In Small Heath | Peaky Blinders [ on hold ]

twenty-seven; theres nothing worse than bad betrayal

Betrayal.

It came in many different forms when it came to the Shelby Family. Grassing someone up to the police was up there with some of the worst, but in Tommys eyes - sleeping with the enemy was worthy of a death sentence.

Which was why Ada hadn't done what her aunt Pol had said, she didn't want Tommy to know - because despite Freddie Thorne being one of his best friends from school, he'd picked a side Tommy didn't like.

Instead, she went to the one brother who didn't dare judge. He had a shaky record with past relationships, not to mention being abandoned by a wife in name and on paper only.

Sebastian wasn't one to cast glares in the direction of someone he didn't like - aside from Grace, he was a proactive man when it suited him. He cared about those he talked to and he enjoyed lending an ear, but what he couldn't always wrap his head around - was the idea of betrayal, in the same way that Tommy could.

But, betrayal meant something different for each person who dealt with it.

"Sebastian..." Ada's voice called out from the doorway, she leant against the post with a plate of toast with a pot of jam balanced between the ridge of the plate and her thumb.

"Ada..." he mimicked her, beckoning her to come closer with a brief wave of his hand.

The book that had been resting against his face was loudly put back onto his desk, and with ease, he turned his swivel chair in the direction of the door.

"If you've got something to say, you might as well come out with it." Sebastian was always the one to skip around the frilly nature of polite chitchat, though he did enjoy partaking in a little bit of idle chatter, sometimes it was easier to rip off the bandage.

Easier for everyone.

"You have to promise me, Bash, that you won't tell a soul. Not even your horse."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mere idea of him telling his horses anything. He hadn't done that in what felt like a lifetime (in reality, seven years had passed since he last confided in his horse), so her worry was in vain.

Making a cross, from head to stomach, shoulder to shoulder, he made a silent promise that he wouldn't tell a soul. Not in a confessional booth, to a passer-by or a hungry horse.

"I need you to say it, please, just say it."
"Fine, I promise I won't tell anyone anything."

Sometimes, Ada could be such hard work, it was like trying to talk to a child sometimes with her. Though, he didn't mind. Sure, it was annoying sometimes, and felt like pulling teeth, but he wouldn't change it if given the chance.

"Get up, and put your shoes on."

Bossy, too. Ada was bossy, far bossier now than when they were children. It was as though she was catching up for lost time, but Sebastian didn't falter in his movements. Both feet were planted firmly onto the floor, already in his fancier brogues.

He needed to wear them in, he couldn't have blisters when dancing around an empty kitchen with Aunt Pol.

He wasn't an Oxford man, despite how much he wanted to be. He enjoyed feeling the grooves on the toe, the frills on lace band, the smooth velvet of the tongue. As his fingers were his eyes, it was just the way he distinguished his shoes from his brothers.

Ada didn't even give him a moment to gain a semblance of balance before her hand was around his wrist, and his shoulder was very nearly out of its socket. She took each step carefully as she helped him traverse the toy laden stairs, though he was used to taking two at a time, he allowed her to feel like she was being useful.