n// a few months late but this goes out to harry styles for releasing the masterpiece that is "fine line" i love u bitch <3
ps if u squint hard enough it looks like she's wearing a peaky cap
Sybil was ashamed of herself in a way that she could never have imagined she would be in her lifetime. She was at a loss for words to describe how she felt, but at the moment, only one could really sum it up: happy. And she hated it with every fibre of her being.
She had become almost fully adjusted to living with the Shelby man of her dreams over the few short days that she'd been there, and she could honestly say that she hadn't felt that content in all her life. Because as she grew wiser, she realised that love wasn't the enemy — loneliness was.
Despite her initial abhorrence towards domesticity, she sure was eating it up. She liked having someone to come home to. She liked having someone that she could always talk to, even if she didn't want to. And most of all, she loved that it was Thomas Shelby of all people that was the one to show her this light. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sybil Day was thriving.
However, there was a demon crawling up her back that made its way into her head when she least expected it. Nay — not a demon; a ghost.
Killing a man changed her in ways she never thought imaginable. She thought that being rid of the man would grant her some sort of inner peace and a new sense of calm, as she no longer had to deal with him. And she knew that she would feel badly — as is only natural for a sane human being — but no one could have prepared her for what exactly she would be feeling after the fact.
She found herself looking over her shoulder every two minutes, and found herself and more apprehensive about leaving her man's home. It was already bad enough that every cop in Birmingham was breathing down his neck, but they were also aware of her existence — something that she never wanted. She was scared to even go into work, and as soon as that was over and done with, she kept her head down and tried to look as unremarkable as humanly possible on her way back to the Shelby residence. Upon getting there, she would enter and lock the doors as quickly as she could, and look through the peephole to make sure that no coppers were following her. The paranoia was worse than the guilt, but Sybil Day would be a liar if she said that she regretted killing that man. However, that didn't stop her from seeing his corpse every time she closed her eyes.
Nights were hard for Billie, and although she tried her hardest to keep it under control by herself, there were certain things that just couldn't be contained by the strength of one alone.
That's where Thomas Shelby came in.
Thomas had been dealing with his own demons since he'd stepped foot on British soil after his time in France, and although his methods of self medication weren't the finest or the healthiest, he knew that Sybil didn't need opium or alcohol. What she needed was someone that was there for her when the terror seeped into her pretty little thoughts as she slept. And so, that's what he became. And if Thomas Shelby didn't sleep before, he sure as hell didn't now. He watched his sweetheart with tender eyes and a heavy heart, watching as her face screwed up and whimpers escaped her form like clockwork.
"Sybbie," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. "Sybbie, wake up. It's just a dream, love. Wake up for me, yeah?"
Shaking her lightly, he managed to wake his sleeping beauty, loathing the look of fear and dread that seemed permanently etched into her beautiful features as of late.
'If only I'd gotten to him sooner...' he thought bitterly to himself. 'She would have no idea what any of this was like.'
"Tom..." she muttered, sighing apologetically. "Did I wake you again?"
"No," he answered deeply. "I wasn't sleeping."
While Tommy didn't mind staying awake, Sybil sure as hell minded keeping him awake. She couldn't stand the guilt of killing a man, and she couldn't stand the guilt of becoming a burden because of her act, either. She longed for the days of which she was independent in that sense— where she wasn't a bother or a chore or anything else for that matter. And no matter what reassurances she was given, she wouldn't budge on that.
"Too busy babysitting me, that's why."
"Don't call it that."
"That's what it is, isn't it?"
"No," he said sternly. "It isn't."
"Then what is it then?"
"Taking care of the woman I love."
Tommy saying that he loved her was still something that was earth shatteringly new to her, but in the best way — even in situations of this sort. She still felt all of the butterflies and lightheaded airy sensation that reminded her of a summer breeze blowing between her ears.
Sighing, Billie shifted so that she was closer to the man, and he wrapped his arms around her like he always did. Resting her head on his shoulder, she began tracing the lines of his sunrise tattoo (which she found to be her favourite) and placed a feathery kiss on his chest.
"It's rotten work," she muttered, not looking up at the man.
Even through her deepest trials and tribulations, Sybil was a proud woman indeed.
"No," Tommy replied, shaking his head. "No it isn't. Not when it's you."
Sybil shook her head right back, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.
"You should try taking care of yourself," she scolded. "I haven't seen you sleep in ages."
"I don't sleep, Sybil Day."
"So broody," Billie teased. "Some rest would fix that right up."
"Broody, eh?"
"Oh, yes. Horrifically broody. Too much so, actually. In fact, you're so intolerable, I think I might just—"
As Billie made a false move to get up, Tommy laughed a little bit and squeezed her a little tighter to keep her right where she was. Placing a kiss on her hair, he brushed some of it out of her eyes as she gazed up at him.
"Tommy?" Sybil asked after a little moment of silence.
"Hmm?"
"If tomorrow we woke up and the world was ours, what would you do with it?"
Her question was innocent, and most of all, it was genuine. Like if she didn't get an answer, she would never be able to rest again. This, Tommy noticed, was one of her coping mechanisms for when things got too rough, or when she wanted to ignore the world outside for a little while. She would ask him questions about a world that was theirs and theirs alone — a world she had control over. Needless to say, he never minded. Truth be told, he found himself appreciating the escapism, as well.
"That's easy, love."
"Do tell."
