𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒
❝ They're the French Kissers,
that's what they do.
They will lure you in
and then they'll kill you
with a kiss. ❞
━ in which the leader of the french kissers
...
❝ The exquisite pain of wanting someone you can never have ❞
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Teacups stood between them on the kitchen table, the earl grey tea left untouched as the tart, citric scent of bergamot clung to them like faded memories of old, long gone summers. Rose tried gathering the thoughts inside her head, but with Thomas so close, with him running the cigarette across his lips and staring at her like she was the first flower to bloom after the coldest winter, it was pointless.
Thomas Shelby didn't just claim racetracks, streets, or cities for himself, he claimed minds and hearts too. He claimed every thought and every heartbeat until the mind stopped thinking and the heart stopped beating.
Rose had fought against it, but she still fell victim to it. Only instead of stopping, her heart started beating again.
"I knew this would happen, sooner or later. That the Saurets would come back to knock on my door." She took the cup in her hands, staring at the dark orange hues of the tea as if she could see her past in it. Maybe if she stared hard enough, she could change it. Or erase it. "A gang neither forgives nor forgets. Especially if they're bound by blood. You know."
Thomas nodded. "I know. And Steaphan was the gang leader?"
"Yeah." She looked up from the cup to two silver moons with no dark side to them. Their gazes sank into each other the same way the sun sinks into the ocean at the end of every sunset, perpetually and inevitably and in such a way that brought night upon them. And stars. "I seem to be fond of those."
"And they seem to be fond of you." Under his tweed suit, light curves settled on his shoulders. His thumb raced after the shape of his lips. "You know I don't see Grace when I look at you. But I have no fookin' clue if you see him when you look at me."
Cannons thudded in her heart as treacherous thoughts pushed her to the front line of a battle she hadn't enlisted in. Her heart and mind would always wage a war with no armistice to end it.
"I could have. Like you, he was a very elegant man. Wore charm and danger equally well. He would walk into a room and people would stop what they were doing. He wouldn't say a word and they would still bow. He was one of those people that change the atmosphere of a place simply by being in it. The only other person I saw that ability in was you. But no, I don't see him when I look at you. You're too much of yourself to remind me of anyone else."
Rose paused, finger curling around the handle of the teacup. A veil of quietness dropped between them; silence always spoke for her in a way she never could.
