envy | tommy shelby imagines

[5.3] sweet symphonies from scorn sets of lips

"Each joy feels like a threat:
Although there's beauty everywhere,
Its shadow is regret."
- kate tempest // the point

YOUR POV

THE world awoke to the sound of birds, and breeze; the breeze that caused every hair on my back to stand on end, perfectly vertical.
My eyes remained closed so I could capture its beauty like a firefly in a mason jar, inhaling the stale smoke and dust that I called home, the smell of worn pine that lay as the floorboards, and I smile, as the world feels warmer this morning, and it doesn't stop getting warmer, filling me with heat like a kettle.

The sounds of the birds are drowned out by the melody of My Tommy's breathing, and the feeling of the covers enclosing my body in heat is replaced by the waves of them too. All the sounds parted their sea so I could drown in all of him, even if it's just for today, even if it's only while he slept.
The arm that draped on my stomach like heavy curtains parts from me, replacing the warmth with the undying cold, only for a moment, as I feel his rough thumb graze my cheekbone, and I can't keep the smile from rising to my face like the blush following in suit to my cheeks.

I am inescapably trapped in him, he has me locked in the safe behind his soul, and I gave away the key, as I never want to leave, as all I want is to hear that scoffed laugh leave his slightly chapped but ever-so full lips every day, I want it to play like that broken record we danced to many evenings when we forgot there was music as we danced to the symphony of us.

"Mornin' sweetheart" his rasp plagues my ears, making the silence shudder under its presence.
I hum, hum through the smile I know will not leave me, as I open my eyes to meet the face I never thought I'd see so raw, with every hue of blue slow dancing in his iris', cheeks slightly pink from warmth, a warmth Thomas Shelby has never had, and a smile that could've ended the war if he used it, and could've sent him home to me as fast as his lips parted.
My smile makes my eyes close, only missing his beauty for a second, as any longer would be too much punishment.

"Good Morning Tommy" the words fall flat, unable to carry the weight of emotion I have for him, but the hand placed on his chest tries to convey it, as I trace every detail on his chest, making a mental map of him, as if I'm ready to awake once again to find him gone.
"You sleep well? Sorry about the lumpy mattress"  my eyes never leaving his, afraid they'll disappear if they do.

"Y/N, I don't give a fuck about the mattress, I slept great, yeah, better than I have for a long time" he smiles again and my god, I swear I heard the Lord applaud his greatest creation.

"Good; so did I, it's warm and.. I like warm" the laugh couldn't help but roll out of my mouth like a pebble down an alley, as his followed in tandem.

"So about last night.." his eyes casted downward to my bicep, where his hand moved to trace every bump and every hair there, making them stand attentive once again at the hands of their soldier, my eyes still not leaving his immaculately carved face, as I nod in acknowledgement, afraid of his morning revelation.

"Don't tell the boys, yeah? Don't want them to get the wrong idea" his scoff then started to hurt, like needles to my ears, eyes turning a shade darker, trying to mask the pain of his heavy words.

"And what might be the wrong idea, Tommy?" My eyebrows frowned, trying to meet each other in the middle but falling short a couple centimetres, my head slightly upturned, wanting him to see my face in all that it is; vulnerable, waiting, wanting.
He now looks from my arm, to my expectant eyes, and merely says:

"That I've bloody gone soft" his wink batted away the insecurity he temporarily built inside me, and my smile banished the frown away, now laughing as I'm in on the joke, laughing with him and realising I'm the only one he wants to laugh with, and vice versa.

"That will be the day, Tommy, that will be the day" we laugh together, wrapped up between each other's legs and limbs, hair clumsily falling on our faces like rain on windows, hands trying to keep the dream at bay, to keep it a reality so it doesn't fall through gentle fingertips, and as the laughter stops, and the silence is welcomed back, we merely stare at each other once more, wishing we could capture this moment just like those damn fireflies; but in seconds, it's as if someone set them all free, as our lips waltzed together in a harmony Beethoven would sob over, and the fireworks began once more.

Tommy and I have been in love since our ripened youth, and we are not ones to solidify a cliché,

But me and my Tommy will change the world with the exposure of dimples and teeth as we smile the evil away, and make it disintegrated through the hands we hold.
We are the good, merely outliving the evil, together.