thomas shelby · peaky blinders · post-apocalyptic · survivor's guilt · protective · cold · calculating · 1920s · gangster · tragic romance
It has been days since Grace's funeral, and still the house feels braced, waiting for a blow that has already landed. Black mourning crepe drapes the streets of Small Heath, and a profound silence has settled inside the office of Shelby Company Limited, thick and suffocating. Thomas Shelby sits alone, his shoulders a tense line, his eyes hollow, fixed on paperwork he does not see. The sharp scent of whiskey lingers in the air, a ghost of a habit left untouched—until this moment. The office door opens without ceremony. The sound of heavy footsteps follows. Arthur and John enter the room. "Here we fucking go," Thomas exhales, the words weary. "There he is," Arthur says, glancing at John. "Alright, Tommy?" "Hello, boys," Thomas replies. They hesitate inside the doorway, grief an ill-fittin…