#the dramatic flare his suit adds to him is so silly

[whentommymetalfie]

Breathe Again -Chapter one

-The truth, the glow, the fall-

Prologue

Chapter summary: Alfie wakes up to find a guest on his doorstep. It throws  a wrench into his plan of being dead in peace. 

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy 

Warnings: suicidal themes, mental instability, mild violence, 

Wordcount: 5100 

Alfie is none too fucking pleased to be awakened by such a rude thing as knocking. And loud knocking, at that, on his bedroom door. If a man can’t get out of bed in his own fucking time even when he’s dead then what does that say about the state of the world?

”Mister Solomons-” More bloody knocking. ”Sir, I’m sorry to wake you but-”

Alright, Esther keeps fucking talking and he can barely hear it because he’s still half asleep, floating in a blissful kind of deep water and there, far below the surface all the sounds are muffled. But when the godawful knocking just continues, he’s forced to open his eyes and try to reconnect with his body. Always an unpleasant experience. Granted, it’s getting better (which truly is a strange turn of events because who would’ve thought?) and everyday his joints feel a bit less achy- but mornings are still difficult. Not to mention that most mornings half his face feels like it’s somehow stiffened throughout the night, and like he’s wearing some kind of mask made of wax on top of his own, real face.

All in all waking up is an altogether unpleasant experience and it’s not made better by that bloody knocking.

“Alright, alright, fucking hell woman-“ He sits up and rubs his one good eye as the sun pierces through the curtain to add insult to injury. “I’m awake-“

And then the door opens on top of it all. Truly no limits to overstepping boundaries today apparently-

“Bloody hell! Can a man get one moment to make himself fucking decent around here?” he grunts as if his sorry state will somehow shock her. Few things will do that once you’ve had to spend the first months of your employment helping someone in and out of a bathtub. But still, it’s a matter of principle really.

Esther, predictably, is entirely unfazed in that way only a woman closing in on sixty who’s already seen most things the world has to offer, can be.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but this really can’t wait,” she says. “There’s- Well, I don’t quite know how to say this but there’s a… man. Outside.”

Alfie blinks at her.

“A man?”

“Yes. And he appears to be in pretty bad shape-“

This is too much information to take in at this hour and during these circumstances. Unacceptable really. Alfie has half a mind to just lie back down and go back to sleep and see what happens.

“Is he some drifter eh? Some poor sod who’s just wandered off the road and ended up outside my house? Because if so, and not to sound crass here, but if so, then I think that we’ll just leave him be and see if he decides to wander off again, yeah?”

“No, he’s- There’s something wrong. I think he might be injured. Or sick.”

Alfie says a silent prayer for patience, and takes the opportunity to ask his God why he’s decided to gift him with this on this particular morning.

“Right, alright, I’m fucking coming. Just let me get some bloody clothes on first, eh? Reckon a minute or so won’t hurt him.”

With a curt nod, relief washing over her features, Esther leaves the room.

Alfie does get dressed. He just doesn’t do it particularly fast. So when Esther’s steps approach in the corridor outside, he’s just gotten his waistcoat on. But he opens the door before she can knock again, leaving the cane behind and instead shoving his revolver into the waistband of his trousers. Because fuck knows where his holster has gone. Neither Gods nor dead men have any use for a holster.

Alfie Solomons, however, might just have use for a gun when there’s a strange man apparently taking a nap outside his fucking house.

Esther takes the lead through the house to the living room. Or rather, one of the living rooms. His preferred one, with glass doors opening up towards the sea and a staircase leading right down to the beach. Esther moves out of the way when he lets out a noncommittal grunt. Then he opens the door and goes to assess the damage.

First of all, it’s a lovely day outside. Or about to be. It’s the bloody crack of dawn, innit? But the sky is a warm, pinkish orange, and the wind is just quietly rustling through the grass, leaving the sea a glossy mirror.

And at the foot of his steps lies the barely recognizable form of none other than Tommy Shelby.

He’s slumped over the last few steps, curled on his side close to the wall of the house. Dressed in nothing but an undershirt and trousers. Even his feet are bare. And it could be that Alfie’s never seen him dressed in anything but a three piece suit, but he looks absolutely tiny. Impossibly small and fragile, cheeks sunken in and with dark circles colouring the skin under his eyes. The long hair on top of his head falls in tousled curls over his face.  

“I tried talking to him but he didn’t seem to hear me-“ Esther says from behind him, clearly concerned. “Should I call someone?”

Call who? Yeah sure, Alfie could potentially call some of his men in London to have them take care of it, but it’d be hours before they’d arrive. Could call Tommy’s fucking family, but then he’d have the premises swarming with Shelbys and that would be a fate worse than death.

“Nah, just go put the kettle on,” Alfie grunts and steps outside. Esther hesitates but then disappears into the house.

