Peaky Blinders One Shot Collection

John Shelby x Reader 7. 'I'm sorry i wasnt there for you when you needed me'

Grief had encased you for days now. You rarely left the confines of your room and when you did, it was for mere minutes to use the bathroom or get water. You would quickly return to your room, locking the door behind you so as not to be disturbed.

Polly had tried to get you to go to the shops with her, but you had politely declined. She had pushed you until you snapped and told her to leave you alone and stop interfering. She hadn’t tried to coax you out since. That was 2 days ago.

Your father had been close to the Shelby’s, a type of uncle to the brothers, and a brother figure to Polly. That, in turn, had meant that you grew up quite close to the troublesome family. You were the same age as Tommy, but had always been closer to John. Cleaning him up after fights in the school yard and covering for him when he was playing truant. This had blossomed into a beautiful friendship when you had both left school to join the real world. Until he had been called to fight.

You had stayed in touch, writing letters to keep each other up to date and he had kept an eye out for your father while they were away. But when the men had returned, John had been different. He distanced himself from you, keeping conversation short and quick. He had avoided you at all costs and you had slowly come to accept that the man who had returned from France was not the same man that you had hugged goodbye at the train station when he went. It hurt but you had been so busy helping Polly run shop, minding Finn and doing your own work that you hadn’t had a chance to upset yourself too much.

Your father knew how much it had hurt you to lose John and many occasions you had found the pair arguing before John had seen you and left the room. Your father had told you to pay him no mind, told you he was a stupid little boy and not worth you upsetting yourself over. Who would have known that a month later you would kiss your father on the cheek for the last time before leaving for work, only to come home to the news that he had died after suffering a heart attack.

The funeral was tomorrow. Polly had brought in your dress this morning, hanging it on the door of your wardrobe, gave you a sympathetic smile and left. You sat up on the edge of your bed and stared at the black material. Absently, a tear rolled down your cheek and you swiped at it. With a sigh, you stood from the bed, deciding to make a cup of tea – your first proper drink in days.

The kitchen had fallen quiet the moment you had entered it. All of the Shelby family had seemed to take over your house, taking responsibility for preparing the funeral and arranging everything so that you didn’t have to. You appreciated that. If it had been left to you, nothing would have been done.

Cautiously looking around at the people in your kitchen, you made your way to the hob, noticing how the steam still rose from the pipe. Polly must have already made a round before you had come out.

You felt a presence to your left and noticed the figure reaching out to you, a cup in hand. You look up and meet the blue eyes of John. The familiar irises which you had almost forgotten the sight of. His face held an apologetic, sad smile but you couldn’t even bring yourself to acknowledge this act. Face remaining solemn and still, blank of all expression. You watch his eyes fall to look at the ground temporarily before rising back to your face again.

‘Do you want me to make it?’ he asks quietly as the other people in the room begin to leave or busy themselves. Your eyes flicker to the retreating figures for a moment, watching the sunlight peak in through the door as people filed through.

‘No’ your voice doesn’t sound like your own when you answer, hoarse and broken from lack of use over the past few days.