Peaky Blinders Imagines

Stay Alive

Warnings//ANGST, major ANGST, NO happy ending, read at your own risk

Requested//Kind of? Yeah.

Things to know// This is part two to Burn, Tommy's son is nineteen years old in this fic. This means it's been nineteen years since you've seen Tommy since what he's done, this fic also transitions from different points of view and is a bit different in the format as opposed to Burn. OH! And keep in mind that they're not supposed to be singing this, so pay attention younglings!

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Stay Alive...

All he remembers is the pain from the gunshot that made contact with his hip. This is what he gets, he thought. He wanted to be just like his father. Despite his mother's warnings and pleas. He still wanted to be a gangster.

Stay Alive...

He knew once his mother found out, she'd lose her mind. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He knew it was close to stopping. He wanted to live. Tears stung his eyes as he cried. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to apologize to his mother. He wanted to curse out his father. "Where's my son!" He could hear his father's voice out in the hallway. Of course, he was the first one to hear the news that his son got shot. "Mr. Shelby, come in. They brought him in a half-hour ago. He lost a lot of blood on the way over."

Stay Alive...

"Is he alive?" That was the first time he heard his father's voice crack with emotion. "Yes. But you have to understand, the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm." The doctor explained, a grim look on his face. Tommy felt his heart drop. "Can I see him, please?" With a nod, the doctor continued to spew out bad news. "I'm doing everything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived—" Tommy pushed his way through the doctor, bursting into the room his son was lying in. "Philip..." He breathed, walking up to his son.

It had been so long since he'd seen him. "Pa.." "I did exactly as you said Pa, I held my head up high..." Tommy gently grasped his son's hand. "I know, I know shh. I know, I know," "High..." "shh.." He shushed gently. He knew his son was trying to be like him. He knew his son was out and about, wreaking havoc on the streets of Birmingham. For a moment, he wondered if you knew. "I know, you did everything just right, shhh." "Even before we got to ten--" "I know, I know..." "I was aimin' for the sky..." "I know, I know..." "I was aimin' for the sky..." He was in so much pain. The infection that was slowly killing him was also causing him so much pain. "I know...save your strength and stay alive..." Tommy wasn't looking forwards to dealing with you once you had gotten there. He knew you would be absolutely broken after you found out.

Stay Alive...

The door once again burst open, and in came you, tears already clouding your vision. "NO!" You rushed forwards, shoving Tommy out of the way and cupping your little boy's face in your hands. "Y/n..." "Is he breathing is going to survive this!?" You were already in hysterics. Stay Alive..."Who did this? Thomas did you know!" You angrily looked up towards your ex-husband. Of course, he knew. There was no way he didn't. Philip pushed himself up, wincing as he did. "Mom...I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me." "My son..." Your hands were gentle as they raked through his hair. Your smile was wobbly as you took in your son's paleness and tired eyes. He was dying.

"We played piano." "I taught you piano." "You would put your hands on mine." A slight laugh managed to escape you. "You changed the melody every time..." "Ha. I would always change the line." Philip managed to laugh out with you, tears falling down his face. He didn't want to die. It was your turn to calm your son. "Shh. I know, I know." "I would always change the line." "I know, I know." "Un deux trois quatre," "Un deux trois quatre," "Cinq six sept huit neuf," "Cinq six sept huit neuf..." "Good. Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept," You could tell he was getting weaker, his words were starting to slur together and his eyes fluttered. "Un deux trois..." That was the last you heard your son's voice. His head dropped onto the bed beneath him, eyes now closed. "Huit neuf...Sept huit neuf—Sept huit..." When you realized that your baby boy was dead, the blood-curdling scream that left you, caused many hearts to break.