Romeo James was friends with the Shelby brothers ever since they where little. But then the war came and Romeo was branded a deserter. How will the Shelby's react when he returns to Small Heath? Will they trust him?
(Romeo's P.O.V.) The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls of the kitchen, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Polly sat on a chair beside mine. Her eyes are fixed on my wound that ran across my side. The wound was jagged and deep, the skin torn from the knife that had cutt me after Campbell's lovely interogation. Her eyes lift up to meet my gaze as she grabs a bottle of whiskey from the table "you ready?". I nodded, letting out a forced breath "Just.. get it over with". I flinch at the sting of the alchol being poured against my wound. My fingers gripping the stool tightly, making my knuckles go white, as I suppress a groan. Polly placed the alcohol down and began focussing on small the small first-aid kit, rummaging through the supplies. Bandages, gauze, and a needle. It wasn't much, but it had to be enough. I hiss as I lean forward to retrive the bottle. I was not going to be sober for this. I lift the tip to my lips and tale a long drink of the Whiskey. The burning sensation was familiar and eith ease it went down. I lower the bottle and met Polly's gaze once more. She patiently waited for me, holding the needle in beyween her fingers. It's sharl glint catching the light of the candle. Without uttering ankther word, she leaned forward, position the needle at the edge of the gash. With a steady hand, Polly inserted the needle through the skin. I gasped, his knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of the table tighter. Polly stayed focussed, ignoring my slight flinches, pulling the thread through and creating the first stitch. "Just breathe, Romeo. In and out" she instructed, counting quietly under her breath as she worked. "Ugh... easy for you... to say" I muttered, forcing out a laugh through the pain. Each stitch felt like a small victory, yet the tension in the room was palpable. Sweat began to form on my forehead as I tried to remain as still ss possible. "It's almost done" she assured me, trying to keep her voice calm. She threaded the needle again. I felt the strain in her own hands as she continued. "Just a few more, I promise". I tried to distract myself, my eyes darting around the room. Untill my eyes landed on an old photo. My heart stopped upon seeing that photo, which pictured Polly, Tommy's mother and.... mine. I don't know if it was the pain of getting stitches or seeing visions of my late mother in my head and hearing her sweet laugh. Polly must have noticed my sudden stillness but didn't say anything. "You know..." I coax out with a stutter, as I keep my eyes fixed on the photo, "sometimes I still cry out for her... like a little child afraid of the dark". A shakey breath leaves my throat as I continued. "And occasionally she replies". My little Romeo. I blink as I hear her voice, trying to shake it away from my thoughts. Her voice had plagued my mind ever since my plane had crashed to the ground and I was found by my fellow brothers in arms, barely alive. Polly gave me a look, as if she knew that my near death expierence had triggered my Gypsy blood, that I was now hearing the dead. Her eyes glance over my body, fixating on the burn wounds. The marks that twist and curl across my upper right arms, neck and down my chest and torso, remnants of a fire that changed my life. When the plane came crashing down to the ground in a burst of fire. The scars are a mix of angry reds and soft pinks, contrasting sharply against the otherwise fair complexion of my skin. Since I was burned, I often wore long sleeves and high collars, not out of shame but to shield the scars from the world and to reclaim a sense of control. She sighs and wants to say something, but before she even could, the door opens and in walk all 3 brotherd. Tommy at the front, wearing a very pissed of expression, immediatly turning his attention to Polly. Before conversing in Romani regarding me being here. It was clear from Tom's tone he didn't want me here. While Polly argued back she was caring for my wounds. "He's a traitor!" Tommy cursed in Romani, I looked up at him and replied back in Romani "Everyone has their own perspective. If standing by my beliefs makes me a traitor in your eyes, then so be it". Tommy stops and turns his head to me. Giving me his full attention.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My eyes watched along as he stalks very slowly forward, keeping fixed eyecontact with me. Both of us challenging the other. I was one of the few non-family members who was not afraid of the Thomad Shelby. He halts in front of me, trying to over-power me by standing while I remain seated. But it has no to little effect on me. "You're a traitor, Romeo" he speaks again in Romani, "and I'll deal with you like I would any traitor". Before I can even make a witty reply, Tom grabs me by my shirt and dragged me along with him. We fought against one another, nearly stumbling out the Shelby home as we wrestle. I try to break free but am unable to do so, due to still being injured. Tommy spins me around, keeping my back pressed against his chest. Before loudly exclaiming for all to hear who I am, specifically getting the attention of coppers on his payroll "Officers! Officers! I have Romeo James, the one who is wanted by the crown for treason!". Upon seeing the officers make their way over to us, I struggle even harsher to break free from his grip. Not even giving up when my freshly set stitches break. But it was no use, because when Tommy let me go, I felt the hardness of their bat land against the bag off my head. Making the world around me completely dark.