Tommy remains motionless.

“Tommy?” Alfie says as he approaches, gaining no reaction. “Oi, Tommy! Fancy calling before you just decide to drop by like this?”

He halts on the steps where Tommy lies and kicks him. Not hard. Not at all, he’s not cruel. Well, not when it comes to Tommy at least. That does the trick, though. Tommy lets out a pitiful little whimper which for some strange bloody reason sends a pang right through his chest. Won’t do anyone any good to look further into that, so Alfie just kicks him again. But it’s more just a prod with his toe.

“Go on sleeping beauty. Do you mind waking up and telling me why you’ve decided to crash on my doorstep?”

Finally Tommy opens those ice blue eyes. Just a sliver. But Alfie gets the pleasure of watching the long eyelashes flutter and he’s not ashamed to admit that it’s a lovely sight.

Tommy looks up at him. Just looks. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just gazes listlessly at him. And that, that unsettles him, doesn’t it? Because even when Tommy stood in his doorway all those weeks ago, with that look of absolute dejection at having a gun pointed at his face, there was some semblance of… somethingbehind his eyes. Perhaps not that sharp spark that usually resided in them, but at least there was more than this complete emptiness.  

“If you wanted to come visit you could’ve just said so,” Alfie says. “No need to be so dramatic about it. Then again I do suppose you have a flare for that, don’t you? Trying to assassinate someone on stage- Figured that wouldn’t work, you silly boy. Is that why you’ve been hiding from everyone this past month? Yeah, don’t think I haven’t heard about it-“

As he talks he stares Tommy straight in the eye. Or at least tries to, because after just two sentences or so, Tommy’s gaze slips down to the pillars bordering staircase instead. Perhaps he’s looking out at the sea?

Alfie throws his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, since you’ve made it perfectly clear you’re not planning to move, or even fucking answer me, I suppose I’ll just go inside. Because I don’t really feel like standing around out here.”

That’s a lie, he absolutely doesn’t mind being outside. Quite prefers it actually. His best past time these days is sitting in his armchair with the glass doors open and read.

He fully expects Tommy to follow him. Or say something. Or just… do anything.

But Tommy doesn’t follow him. Alfie goes inside anyway, because he’s got to at least attempt to keep up appearances.

Esther enters the room carrying a tray with tea, her eyes instantly drawn to the door.

“How is he?”

“He’s just fine,” Alfie mutters, seats himself in his favourite armchair and reaches for his book. “Just sulking a bit, isn’t he?”

Esther furrows her brow and sets the tray down in front of him, before going to look out the door.

“Mister, there’s tea if you’d like some?”

“Just leave him be,” Alfie huffs and pours himself a cup. “Go do something useful instead. He’ll come inside when he feels like it.”

Esther furrows her brow, a huffed breath escaping her. But she leaves.

For a long while, Alfie just sits there waiting. Admittedly there’s some element of excitement to this whole thing. Being dead is peaceful but can get a bit boring at times. So for now, he views this as simply a little break in his daily routine, waiting for Tommy to come inside. Perhaps reveal he’s had some kind of plan all along, that for some reason involved putting on this show…

But Tommy doesn’t come inside.

Alfie drinks two cups of tea and reads not two but three chapters of his book. Or rather, tries to tell himself that he’s reading, while actually just sitting like on pins and needles waiting.

If this is some kind of game, it’s a strange one, but he wouldn’t put it past Tommy…

But then he thinks about it. Really thinks about it; The fragile appearance, the dishevelled clothing... Tommy wouldn’t let anyone see him like that, not even if it was part of some elaborate scheme. The bare feet somehow bother him the most. Those, and the empty look in his eyes.

So once the third chapter is finished, he finds himself closing the book and getting out of his chair without having consciously made the decision.

And Tommy… Tommy is still on the fucking steps. Curled right where Alfie left him, close to the wall, gaze fastened on the opposite pillars. He’s shaking now. Fuck. It’s fucking cold outside, and for some bloody reason Alfie feels guilty for not having considered that.

Leave it to Tommy fucking Shelby to stir up those kinds of strange emotions by merely existing on his steps.

“Alright, enough’s enough, Tommy,” Alfie grunts and ambles towards him. “How about you come inside for a bit, hm? While I call and get a car to come pick you up. How the fuck did you get here by the way-“ He looks up and down the beach, scratching his beard. Not very likely that Tommy would’ve left his fucking car on the beach now though, is it? “Can’t have walked all the way from fucking Birmingham. Or is this some new idea you’ve had? Make a pilgrimage on foot to the newly instated deity, eh?”

Tommy just keeps staring at- yeah at whatexactly? The sea? Granted it’s a nice view, but Tommy isn’t the type to stare at the sea for two fucking hours straight.

