Now You See Me | Thomas Shelby

nine; first time? no problem.

Tommy had done his absolute best to avoid the whole existence of Polly-Anna, who - he had only just decided, was worth the extra effort in pronouncing both halves of her name, which had been far harder than he had expected over the last three weeks.

Everywhere he turned, there she was. Blonde hair plopped haphazardly atop her head, blue eyes casting curious glances around her.

He should've expected that her life wouldn't stop now that his presence was no longer in the forefront of it - he'd hoped that was the case, but a foolish man hoped for things that would never come to fruition.

"Thomas, darling," Aunt Polly started, leaning against the bannister to the stairs of their house, eyes burning holes straight through him. "Walk me to Artillery Square?"

There it was.

The blow to the heart.

He hadn't gone to Artillery Square in almost two months. After he had kissed her, and then decided to spend the rest of his days wondering what would've happened if he hadn't - he hadn't much time to traipse across Small Heath.

He'd, of course, contemplated it. On his way home from schooling, after his last exam, it was probably the one thing that would've made him happiest, but the one thing Thomas was, above all else, was a gentleman.

He was afraid of the outcome, too, so above gentleman - just barely - was a terrified fifteen year old, hoping to everything holy, he hadn't just ruined a perfect friendship for himself and his younger brother John.

"I don't have much of an option, do I?"

A shake of her head was enough of an answer for him, and so - in a calculated manner, he grabbed his thicker coat from the hook and headed towards the door.

"Come on, Pol, rather rip the plaster off now than wait for it to cement further onto my skin." Thomas added, an air of pleading laced through each word.

Polly couldn't help but stifle a laugh behind a guarded hand, shaking her head at her nephews foolish antics. She had been in his shoes once upon a time, with Harold Grey, but she had also been four years Tommys senior by that point.

Young love stains the very streets they all walk along.

"Don't rush me, boy, remember. The world waits for the likes of us, we don't wait for the world."

Polly was always coming out with things that didn't truly make much sense, after all, Thomas had just learned that the world spins on an axis at a precise speed, to ensure nothing inside becomes an impossibility.

As Thomas stepped out, he offered Polly his arm and she gracefully accepted. In one fluid motion, she linked her arm within his and set off - without giving him so much as a warning.

The speed was pleasant, it wasn't too fast, nor too slow so it felt like Thomas was dawdling, it was just right.

For a moment, as the duo walked in silence, his mind was cast back to the first time he'd ever met Polly-Anna. The way she stood, with her hand against her hip - worry lines etched into her face, the way it softened when Amber-Jack came into view. It was at that very moment that Thomas had decided he liked her and wanted to know more about her, even though getting information out of her about herself, was like making a rock bleed red paint.

"Thomas," Polly started, placing a hand on top of his arm, on the section where their arms crossed, "tell me what's on your mind."

Polly was good at that, knowing when something was troubling her nephews; but it seemed to be worse with Thomas. It was as though his worries were etched into his face like a piece of art created by the very best.