the alleyway • john shelby

the alleyway

She sprinted down the narrow alleyway, chest heaving. Eventually, she had to slow down, as she felt all air had left her lungs. She heard John come closer, gradually slowing his pace as she slumped against the cold brick wall, sending shivers up her spine.

"Fuck, you're out of shape. Thought you could run farther than that." He breathed out, clearly not as exasperated as she was. Her eyebrows furrowed, but a cheeky grin never left her face. "What was that anyway, one mile?"

She rolled her eyes at the cocky bastard, "Sorry not all of us have to run from coppers. Trust me, if this run had happened a year ago, you would be just as out of shape."

"Ay, not my fault the bloody police no longer accept bribes." She looked over at him, his face partially visible in the moonlight. The man always looked so damn dapper, in moments like these she realized how attractive he really was. They have known each other for awhile, but their relationship had no strings attached. She was a late night phone call. Someone to vent to in the wee hours, but no one of significance to him. That somewhat killed her, but even if this was all she could get with him, she would just have to accept that.

They met two years ago when she was working at a pub just outside Small Heath. She always saw him on Saturday nights with the boys, drinking and laughing through the night. At first, he was purely someone to admire from afar. She never had the courage to talk to him, so naturally, he made the first move.

One night he called her over to the back, drunk as a sailor. He named her his personal barmaid, always winking at her whenever she brought a fresh round of pints to the Peaky boys. Snapping back to reality, she found herself smiling at the ground.

"What are you all happy about? Thought you were supposed to be too tired to move." John smirked, a cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth filling the air with the familiar scent of tobacco.

"Nothing, just thinking about memories." She looked off at the other end of the alleyway, where the distant glow of streetlights hailed.

"Tommy wants me to marry." He suddenly croaked, looking at his feet. Her head snapped in his direction, heart skipping a beat. Her worst nightmare was to witness John with another woman. "Who" was the only word that managed to escape her lips.

"Some Lee girl, he wants to settle the gypsy war with a marriage."

"Do you want to marry her?" She sheepishly asked, attempting to hide her interest as a lover and sound like a concerned friend. Friend. The word just felt disgusting.

"'Course not! Tommy needs to fucking realize that I'm not a pawn. Arthur and I are just as much involved in this business as he is. He needs to get that through his thick fucking head." He took a long drag of his cigarette, calming himself down. "To be honest, I don't think I have much of a say in the matter." She didn't dare say a word, all she wanted to say was that she loved him, but the words never seemed to come out.

"Fuck it." Stomping out his cigarette, he made his way over to her, passionately grabbing her face in his hands, and kissing her. She immediately caved into his arms, feeling as if she was the star of a glamorous picture film.

When they pulled apart, she looked into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity in a matter of mere seconds. "Look, John-" She started after he began to turn away, but when he heard her voice, he turned back to face her. "I couldn't live with myself if this is the last time I can speak to you honestly. If this is the last time I see you without a ring on your finger."

Breathing deeply, she prepared for the bombshell she was about to drop. "I know this was a meaningless fling, but fuck, John. I caught feelings. I just-" She paused, thinking momentarily. "I can't be in Small Heath if you marry her. It would break me."

She felt as if her heart was going to explode, seeing the ambiguous look adorning John's face.

He was at a loss for words. She was standing in front of him, tears in her eyes, the sincerity evident on her face. Of course, he felt similarly, every time her face lit up a fire ignited in his soul. He never knew she wanted anything more, as she was always carefree and free-spirited. He just assumed she didn't want to be held down by a man.

"So, take me or leave me." She demanded, desperately needing a reply from him.

"Thought you never wanted me to be your man." He whispered, barely audible.

"That obviously isn't what I want now." Hearing these words, he beamed down at her, engulfing her in his arms. He passionately kissed her again, this time slower, putting every ounce of meaning and care into the affectionate act. Pulling away gently, the only words that left his mouth were "Well, thank fuck you do, 'cause from now on that's what I'll be."