by order of the peaky blinders|| Peaky Blinders Imagines

Thomas Shelby (one)

Summary: You see Thomas Shelby a year after the war.

Trigger warning(s): language, smoking, drinking, wee bit of angst 

Word count: 1,887

Your POV~

The year after World War I blew away in the smog filled breeze, though you never forgot the one man who left you that dreaded day in 1914.

Thomas Shelby.

He went in as a boy, and came out as something far worse than anyone could've possibly imagined. It was like life was nothing more than a chore to him.

The day after the war, you tried contacting him, meeting up, something to know he was alive, well, and still your Tommy.

Over the phone, you were met by a man who didn't seem to know you anymore, or, rather, love you.

"Tommy? Is it you?" Your voice spoke barely above a whisper, not trying to awake your mother and father in the next room over.

You wanted to move away, but the thought of buying a home without Thomas pained you.

All you heard was a gruff, "mmm," which you took as an agreement to your statement. Your heart fluttered at the fact that it was your Thomas, though nothing about his small gruff seemed right.

"Can... can I see you?" Anxiety laced your quiet voice as you laid yourself on the line. You loved the boy, well, man, no matter how many years it's been since you last embraced.

"That's not possible," Thomas impassively answered in his newly low register. He sounded tired, not doubt from the lack of sleep as the war replayed in his mind each night.

"Wha-?" Before you could protest against his actions, a click is heard, followed by the dial tone of your family phone. You couldn't believe it. The first time you talked to Thomas in around four years, he wants nothing to do with you.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep, mourning the loss of Thomas. He may not have died in the war, but his spirit did.

You found yourself walking into a pub named the Garrison in Small Heath. Once the war ended, you packed your bags and headed to the city where you could finally be free, London.

Now, you were back visiting family. While you loved them dearly, conversations with them always led to a series of complaints about how you live your life, to which you had not care to dwell on with them.

The click-clack of your heels rang through the corridors of Small Heath, anyone and everyone around remembering exactly who you were.

Thomas never got over you, and everyone still in Small Heath knew that.

Finally arriving at the Garrison, you craned your head slightly to take the building in for all it's worth. It seemed like a hole-in-the-wall type of establishment, but you heard they had the best prices for the best booze.

You desperately needed a drink.

Your gloved hands pushed open the heavy doors to the Garrison and allowed yourself the room to walk in and straight to the bar top. The world seemingly halted at your presence, though quickly started up to get back to their much needed drinks.

It was 6 o'clock, meaning all of the workers were finally clocked out and in need of a temporary solution to numb their problems, similarly to you.