TOUGH LOVE • MICHAEL GRAY FANFIC

4

I put my hand on the table, "Because you had your life ahead of you. Don't you remember what we promised each other? We'd make a good life out of our shitty circumstances. Remember?"

"I'm doin' that."

"By getting involved with the Peaky's?"

"I had no choice! Polly's their aunt, she's blood. Which makes me blood. Ok? And anyway, I'm strictly doing the legal work, alright?"

"But you still end up with bullet wounds in ya," I shake my head, does he hear himself? "I'm not tryin' to be an arse to you, trust me, I'm not." I establish that, make sure to get it through his thick head.

"Then what are you trying to do?" He attacks me, and I only recoil.

"I-" I mutter, trying to control myself from blurting out that I care immensely about this man. God-he's annoying. For fuck sakes, why am I even invested?

"A man died right beside me." He whispers, "My cousin, John. He got shot on his own doorstep, June. His wife only a few feet from us. The bullets that hit me, they," He catches his breath, his chest raising up as if to he couldn't breathe at all. "Some of 'em went through him first before lodging into me."

I watch Michael and can only see a glimpse of the horrors being played out on his face. The way he looks at me, like I'm the one responsible for this mess. He's traumatized. Which only reminds me of the soldiers who'd come through the emergency doors wailing because of the war that still went on in their minds. Michael looks almost different as he stares at me, like a frail little boy, and not a man with power.

I get off of my chair and move myself to crouch down before him. I rest on hands on his knees, looking up at him, the training from school wasn't to touch patients who suffer from PTSD, but to console them. They could lash out on you, but Michael's never hurt me, nor will he ever. My heart swells in sadness, as he glances around, trying to escape his eyes from meeting mine.

"Oh Michael, I'm so, so sorry." I shake my head.

"I promise, June." He grits his teeth, "I promise, I tried to get you the hell out of there. I tried to get the police to help me, I tried everything." He swallows, looking down at me, his eyes well up, and that makes me melt. "I tried everything, no one trusted me, said, a little boy like me has no busy spreading lies about the church."

"I believe you." I reply, forcing myself to smile. "I believe you,"

He grabs my arms and pulls me up, "Come here."

His eyes darken before he puts me on his lap. I flush, nervously as he snakes his arm around my back, holding me down. He licks his lips, nodding slowly. His eyes fall on my lips. "Mum said I looked smitten," He tells me in a slow, soft voice. "She was pissed because I didn't defend her."

"She's a piece of work, that lady." I move my hand around his neck, my fingers scratch against the back of his scalp. "Your mother." It sounds weird saying that to a boy I knew to be an orphan.

"She is." He smirks. "What if I kissed you. Right now." He exhales, "Because I really want to."

Whoa. What a turn of emotions. Everything in my body clenches, his voice alone does things to me that I never expected to feel. I stare at his lips, remembering that Michael never had anyone while in the orphanage, sure we were only twelve but there were plenty of twelve year-olds fucking or at least shamelessly flirting. I never asked him about that before, even though I wanted to. Truth be told, I never let any of the boys into my life because I was so infatuated with him. He was a handsome young man, clearly. If he looks Godly right now.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, husked voice. Moving his eyes to mine, a dark desire courses through me.

I lick my bottom lip before bitting down on it. "I'm thinking about when we were children, and how you never had anyone."

"I did." He squints his eyes, before sending me a lopsided, cheeky smile. "You."

My mouth opens, as I only want him. My thighs ache, his scent intoxicating.

"June," He whispers softly against my ear. His fingers drag up and down my arm, I can feel his nail graze my skin. I shiver. "June, I want you."

I lick my lips again, and turn my head so that his lips are not pressed against my ear, but rather the corner of my mouth. I want to touch him, I want to feel him, but it's hard when I feel like my heart might explode.

"What if I tell you I don't want this? What if this is too much." I whisper against his lips, I've not kissed him. My eyes flutter shut, feeling his hand wrap around my waist and pull me in against his chest. The next time I open my eyes, it's to see the various hues of yellow and brown in his green eyes. Beautiful boy.

"I'd say your body tells me something else." He breathes, right before we kiss. It's violently passionate, and but only because his lips and mine refuse to cooperate. He's impatient, I'm impatient. We both rely on each other to kiss, our tongues never parting.

"What do you want?" He asks, grabbing my cheeks. He pushes my hair from my face, shaking me lightly. "What do you want, June?"

"You." I tell him, pressing my eyes open. "I want you, Michael."

He moves his thumb over my bottom lip, and it's like the room stops spinning for a single second as his other hand makes it way to the shoulder of my dress. Bringing it down to reveal my bare arm. My skin is not perfect, and the burns I received from the house fire have only scarred me. Blotches of pink, purple run down my left shoulder, down my back, up to my left breast. I had gotten burned really bad before one of the medics had dragged me out. Third-degree burns.

I dip my shoulder away from his touch, and watch as he looks back at me. He saw my scars, he didn't do or say anything. "What is it?" He chides, his eyes suddenly alarmed. 

"I-" I look at him, remembering Hughes words: These scars are horrendous, not even the Lord will accept them. How will you ever maintain a marriage with these hideous attributes. You need to ask for forgiveness. Get on your knees, and beg.

"I just." I blurt out, getting off of his lap. I grab my coat without thinking and push my hair back. These scars, even if they are a part of me, I've been scolded for having them. Told to suck cock in order to ask for forgiveness of my flaws. I push my arms into the coat, my eyes already darting to the ground to see my white furball.

"June," He calls, sighing heavily. He gets up, as I put on my coat, he reaches for me.

"You think I care about your scars?" He grab me by my arms, forcing himself in front of me. His eyebrows pull together, eyes still wide, his expression softens. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And your body," He lets out a exhausted exhale. "Your scars are not a concern to me. You're the most beautiful thing on this Earth, ever since we were children. I've always thought you were beautiful."

I look up at him, my bottom lip trembling. This is the first time I've ever been with anyone, everyone else I was too scared to be with. I get scared of strangers, for goodness sake. The way Hughes and the other Father's had hurt me, it only left me paranoid, every man I even thought I was remotely attracted to had the potential of being my rapist.

Michael Gray. My eyes raid his, as the thought of what happened to him behind closed doors comes to mind. He was touched just as much as I was I reckon, trying to protect me. He let them touch him, because he cared about me. The memory of his words come back to me.

Don't let them hurt me, ok, Henry?

I won't. I'll protect you, Juney, I promise.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his arms engulf me in a hug so big and comforting, I almost combust. Shutting my eyes and hearing him breathe. We stay like that for a while, holding one another. Until I pull away and let my shoulder drop. "Can I," I ask, watching as he already begins to nod his head. "Can I stay the night?"

He nods again, this time smiling and showing off those teeth of his. "Of course."