𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍﹙t. shelby﹚

↳ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦, 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟎

             𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐁𝐘 the fourteen-year old Evelyn attempted to keep the fabric of the new dress out of the muddy puddles. The sun has disappeared to rest behind the horizon for merely a couple of hours and the moon cascaded a dim white light across Small Heath. Underneath the shine, the town seemed harmless for a split second but it would be a disgusting lie to assume such facts.

Heeled shoes in one hand, the thin fabric of the knee-high socks has turned into a layer of damp nothingness. Turning another corner, John Shelby, who was roughly a year older than Evelyn disappeared through the door of the gambling den. As a foreign, the entrance to the club wasn't accepted without the allowance of certain people, but Evelyn was quick on the feet. Door pushed open with one, the cheerful and loud laughter of the child boomed through the crowds of people. An innocent sound caught the attention of a handful of males who filled out the betting slip for the next horse race. Another attempt at winning enough money to never find the way back into one of the old fabric's again.

Wiggling the way through the occupied people, Evelyn snuck through the guards and almost towards the one room, which was mostly kept closed. "Evelyn, why aren't your shoes on your feet? You'll get a cold, my dear."

The strong voice of a female caught the child off guard, causing Evelyn to flinch back from the forbidden door and letting the shoes fall off the small fingers. Caught in the act of planning a little mischief, the angel on the shoulder disappeared when trouble occurred. "John stole my last ham sandwich, the one you made me and the jerk ran off while eating. I wanted to catch him but he's being mean to me again because he's a head taller."

Half of a cigarette was put out in the ashtray on the wooden table, and Polly marched towards the child with the sad glimpse in the brown orbs. Since Evelyn's mother found a kind of relief in the booze of alcohol, Margaret disappeared to the Garrison in early hours for the past years. It was the very moment of the night when the brunette twelve year old was almost abducted by a pair of creepy-looking man, that the reckless Shelby boys stepped in and brought her to their aunt. Underneath this roof, Polly has raised five of them, and with Evelyn six, which gave her memories of a lovely childhood and the rank of a Shelby without being married to one.

The door to the gambling den opened, and was slammed shut quickly afterwards as Polly wrapped her arms around the child. "We will make you another one, I promise."

"Okay," Evelyn agreed, feeling how the wrinkled hand of the female Shelby slowly caressed over the smooth strands of brown hair. Fourteen wasn't the age to mess around the gambling den when customers were present, and still Polly would exchange the exhausting days for raising another child. Margaret didn't question the whereabouts of the daughter, she almost drank away the memories of even having one while stumbling to the little house that she owned.

"Eve." Spoken by the rough voice of the male, the name still sounded like a melody sung by the birds on a summer day morning. A lullaby that ended the long exhausting hours of work, and gave a slight relief to the pounding heart. The head of the brunette snapped around almost immediately, facing the much taller Shelby with the significant flat cap and the burning blue eyes. "You're growing quick. Once you're old enough, you will hopefully secure yourself a job with us."

Thomas Shelby, the nightmare with the appearance of a daydream. A man, gushed about by the women of Small Heath, and the leader of the criminal business of the gambling den. Twenty years of age, the healed wounds of disparate fights on the sharp features of the face, made him look older than he should. "Yes, Mister Shelby. It's my greatest desire to give you lot a little bit back for taking me in and caring about me."

"I've told you many times to call me Tommy, darling." A deep chuckle, one infiltrated by amusement, rolled off the tongue as Evelyn almost thanked the Shelby's for the hundredth time. The way, she spoke the words with a layer of honey around them, gave the gambling den another way to lure the males and females to fill out a betting slip. "You don't need to thank us, Eve. You're the perfect addition to the Shelby Clan."

The heart swelled with pride, an increased pace of beating caused the bones of the ribcage to slightly ache. But this one time, for the first time, the pain wasn't meant to feel bad, it was a feeling of happiness to be inducted into the Shelby Clan. "Once I've done the nightly courses and the educational part, you'll find me here."

Thomas nodded in agreement to the spoken words, a half-smile on the plump lips as he pushed the cigarette between them. Another stick filled with poisonous tobacco that didn't do well for his health but it didn't matter to him. The entirety of his job was a dangerous part, and would properly be the end of his times, one day.

And between the chaotic life, and the severely damaging events of the past, Thomas Shelby was the precise description of the man that Evelyn desires for a great future. It wasn't the money in his pockets, or the dangerous glimpse in the blank stare of the pale blue eyes, it was the way he knew which words to use to cheer her up. A smile of his lifted the corners of Evelyn's mouth possibly faster than time could be measured, and the hasty motions around them froze.

"Tommy!" Arthur's strong voice interrupted the stare-down between the blue-eyed and the brown doe eyes. Head repeatedly moved from left to right, Evelyn attempted to snap out of the imaginary world, she created inside of the head for Thomas and herself. Clearing his throat, the black-haired enlightened the cigarette and took a long drag, the stern gaze lingered on the brunette with the cheeks resembling red apples.

"He's too old, Evelyn. Don't bring yourself to admiring him, and find out it was useless all along." Aunt Polly was known for speaking the truth, it didn't matter how hurtful the words could be. A single eyebrow arched at the assumption, Evelyn pressed the lips into a thin line and tilted the head in the direction of the older woman. Over the past decades, Polly has witnessed how the women fell head over heels in love with the second oldest Shelby, but breaking through the thick shell that he created around him, in protection of the family's enemies, ended in the suffering of the females.

Evelyn was rightly informed that Polly's words weren't just simple warnings, it happened to be the painful truth. It didn't matter how much she hated the syllabeles, she had to admit that the Aunt of Shelby's only attempted to save the young teenager from a very dramatic heartbreak.

And that's when the saddened gaze anchored on the back of the black-haired male. One hand deeply in the pocket of the loose dress pants, and the other holding the cigarette to the mouth. Leaned over Arthur's shoulder, the eyes squinted slightly to admire the numbers in the books and the great win they've made from the last couple races.

A man like Thomas Shelby was a once in a lifetime and she would wait until it was her turn, Evelyn wasn't the one person to give up. She would go down the path as planned and return to Small Heath as a grown woman.