WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL || tommy shelby x reader

chapter twenty

You slept like a log and woke feeling the most refreshed you'd ever felt. You embraced the afternoon sun as it cascaded in through your window, rolling out of bed and stretching hard until you felt your limbs come alive.

You felt amazing—the best you'd felt in years—

Possibly the best you'd felt since things had kicked off in Birmingham.

You washed and dressed, humming to yourself all the while. Martin popped his head around your door frame, a quizzical look all over his face.

"Are you humming?" He said, almost judgmentally.

"Hm?" You hummed in response, combing some oil through your wet hair. You simply smiled at him in the reflection of your mirror, as if you didn't have a worry in the world.

"Okay—you're being strange," He said, inviting himself into your room and crossing his arms. He planted himself on your unmade bed, crossing his legs. "Did you get a lobotomy?"

You rolled your eyes at his reflection. "Jesus. I'm just happy, alright?"

"You? Happy?" Martin said, and you scoffed suddenly, turning to face him.

"Martin!" You yelled jokily.

"What? Oh, come on, Y/N. You haven't actually smiled properly since opening night here," You regarded him, sending him a disapproving smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," You let out, chuckling to yourself as the words slipped from your mouth. You turned back to the mirror, grabbing your make up from the counter.

"Seriously, though. What's happened?"

"Why does something need to have happened? Can't I just be happy for once?" You replied.

"Uh, no. I don't think you're capable of that, Y/N," You tutted into your mirror, but Martin was smiling jokingly at your reflection. You were hesitant to tell him what had your spirits up, knowing how he felt about Tommy. He would no doubt call you crazy for still being in love with such a man, but you didn't need someone else, other than yourself, screaming at you for it.

"Well, if you must know," You said. "I've realised something about myself. Something that's been weighing me down for a long time." You dabbed your face with powder, smoothing out your skin.

Martin's jaw dropped open.

"No," He said. You stopped what you were doing, turning to face him like a child ready for a scolding. "Y/N—no—,"

"Just—hear me out—,"

"God, no. Are you insane?" Martin stood slowly, beginning to pace your room in a deep thought.

"I mean, probably, but—,"

"Thomas fucking Shelby? Really? After everything—,"

"Yes, I know, but you said it yourself before—,"

"But he—he's—him! And you—,"

"You said yourself that you could see something there—,"

"Yes, I said I saw something—not that you should have gone back to him," Martin snapped, a finality present within his voice. You stood, walking towards him and grasping his hands in your own. Martin stared up at you with big eyes.

"I haven't told him. Yet." You said.

"Y/N," Martin began, squeezing your hands. "I just don't want him to do what he did before."

"I know. Me neither, believe me," You let out a small chuckle. "He doesn't even know that I still love him, Martin. I'm still deciding whether or not to do something about it,"