➥ My Life

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Word Count: ~ 1,600
Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff
SUMMARY: You convince Tom to take a day off and finally connect.

A/N We're gonna pretend that Julie London made music when this fic takes place

Getting Thomas Shelby to take a break from work was like trying to get a woodchuck to chuck wood... absolutely fucking impossible. Despite your adamant attempts to get him to take– at least –a day off from work, he never listened. Always groaning and mumbling about how, "I've got work up to my ears," and, "Soon, I promise." What a shitty lie.

You knew going into the marriage that it'd be a lot of work. He's a businessman at heart and truly cannot help it, or so you tell yourself that to humor yourself. But it isn't like Tom's a completely absent husband, when he is around he makes up for his lack of being home by at least sitting in the same room as you. It was easy between you two, to just sit in silence and enjoy each other's company without speaking. Although lately, it seemed like Thomas was working himself to death.

He would return home at ungodly hours completely exhausted and wouldn't even bother with dinner. You could tell he was suffering mentally when he came home with that haircut. The sides were shaved so harshly that the tuft of dark hair on top of his head looked completely out of place. You were sure he saw the wide-eyed look you gave him when he entered your bedroom as you read before bed.

But he said nothing of it as he undressed and laid down beside you wordlessly. You've been watching him deteriorate for months... and now you're sick of it. You love Tom, that's why you married him, and you refuse to let him kill himself when he's got so much left to live for.

⎯⎯

"Alright, I'm done." You sat your teacup down with a stern look. It was the best motherly glare you could muster as Thomas hardly looked up from the papers in his hand. You clenched your fists on the table and sigh loudly, knowing if you made enough noise Tom would finally acknowledge you.

He pushed his glasses up when he finally looked at you, "With your dinner? You've got an entire plate left." The rolling of your eyes didn't go unnoticed by him as he just sat up to truly look at you. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

The dining room was painfully empty, You and Tom sat across from one another at the head of the table. The chair usually reserved for Thomas was empty, but the throne-like appearance showed a king sat there. Sure, Thomas is no monarch, but he does rule all of Birmingham as though he is one. That thought makes you realize that would make you the quiet queen who sits idly by as her husband fucks everything up.

"Nice of you to finally acknowledge me, Thomas." You try your best to soften your tone, to sound worried and not annoyed but it hurts. It hurts knowing your husband is more caught up in his work than with you. So many broken promises... so many nights alone... so many days where you just couldn't force yourself out of bed due to feeling like a complete failure.

You became what you sought not to, a man's wife. Known only as Thomas Shelby's wife is probably the worst thing you've ever been called. You grew up founding strong values about being a strong, independent woman, but the first time a man showed you any true attention and you went and married him... "What's that supposed to mean?"

Your Y/E/C eyes cast down to the dark wood of the table solemnly, "We haven't had a proper conversation in weeks," You fiddled with the handle of your teacup absentmindedly, "I miss you, Tommy." You extended your hand across the table, palm up for Thomas to grab. He set the papers in his hands aside and placed a hand above yours.

The realization in Tom's eyes was obvious as his head inclined toward the table almost as though he were ashamed. "I know... and I'm sorry, love. It's just that things are crazy this time of year... along with the flowers blooming comes lots of political turmoil about this and that... it's a lot." You nodded, wanting to understand but the mention of flowers blooming reminds you of one of the many broken promises.

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