Peaky Blinders Imagines

"Lets keep the fire going."

John Shelby Imagine #4

          I groaned as I lifted up the heavy box onto the window sill, then pushed it as far as I could so it plummeted to the ground below. The box broke as it came in contact with the ground and the sweet sound of glass breaking filled the air.

           "Serves you right." I said to myself as I peered down at the destruction in my lawn.

          I had thrown out almost all of the belongings that cluttered my house, both physically and emotionally. Clothes and shoes scattered the ground, a guitar and a gramophone were smashed up nearby, and now a box filled with expensive cameras and art was shattered onto the walkway.

          I smiled at my work and then grabbed the last item that I knew was of value and tossed it out the window. The radio came crashing nearby, pieces flying in multiple directions.

          I made my way downstairs, making sure to grab my lighter as I did so. The front door was wide open but I still pushed it open further in frustration. I looked around the yard, flicking the lighter on and off with my thumb.

          Eventually I gathered all of the items into a large pile, then proceeded to light one of his dress shirts on top, the entire pile easily igniting. I made myself comfortable leaning against the wall of my house and lit a cigarette as I watched the inferno grow.

          I don't know how many minutes had passed before I heard footsteps approach, but when they did the fire was in full swing.

          "What the fuck are you doing?" A voice asked.

          I sighed, "Go away, John."

          He scoffed and walked over to me, sitting himself down beside me. I knew he wasn't going to leave, so I offered him my cigarette, which he gladly took. We sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He reached over, running my thumb over my cheek. While I enjoyed the silence, eventually it was broken when he spoke.

          "Are you going to tell me what happened or are we just going to sit here in silence?" He pulled his hand away from my face.

          "I don't want to talk about it." I whispered sadly.

          "Well let's start with something you can answer." He replied, throwing an arm around my shoulders, "Who's shit are you burning?"

          "George's."

          He didn't answer. I'm sure he could figure out easily why I would be burning the belongings of my boyfriend/fiancé of 4 years. Without a word he pulled me into him, hugging me to his chest. Slowly I wrapped my arms around him as well, just being comforted in the moment.

          "You should go before he gets here, John." I warned softly.

          I didn't want him here when George came. There would be fighting no doubt and John didn't need to be here for it. Plus I had a feeling John would try to beat the shit out of him, which I would enjoy but most definitely didn't want to deal with.

          "I'm not fucking leaving unless it's with you."

          "I have to do this, John." I pulled myself out of his grasp and stood up, walking over to the fire that was still burning a few feet away.

          John climbed to his feet and walked over to me, taking my hand in his. We stood and watched the fire for another few minutes, the moment cut short when a familiar car pulled down the road and to a stop near the house.