WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL || tommy shelby x reader

chapter five

You went inside via the kitchen, all the while trying to ignore the way your heart was thumping uncomfortably in your body.

You wouldn't exactly call it karma, but Tommy getting back early just as you'd decided to leave again didn't strike you as a mere coincidence. Maybe it was a sign—maybe it was a punishment. Either way, you were about to find out.

You splashed your face with water in the kitchen, stomping down that sick feeling in your stomach as best as you could. You wouldn't falter in front of Tommy, not like this, not after so long. You'd grown, you'd changed, and you wanted him to notice.

Tension floated in the air as you made your way to the main house. It was huge, and you had no clue where they'd be inside. The drawing room, the dining room, Tommy's office? Maybe one of the other reception rooms?

You reached the main lobby; the house was utterly silent.

You swallowed uncomfortably, straightening yourself out. You forced your walls to build themselves up. "Polly?" You spoke, and your voice echoed throughout the house.

"They're in the drawing room, Miss," A voice spoke from behind you. Mary, the maid, stood at the top of the landing. You peered up at her, your face blank. You didn't reply, but instead forced yourself to start moving towards the drawing room.

The corridor shadows covered you as you approached the door to the drawing room, stopping outside. The door was ajar, light pouring out onto the corridor floorboards beneath you. The breath hitched in the back of your throat when you heard his muffled voice—

"I didn't send it," Tommy said, and you knew what they were talking about; the wedding invitation.

"Then you know who did," Polly replied, her voice stern.

You inhaled deeply, forcing your anxiety down into the depths of your body. Without hesitation, you pushed open the door, your vision flooding with the evening light.

All pairs of eyes, but one, fell to you.

"I went for a ride," You said bluntly, and Polly furrowed her brows at you. John looked from you to Tommy and back again. Arthur's stare was reserved for the floor. Michael looked directly at you, his face soft. Tommy stood by the large windows, showcasing the rolling fields of outer Birmingham. His back was turned to you.

"Come, Y/N. Have a drink," Polly said. Her voice felt small.

"I'm fine here," You replied, but there was a harsh edge to your words. Polly recoiled, adjusting her position on the sofa.

Just seeing the back of Tommy's head was enough to make you feel sick, but there was something more mixed within—

Anger.

Red, red, rage.

Within you, somehow, you knew you wouldn't choke.

"Are you going to look at me at all, Thomas, or will you be speaking with your back turned to the room?"

A cold breeze floated through the room as your words settled into the air. No one moved, no one spoke. Tommy tapped the glass of whiskey in his hands.

"I wasn't aware I would be the one talking," Slowly, he turned around—

Your eyes hit his. The same striking blue, the same sharp jaw, the same hollowed out cheekbones. Tommy Shelby stood before you, two years older—

Broken.

You didn't feel sick at all.

"I thought I would be the one listening," He continued. A sour taste appeared on your tongue.