"I would take you to the countryside. Get a big house — a house so fucking big we don't even know what to do with it — and raise horses. No neighbours to disturb us, no fucking coppers, no family, no stress, and no wars. Just us, the countryside, and our horses."
"That sounds lovely..." Billie replied, thinking of the daydream her love had spun.
"I'd build you your own library, too," Tommy continued. "Every book you could imagine and a hundred more that you can't imagine. And a garden, as well. So during the summer you could read outside. You would never have to lift a finger again, Sybbie. Not if I had anything to do with it."
"And what about you? What would you build for yourself?"
Tommy was silent for a moment, too caught up in his vision of love to even remember that he was part of this as well.
"I'd learn how to make gin," he decided. "Bring in some honest money."
Sybil giggled at this, throwing her head back a little before regaining composure.
"Gin," she repeated. "And what would the... 'Shelby Company Limited' call their gin?"
"Already naming my company, are we? Pushy girl."
"Answer the question, Thomas."
"I'd call it what it is: gin."
"Well, you need a bit more than that."
"I'm not a man who writes slogans, sweetheart."
"Maybe so, but you're a man who thinks. I'm sure you could figure something out."
"Well, I'll think about it, and let you know when I have it." he acquiesced, rolling his eyes.
"Promise?"
"If I must."
Satisfied with his answer, she nodded, and got back to their fantasy at hand.
"What else would we do?"
Tommy thought on it for a second, contemplating on what he would do for the woman that deserved the world now that he could give it to her.
"I'd build a school," he eventually decided. "I'd be headmaster, you'd be head teacher, and it'd be a school for orphans, poor children, immigrants; whoever needs it."
Sybil smiled softly at the idea, already being able to picture it perfectly. The brick buildings, the sounds of the children's giggles floating throughout the hallway, and the general overall warm atmosphere that she and Tommy would be sure to bring them.
"And why wouldn't I be the headmaster, hmm?" she questioned him teasingly.
"Because one of us is better at the disciplinary side of things, love." Tommy spoke nonchalantly. "Don't think I don't notice how you deal with Finn."
Sybil gasped a little bit in shock, but smiled nonetheless.
"That's not fair!" she chided. "Finn's special and you know it."
"Not just Finn, though, is it?" he teased, looking down at her.
"Every child is special in their own way."
"That's exactly as I thought."
Sybbie rolled her eyes at her love, but knew that he was right. She could never really be hard on the children, but Tommy could. But she knew that he would be fair, and just. No matter what, he would be sure about that.
"A free school for orphans, poor children, and immigrants with a gangster as a headmaster and woman in charge of everything else." the woman mused, laughing a little bit. "A rather communist thought, is it not?"
"Just wait until I get into parliament."
"Parliament, eh?"
"Thomas Shelby, OBE." he spoke matter of factly. "Has a nice ring to it, I figure."
Sybbie looked at the man across from her with nothing but complete and utter fascination. She knew next to nothing about the ins and outs of his current business, and yet, here he was, letting her into the deepest parts of his future plans.
"You've got it all figured out, haven't you?" she asked in amazement.
"No," he shook his head. "But I've got a plan. I'm not going to be in some back alley razor gang forever, Sybbie. I'm going legitimate. I'm going to do whatever the fuck I have to do to make sure of that. What I'm doing now — all the fucking bullshit I'm doing now — is the foundation for my future; our future, if you want it. One day, all your hypotheticals won't be hypothetical anymore. I'll get us whatever we want. The house. The horses. The fucking school. I'll build it all from this foundation up. And you'll be right by my side, where you belong. Where you've always belonged."
Thomas gazed down at his love, eyes ablaze with determination. He would make sure she got whatever she wanted and what she deserved if it was the last thing he did.
"It won't be easy," he continued. "But it'll be worth it. I'll burn this whole fucking place to the ground if I have to. All our problems now will be in the past. No fucking coppers, no Archibald Hayes, no Irish barmaids, none of it. It'll just be us and the world we as we want it."
As soon as we was finished, Sybil kissed him passionately, igniting another spark in the man.
"How lucky I am to love you..." she muttered, looking at his handsome face with adoration and devotion.
"The luck is all mine, love."
And to Thomas, he really meant it. To him, loving Sybil came as naturally as breathing. It was something he had always done — something he couldn't even remember not doing. But her loving him was something he would never get over. It was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and was the driving force he needed behind all of his ambitions. Sybil Day made him strive to be a better man. And that, he would be.
"So what do you say, eh, Sybbie?" he asked curiously, letting his guard down just an inch.
"As long as you'll have me, I'll be here."
"There's no one else on this planet that I want more than you."
"Then I'll always be here, come what may." she smiled softly.
"Get some rest," he spoke, pulling her in closer and planting a kiss on her hair. "We've got a big future ahead of us, but it'll be there in the morning. Sleep, love. No more nightmares will plague you tonight. I promise."
"You should take your own advice, then..." she muttered, eyes feeling heavy already. "I'll see you in the morning, Tom."
"I'll see you in the morning, Sybbie." he replied, finding himself doing as told for once.
And as the two lovers drifted to sleep in each other's arms with nothing but thoughts of their shared future spinning around their heads, they found themselves at peace. At last, the sounds of digging were gone, and the colour of crimson staining the floors was nowhere to be found. All there was left was the soft snores coming from both of them, and the flickering of the dim candle.
Peace at last.