WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL || tommy shelby x reader

chapter eighteen

When you came back to reality your brow was drenched in sweat. You'd slammed your bedroom door behind you, after running as soon as those three words had left Tommy's mouth—

I never stopped.

Tommy Shelby, despite Grace, his wedding, his child; hadn't ceased to love you.

Instead, he had trodden it to the ground, happy and in love with his wife; his love for you being harboured deep beneath the blood and grit of what you'd once had.

The thoughts that had littered your mind for the past two years had finally been answered, but you didn't know whether you wanted this or not.

Your heart was aching, even more so, now. It held the weight of Tommy's love for you, mixed with your own for him that you hadn't thought about in over two years. It held confusion about Michael, hurt about John, hatred for how much you had tried to forget that they'd ever been in your life;

It had taken time, but you had eventually travelled back to each other.

Your head was screaming. It was telling you that this was fake, idiotic, barbaric. It was telling you that all that Tommy had done should not be forgiven, that letting him back into your life so deeply would be the second biggest mistake you'd ever make.

This is why you'd agreed; but on the basis of friendship.

You'd wanted to make it clear that you weren't to be messed with; you'd succeeded. You could see the way Tommy tiptoed around his words now, you could see the genuine thought that he placed within every sentence. The stares, the lingering looks, the small smiles, the lift of his chin; that was all back again.

You also wanted to make it clear that this would be a slow process. Your trust wasn't something so easily attained, and Tommy had lost his share of yours those final few weeks in Birmingham—

You were not ready to give it back to him.

Then, there was Michael—

He was kind. He was smart. He felt. You cared for him, you couldn't deny it, but despite imagining his kiss, you couldn't believe you'd actually attained it.

You smacked your hands to your forehead, one thought bombarding your skull—

Do you still love him? Do you still love him?

"I don't know," You said aloud. It battered you in ways you had never felt until now. You had always shrugged it off when you were asked it, not wanting to actually dwell on whether you still loved the Blinder.

You still couldn't work it out, two sides of you in a conflict that not even yourself could fully comprehend.

You found yourself needing to get away; to run, just for a while. You dressed quickly, running a brush through your hair haphazardly and grabbing the necessities—

Cigarettes, keys;

Your father's revolver.

You left the Red Rose without telling anyone you were going. You left, one person on your mind the entire time, up until you knocked on the door and he opened it gently.

"Y/N?" Michael spoke softly as you stood on the doorstep to the Blinder's London house.

In one motion, your lips were pressed against his, breathing him in, arms snaking their way around his shoulders until you felt his own around your waist.

Michael kicked the door shut without another breath.

-

"What're you thinking about?" Michael whispered. You both laid in his bed, your head pressed against his shoulder, your skin bare. You swirled your fingertips across his chest, your breathing in sync.