare look. He smiled and accepted the glass when she passed it to him, handing her the money a second later. “New job?” The girl rolled her eyes. “Just a new pub. Same job.” She looked around the pub idly, watching as students talked to one another in clumped groups. “Same shit different toilet as my Dad says.”

Ed was certain he would have choked on his beer if he had been drinking, which he thankfully wasn’t. He had paid, he had taken his beer. What else was there left for him to do at the bar? There was already people behind him, and he knew she probably wanted to get onto serving the next customer.

Shuffling to the side he took a hesitant sip of his beer. When she had pulled the pints for the boy behind him, he spoke again as she rounded up the total on the till. “Ed.” He began, before he realised it wasn’t the greatest of sentence starters. “That’s my name.” He added hurriedly. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she passed the other student his change. “Becca.” “Would the gentleman in the terrible jumper please get a bloody move on?!” Guy had timed it well, cupping his hands around his face to make his voice louder. Ed had never gone scarlet quicker in his life. He was staring down at his beer, but when he finally chanced a glance up he noticed she was struggling not to laugh. “I should...I should probably--” He just gestured awkwardly behind him. “Yep.” Becca just nodded, pursing her lips in attempt not to laugh. “Bye.” “...Bye.” “I fucking hate all of you.” He hissed as soon as he sat down.; his usual spot on the counter near the booth itself. The laughter from the other boys was nearly enough to drown his words out. “You’re all arseholes.” “Oh Ed for god’s sake it’s a girl.” Dimitri was shaking his head, still laughing. “You can buy yourself a girl any time you like.” Ed was just muttering obscenities under his breath, more focused on drinking his beer. Harry just smirked to himself, looking across the bar. “I mean I don’t blame you. Not often you find a hot ginger.” Ed’s head shot up then, paling a little. “Oh no no no no... come on. Don’t. Villiers.” Harry frowned, looking to him. “What? I can’t say she’s hot? She’s not your girlfriend, idiot.”

Ed just rolled his eyes. “If you go and talk to her she’s just going to end up in your bed.” “It’s a curse but it’s also a blessing.” Harry just grinned, causing an eyeroll from James. Guy on the other hand was looking at Ed in concern. “You’re being serious? Ed just because a girl isn’t instantly creeped out by you doesn’t mean true love.” “Yeah, you’ve only known her for 5 minutes. She has plenty of time to find out you’re a creep--ow.” Toby just rubbed his arm, pulling a face at Ed after he had been hit. Ed just sighed. “Can we drop it please? Haven’t you got something to tell us?” Guy nodded, finally turning back to business. “As I was saying boys. Operation Grasshopper. We need a new member by the end of the month otherwise the entire dinner is buggered. As I was saying to the boys while you were off trying to be bloody Casanova, Ed,  Milo--” “Is standing right there.” James finished for him. All the boys looked up in unison. 

(First post! Yay!  So one of the first requests I received was asking for a continuation of The Riot Club. It’s something I’ve been considering for quite a while, so I thought I’d go ahead and roll with it. I have no idea where I’m going with the title, and it’s likely to change to something that’s slightly more interesting that ‘Regret’ of all things. Ask box is open and requests are welcomed! Strong Language. Enjoy!) “Fuck off.” Guy Bellingfield wasn’t entirely sure when he had taken to swearing at his morning alarm, but that was just the way things seemed to be these days. He had tried, in honesty, to convince himself to be more proactive in the mornings. He had chosen the loudest and most agitating sound option on his phone in an effort to actually make him get out of bed for his 9:00am lectures. That wasn’t really working for him either.  Scrabbling groggily for his phone, which was somewhere in the masses of covers and blankets on his bed, he managed to hit the snooze button hastily. Silence. A welcomed one; seeing as he felt like all the types of migraines known to man were taking turns in making his head a battlefield. He didn’t want to know what had happened the night before, in fact, he was fairly certain he didn’t even remember what had happened the night before.  There was the alarm again, an abrupt reminder that he was wasting time wallowing in hangover induced self-pity. Heaving out a sigh, Guy sat up in bed. Almost immediately the light peeking through the side of the curtains stabbed at his eyes viciously. He groaned, scrunching his face up in pain. After a moment to collect himself, he looked to his left. There was no-one next to him, thank god. The last thing he needed was to deal with a girl whom he had dragged home in a drunken stupor. Girls who nearly always expected a phone call. Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, Guy scratched at his bare chest and tried to muster the strength he needed to stand up and shower. As soon as he opened the door to his en-suite he was graced with the charming smell of vomit. And, to his surprise, a body lying on its front near the toilet. After a few seconds of simply staring Guy sighed and leant against the doorframe. “Tubes.” There was no response from the curly haired boy, who simply grumbled something and shifted his head on the tiled floor. Guy lightly poked him in the side with his foot. “Toby.”  Still no response. Rolling his eyes, Guy prodded him again. A little harder this time for good measure. “Tubes, mate. Get off my bloody bathroom floor.” A strangled cough, and then Toby lifted his head a little. “Oh. Hi Guy. W…What are you doing here?” His voice was ragged, slurred, and Guy found himself wondering if the other boy was stull drunk. “Oh you know. Just attempting to live here.” His wit was as dry as always.  With a small shake of his head Guy continued to look down at his friend. “Are you going to move your arse? I need to shower.” “I won’t look.” “Tubes for fuck’s sake get out of my bathroom.” Guy had tugged his friend to his feet, shaking his head all the while. “I can’t believe you chundered in my fucking—“ “I’m sorry!”

