Peaky Blinders Imagines

[Alfie Solomons] - Liberosis

Liberosis: noun; [Lib-uh-ro-sis] the desire to care less about things.

Your life wasn't where you expected, that much was certain. When you were younger, you had dreams of a particular life, living somewhere with the one you loved; perhaps somewhere quiet, somewhere peaceful. The countryside, for example. A simple life with a family, that was all you wanted. However, such a life as that was not what you had come to lead.

London was rife with people, not all good but certainly not all bad. It was just like any other town of its time. Businesses were on the up after the war, and squalor did seem to die down slightly over the years after. Camden Town was your home, it always had been, and your father had made sure that you would be okay whilst the war raged on. Sadly, he hadn't made it back, leaving you on your own in the big, wide world.

Two years you managed, taking up jobs here and there to make ends meet, rarely having any time for yourself. That was until you had met Alfie.

One day, by chance, you had wandered into the bakery to enquire about their breads for an elderly neighbour. Stopped just at the door by a young boy, Ollie as you now knew, and he told you they weren't baking.

"I'm sorry," you had started, seeing the boy's irritation grow. A deep voice came from behind him, and a man with a white shirt and a slight limp made his way to you. "I'll go, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Nah, mate, s'alright, leave it yeah. Go on." He placed a hand on Ollie's shoulder, attentions turning back to you once the boy disappeared out the back.

"You, come on in. Don't be shy. We bake all sorts here, the white breads, the brown breads, everything."

From there, it was history. Alfie had given you two loaves they had out front, one white and one brown, and told you that any time you may need anything, your neighbour included, you were to come to them. For whatever reason, Alfie felt himself wanting to see you again, and hoped you would come. And you did. Eventually, you started coming round not for bread, but for conversation. Slowly, but surely, it turned into a relationship, and a fulfilling one at that.

Alfie Solomons was hot-headed, quick-tempered, angry and cynical. It wasn't often one could label him as compassionate, it may well have been at the bottom of the vocabulary for someone describing the gang leader. That was everyone else's Alfie. Your Alfie was different. Behind closed doors, he was kind, caring, and respectful, the complete antithesis of what he was on the street.

Life with Alfie was wonderful, far from what one may expect when in the company of a gangster. He treated you with so much love, to a degree you had never thought possible. You loved him, you knew that, though you hadn't told him yet; Alfie didn't seem one for soppy emotions, but you knew you'd tell him some time. Because you loved him, you worried. His work was dangerous, and while he could very much defend himself with the best of them, there was still so much risk. If you lost him, you wouldn't know what to do.

These feelings seemed to come around often as of late, as more and more Alfie would return later each evening. You knew why, you knew business was business, and to your best attempt you ignored it. But there were feelings you couldn't shake. Worries that persisted.

You were sound asleep, Cyril by the side of you in bed; Alfie never let him sleep on the covers with the two of you, though sometimes you would sneak him up. The door opened and shut with just enough reverb that it woke you. Shuffling of heavy boots let you know that Alfie was home. Rising, you made your way to the living room.

"Hello," your voice was soft in the air, and Alfie turned to see you standing in the doorway after kicking his coat and shoes off.

"Ello, what you still doin' up, you? S'gone midnight."

You didn't answer as you watched him walk into the light of the moon by the window. His face was adorned with bright red marks and his left eye was darkened. Instantly, you gasped, loud enough that he heard.

"Alfie-"

"Look," he cut you off, not something he did often. "I know what you're gonna say. But, 's been fuckin' worse, right? This is nothing."

You scoffed, walking over to him, in shock more than anything.

"Nothing, Alfie? Nothing? Do you know how difficult it is to let you go every morning without knowing if I've spent my last night with you? How long the hours feel when I wait for you to come back?"

He didn't speak at first, instead looking at you in the dim glow, eyes brimming with tears. But you weren't angry, you couldn't be. This was his life, this was the way things were. He told you that before you had first got together, giving you the chance to walk away. Still, you stayed. You were sad, more than anything, sad that he thought of his own safety so little. Alfie took a breath in, about to speak, when you spoke again.

"So don't say this," you motioned to his face with your hand. "Is nothing."

Alfie sighed, caught your hand and pulled you closer to him. His hand came to rest on your cheek, thumb grazing your skin with a delicate touch. You couldn't look him in the eye, but you placed your hand over his own.

"Y/N, you know I didn't mean it like that, yeah. S'not that it don't matter, s'just that.. that- fuck, I don't know. It comes with what I do, right, I can't avoid it. I told you this and I gave you the chance to get out."

His matter-of-fact tone caught you off guard, and you finally looked up at him. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze was fixed out of the window on the night outside. Rain had begun to hit the pane of glass lightly. Despite your brewing annoyance at his attitude, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to linger a while longer; he looked beautiful. The moment, silent and calm, reminded you of why you had stayed. Why you hadn't left him.

"I would do no such thing, Alfie."

Admittedly, it was true. Whilst sometimes, the stress of his life got to you both in measure, it never overrode the feelings you had for him. Alfie was worth the stress to you, he was worth the world. Never would he see it himself, and often times he had questioned just why you stuck with him, your best efforts to convince him he was worthy of so much going over his head. You wished you could care less, you really did. You wished that it didn't bother you when he arrived at the door battered and bruised. But it did, quite a lot.

Deciding the moment had extended its welcome, you took his face in your hands and turned him to face you. Without a word, Alfie sighed and placed a kiss on your forehead, arms coming to rest around your waist upon sensing no ensuing anger from you. Taking a small moment, you curled into his chest and he relaxed ever so much, chin resting atop your head. Had you not have made the decision to take his hands in yours, you may well have stayed there forever.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Again."

Your added sarcastic tone and raised brow on the last word had made Alfie chuckle, allowing you to lead him to a seat and be helped. It only solidified his feelings for you in his mind, that his heart had chosen the right one. You were always there, regardless of the state he came home in, and you never so much as rolled your eyes.

Alfie had sworn off love a long time ago, things like that didn't fly in his line of work. Alas, here you were, and seemingly to stay, and the gangster was all too grateful that you had stumbled his way.