Suddenly Tommy’s head jerks a little and he shakes it erratically, eyes wide… Alright, either he’s putting on one hell of an act, or something is seriously wrong. And Tommy may be a scheming little cunt -a scheming little cunt with eyes men could drown in and a face chiselled by God himself, but a cunt nonetheless. But Alfie would like to think the two of them have some kind of understanding. And included in that understanding is that they’re upfront about their schemes and betrayals. This -the bare feet, the haunted look in his eyes, the fucking… sitting on Alfie’s steps for two goddamn hours without moving- this doesn’t seem like something Tommy would do.

Which leaves Alfie with the conclusion that something truly is very wrong. And it’s not very nice conclusion.

“Alright, Tommy, up you go,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest hoping to signal finality. “Get that scrawny arse inside and onto the sofa and I’ll have Esther make you a cuppa. Get you warmed up a bit. And then, like the truly saintly person I am, I’m going to call one of my men and get them to drive you home-“ That word, home, seems to register, even if none of the others do. Tommy shakes his head again, that erratic little shake. Still without looking at Alfie. “Yeah, sweetie, home. To that batshit crazy family of yours-“

That does it. Tommy’s entire body jerks as he stares up at Alfie, terrified. Clutches the arms tightly over his  chest.

“No.”

So he can in fact still talk…

“Sure. Bet they’re wondering where you’ve run off to-“

Tommy shakes his head so fervently that Alfie loses his train of thought. And then he grabs onto his trouser leg which, yeah, just seals the deal alright, something’s definitely wrong with him.

“No,” he repeats, “Please, please- they’ll- let them- Please I can’t- can’t be somewhere like that-“

Alfie decides that he’ll stop trying all together to make sense of what Tommy is saying. Besides, at the moment he’s thoroughly distracted by the fucking scar on the side of his head. He’s kept that side hidden, pressed close to the steps, but now he sees it. A red, angry line. Ridges and rivulets all along it. His hair has grown but that somehow just makes it all the more jarring.

Tommy grips harder onto his trouser leg and continues shaking his head and the thoughts about the scar will have to wait.

“Alright, alright, fucking hell I won’t call,” Alfie says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “ Let’s just go inside. How about that? You just come inside and sit there for a bit?”

God, why does he bother?

Because he’s bored.

And because he’s always had a week spot for pretty men, with pretty, blue eyes.

And empty, haunted blue eyes are still blue.

Those blue eyes are staring straight at his knee now, glazed over again, as Tommy keeps mouthing the word ‘no’ over and over. A cold gust of wind passes right through Alfie’s waistcoat and that settles it, he’s done standing here waiting. None to gently, he grabs onto Tommy’s upper arms and hauls him to his feet. He couldn’t have done that a year ago, but it’s a miracle what doing fuck all, getting plenty of sleep, and just generally being dead will do to a man. And Tommy was small to begin with, and has by now turned into the size of an injured bird. He sways precariously so Alfie pulls one of his arms over his shoulders. Tommy goes along with it as some kind of puppet with its strings cut.

“In we go, come on. Do you remember how to walk eh?” Alfie mutters and starts walking up the few steps to the front door. Tommy looks back at that spot again, between the two pillars. Because apparently two hours of staring at it wasn’t enough. But he does follow without a fight.

After a worryingly easy walk into the living room, Alfie deposits his precious cargo onto the sofa. Tommy pulls his knees up to his chest and curls himself into a corner, looking almost provocatively vulnerable. Alfie digs out several blankets from a chest he only now remembers he owns, and spreads them out over him without gaining much of a reaction at all.

He pops his head out in the corridor to get an excuse to look away from the unsettling sight, and calls for Esther. She appears moments later at the end of the corridor, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

“Make us another cuppa if you don’t mind, Esther. Strong and piping hot.”

With a nod she goes to carry the order out, and Alfie is forced to turn and face Tommy again.  

Tommy is looking right at him, eyes large and feral. They follow him warily as Alfie goes over to his armchair and slumps down in it.

“So, while we’re waiting, do you mind telling me where exactly you got that?” he says in obvious reference to the scar. He grins and gestures to his own, objectively much more gruesome one. “Did you feel a sudden urge to get a matching one, eh?”

Tommy blinks and his eyebrows draw together -second to his outburst a minute ago that’s the first sign he’s given of hearing Alfie at all. His eyes slip to the floor as he reaches up and runs the tips of his fingers over the scar. Patience isn’t Alfie’s strong suit and these interactions are quickly beginning to grate on him. And the thing is, usually this abject vulnerability would fucking provoke him. It doesn’t do to turn up at someone’s house in this state, least of all if that someone is a man like Alfie. Clearly Tommy has stopped viewing him as a possible threat. Silly boy should know better after so many years of this life -you can’t show weakness like that. People will exploit it.

