Rising | Thomas Shelby

my tommy

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I look up to see the same eyes, so piercing that have been seared into my mind for all these years. Every time I close my eyes, that's what I can see. However, now they are so solid, not like the ones I once knew. I quickly stood to my feet, wiping under my eyes hoping I didn't look like hell as I stepped towards him. He was shocked I could tell, I was the last person he expected to see when he walked through that door.

The others sort of looked away and awkwardly scrambled out of the room, the intense staring making everyone else uncomfortable. I slightly smiled at their reactions as did he. Just staring at each other we slowly made our way towards one another. Until our toes were touching. He had noticed she hadn't grown which made him smile. Her 5'1 frame still amusing to him.

He raised his hands to either side of my head and stroked down my hair before bringing me in for a close embrace. Keeping my head tucked up into his chest so I could hear his racing heart. The shock of seeing me must still be going effecting him. He took in the smell of my hair, how was it possible for her to smell the same. Like home. So comforting to him, a smell he had longed for. He went round to your house after getting back and went into your room and took the little bottle of perfume from your dressing table. Not that he would let you know that.

We stayed like that for minutes. Just taking in each other and I thought back to the nights I sat and cried over him, yearning for him. Just wanted to reach out to him, so he could secretly come and see me whilst I carried on with what I needed to do. Tears started building again, I think they were happy tears just from pure joy of being back in his arms.

After a while I stepped back. Relishing in his good looks, his sharp cheek bones more prominent than ever. I wonder if he eats well enough. I traced his strong masculine jaw with my finger and he automatically clenched his teeth. I smiled at the reaction. I looked back up at his eyes and he was just staring at me and I could see his eyes were slightly red, like he was fighting the urge to cry. I cradled his face in my hands and his chin wobbled.

He couldn't believe it, his little Lett was alive and in front of him. His hands were on her waist and it wasn't a dream. Night after night he had dreamt of her and then he woke up realising she wasn't really there and having to grieve her all over again. He just hoped he wouldn't wake up from this one.

I took off his cap, wanting to see his hair. Hair I had grown up stroking through, so he could sleep or just in general. Smiling back to when he used to always say 'if you love me, you would stroke my hair' but secretly I loved doing it. Seeing him be so vulnerable and soft with me made me feel always special. That was his way of showing that he trusted you and he cared for you.

I stroked through it and he closed his eyes at the feeling, no one did it like you did. No one was as soft and comforting as you were. He made girls do it all the time after sex but none of them did it with as much care as you did. The feeling you gave him was indescribable and that was just you stroking his hair. That's the kind of power you have over him, how much he needs you in his life.

He grieved you, in private though. When Pol told him, he didn't think he could get any more broken than he was, didn't think anything could hurt more than the war. You were the tipping point for him after that no one could reach him, he was too far gone. He went to your grave most nights. In the stupid hours, when he would try to sleep but the shovels kept him up. He would sit by the headstone, imagining you there sat with him. Laughing hard at your own jokes when you mocked him or complaining about being hungry or that your feet hurt so he would have to carry you home, things that used to annoy him, then he craved them.

He forced his eyes open, you were actually here and he couldn't waste another minute not looking at you. He was never going to let you go again. You were looking at each other, we said so much without muttering a word.

The other family members was waiting for something to happen. They were pressed up, with their ears against the door trying to hear anything. For someone to actually speak, a sob, a glass hit the table, shoes meeting the floor. Literally anything. Pure silence.

After a while, I let out a sigh. Pushing myself on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry" I whispered close to his ear so quietly you weren't sure if you had actually said anything.
"Don't be" he whispered back, returning the kiss on my cheek.
It was perfect being back with my Tommy.