“I have a bloody lecture to go to you absolute nonce.” Guy was still shaking his head, though he was finding it hard to not to burst in to laughter at the sight of his friend, who’s hair was sticking up at odds and ends, and was paler than death itself. “Get out, Tubes. Go to bed. And make sure you’re at the pub by eight o’clock. Club meeting, remember?” “G-Got it.”“Arsehole.” *

After sitting through what proved to be one of the most exasperating lectures of the term, Guy found himself walking through the hallways of the college, aimlessly attempting to find something to do with himself. It was then that he came across one Harry Villiers. He was leaning against the ancient stone wall, occupying himself with smoking and, as always, encompassing the ‘I don’t give a shit about anyone but myself’ attitude that was Harry Villiers as a person. Guy stopped, looking to him with a little nod as he stood with his hands in his trench-coat pockets. “Alright  mate?” Harry blinked, seemingly only just noticing the other boy. He straightened, nodding after a moment. “Mate, what the fuck happened last night?” Guy was already rolling his eyes with a smile, shifting the strap of his satchel on his shoulder. “I don’t want to know. But I woke up with the headache from hell and Tubes passed out on my bloody bathroom floor.”

Harry splurted out a laugh then, falling in to step with Guy as they walked through the long  stone corridors. “Savage. Is he still there?” “I managed to deposit him at his flat before my lecture. My loo stinks of his chunder.” “Not as bad as when he vommed all over Dimitri’s car.” Harry reasoned, to which Guy just rolled his eyes fondly. “Don’t. He was sulking about that car for weeks. Giving something as expensive as that ruddy thing to the homeless is just—“ “Mate.” Harry interrupted, throwing his arm out suddenly, causing Guy to stop dead. Usually, whenever Harry stopped him in the corridor, it was because he had seen a girl. Or, as Guy had taken to mentally referring to them, his next target. That was always the way with Harry. Another notch in his belt. Another bragging excuse. Another opportune moment, when one of the boys would state a woman in a bar was more than slightly attractive, for Harry to glance up, shrug and simply say ‘I’ve already tapped that’.  But, much to Guy’s surprise, this wasn’t a new target. This was a face he knew all too well. A face who bared a reminder for something he was trying all too hard to forget.  

Lauren Small.  

“Isn’t that Milo’s girl?” Harry’s voice was somewhat distant to him. Echoing almost. She hadn’t seen them. Not yet. She was talking to a group of her friends, books in her arms as they walked down some steps towards the library.  And then all of a sudden the memories came flooding back. Girls For Now. Girls For Later. Crashing glasses, manic laughter, watching as Ed pressed her against a door and forced his lips on hers and how he had just---why? Why had he just stood there and let it happen? Why had he let an innocent girl be completely humiliated at their expense?  He remembered Miles fighting against Dimitri and Harry. Remembered his pleading, his desperate shouting of her name as she fled the scene. Guy felt a twist in his gut. Just a hangover. He told himself. That’s all it is. A hangover. “Mate are you even listening to me?” It had suddenly become obvious that Harry had been trying to speak to him as he had phased out. The light smack on the cheek from the aforementioned boy also proved that. Guy blinked, sucking in a breath through his nose. “Sorry?” “I said that’s Milo’s old girl.”  “What of it?” Forcing the detached tone of voice, Guy managed a one shouldered shrug and continued to walk   “What do you mean what of it? It’s a bloody miracle she didn’t call the police.” Harry muttered, falling in to step with Guy once again. Guy closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh, and we escaped that night without getting arrested, did we? Fuck me. I must be imaging things, Villiers.”

I know I’m more than a little late to the hype here, but I’ve been more than a tad obsessed with this film since it came out. I’m a Creative Writing student at University in England, and I often find myself writing about these obnoxious, entitled idiots instead of my own work, so I thought I might as well write for other people instead! I will be posting a mixture of my own short stories and will be taking requests for one shots with either the boys themselves or OC’s/Imagines.