WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL || tommy shelby x reader

chapter eleven

You took a drag from your fourth cigarette in twenty minutes, desperately trying to wrap your mind around what had just occurred in the last hour—

Joseph Kinsmen was worse than you'd thought.

Tommy Shelby had followed you.

Your forgery had been successful.

Martin was gay—and that was the only revelation that you could understand.

You inhaled as deeply as you could before your lungs would cry out, and let the smoke out incredibly slowly. You just needed something to hold onto; to feel something that was real. The furthest thing away from something you could hold onto was cigarette smoke, yet here you were; clinging onto it for dear life as the rest of the evening events whipped past you like a bullet.

How had this happened?

How?

You'd told Martin everything—not stopping to dwell too much on the past. Two years ago; leaving home; Birmingham; the Shelby's—all of it.

Besides Tommy.

"Sounds like an incredible tale," Martin said, his split skin finally bandaged up. He sat opposite you in the living room, puffing on a cigarette and sipping at straight vodka.

"I wish it was a tale. It was all real," You said, your eyes plastered to the floor, cigarette dangling from your fingertips precariously.

"And what of Thomas Shelby?" Martin chided. You didn't look up at him, knowing that the face that would meet yours would be smug. You forced yourself to straighten up, moving your gaze to the door behind Martin's head.

"What of him?"

Martin stubbed out his cigarette frantically, his eyes widening. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You really think I'm that inept?" He downed his vodka, standing up slowly and hesitantly, his bones creaking. He made his way to the bar. "Tommy Shelby and you. You and Tommy Shelby. There's something there. It's as obvious as the bruises on my face," He poured himself another vodka then turned to you, leaning on the bar.

You took a long drag, keeping the smoke inside your lungs for a few seconds, before exhaling it out. It obscured your face from Martin, and that's exactly what you wanted. You didn't want to be having this conversation at all.

When you didn't reply, Martin grabbed the bottle of gin from the bar and stumbled back to the sofas. He messily refilled your glass, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Ah. So, it was like that, huh?" He said gravely, his smug smile dropping off his face completely.

"Like what?" You let out, but your voice sounded venomous. Martin noticed your tone immediately.

"This is just a guess, Y/N. But I reckon it's somewhere along the lines of falling in love for the first time with a man like Tommy Shelby. He doesn't hold things close that are dear to him, he pushes them away. He's business orientated, he's always busy with something or somebody else, he's dangerous," You let Martin keep talking. "I also want to bet that who you are today is partly because of him. You push people away when they want to dig deeper, you never settle, you're always in your own head in one form or the other,"

You almost choked on your cigarette smoke.

"Just a guess, though, right?" You replied, but there was something reassuring about how easily Martin had summed everything up. You stubbed out your cigarette and took a gulp of gin. "It's in the past, Martin. All of that is in the past,"

"I'm not so sure about that," Martin said quizzically. "Did you see the way he looked at us when you held my hand? Why do you think I said I was gay?"