But most of all, Alfie feels some bone deep fucking urge to… hurt whoever did this to Tommy. The list is long so finding someone to pin this on wouldn’t really be a problem.

The problem is that it’s entirely possible he did it to himself.

Tommy is still running his fingers along the scar. Over and over again, the same movement.

His eyes however have turned to one of the corners of the room. Alfie turns to look, it’s a in instinct really, but all he finds are the bookcases and the globe. Then again the bookcases are full of books and objects so there’s no trouble finding something to rest one’s eyes on. He thinks that Tommy might be looking at the stuffed crow.

“Yeah, got a funny story about that crow, don’t I? See that bird, that fucking bird had taken to waking me up every single morning by cawing real bloody loud,” he says and ignores that Tommy isn’t listening. “Drove me near mad. So one day I opened the window and shot it. Mind you it was an impressive fucking shot. Had a friend of mine stuff it to remind me that sleep’s important and all that, and that anyone who disturbs it might meet a quick and violent fate.“ It’s a lie of course, the thing about the crow. It belonged to a departed friend who thought it’d be funny to leave it to Alfie. “Which you have done by the way. Disturbed my sleep. So do you mind at least having the curtsey of answering my question?” He tries catching Tommy’s gaze but it’s hopeless. “Where did you get that scar?”

“I know,” Tommy mumbles to the crow. Or to the corner. Still touching the scar. “I’m sorry. I tried- I did-“

Alfie feels fucking queasy now. He should be used to seeing displays of human fragility, but this is making even him uneasy. When Tommy suddenly takes to violently scratching the scar, he shoots out of his armchair quicker than he’d like to admit, crashes down on the sofa and grabs his wrist. Staring at him with those wide eyes, Tommy fights him, weak as a kitten.

“Fucking hell, enough of this bloody nonsense, Tommy!“ He grabs onto his other wrist and holds it without much struggle, but Tommy just continues squirming, making terrified little noises behind closed lips. His breathing grows erratic, coming in quick bursts and Alfie can feel his pulse race underneath his fingertips.

“Tommy, no, fucking enough!” he barks and tries to somehow latch onto something in those terrified eyes. Tommy keeps fighting him, more of those little noises bubbling up his throat. It’s all wordless and feral and his breathing is so quick and shallow that he must be close to fucking passing out. He knows it’s physically impossible for a human heart to burst through a ribcage but still-

When Tommy pushes a foot out in a badly aimed kick at his ribs, a burst of hot rage swells behind Alfie’s temples- And he lets go of the bony wrists in pure shock.

“Enough!” he roars and when the growl does nothing except elicit another whimper from Tommy, he slaps him across the face. Hard. Seems to do the trick though. But instead of fighting and making those godawful noises, Tommy flings himself off the sofa and scoots backwards over the floor until he’s backed into a corner. There, he curls up into a tightly wound ball of limbs, arms over his head and head tucked in behind his knees.

Alfie just sits there on the sofa. Waits. But Tommy doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to hurt himself, but his entire fucking body is trembling and- Yeah, that’s… that’s not right, is it? Scratching his beard, he tries to swallow down the feeling of guilt bubbling up in his stomach. It’s as unexpected as it is unfamiliar.

It’s at that moment, Esther choses to show up with the tea.

“Oh dear,” she says, as she sets the tray down, eyeing Tommy with wide, worried eyes. “He’s in a bad way, isn’t he?”

Alfie only grunts in response.

“Would you like me to call the doctor? I could call Mr. Adelman-“

He shakes his head and staggers to his feet. “Nah, no fucking doctor. Don’t want to be dragging people out here until-“ Until what? Until he’s figured out what the fuck to do with this broken mess of a person who’s just decided to show up on his doorstep? Until he’s figured out what’s wrong with him? How he even got here… Why the fuck he’s here… Fuck, this is all together too much for one person to handle.

“Tommy? You planning on joining us anytime fucking soon, mate?” he asks and eyes the pitiful figure curled up in the corner. “Oi, I’m fucking talking to you.”

It’s useless, of course. It’s obvious Tommy can’t hear him, that he’s not all together there.

Not there at all.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Alfie exclaims. “All I fucking wanted was to live in peace and quiet, yeah? It was all going fucking brilliantly. And I let you into my house one fucking time and this is what happens? You just decide show up here like some kind of lost fucking dog-“

Esther hushes him. Fucking hushes him. But it takes him aback enough to quit yelling and stare at her instead. She takes a step back, eyes growing wide and he reckons he makes for quite a terrifying sight- the scar and hazy eye has added to that look. But then she squares her jaw.

“Apologies, Sir,” she says firmly. “But I really don’t think you should be yelling at him. That has rarely helped anyone calm down.”

He just stares at her. Bites his teeth together so hard that his molars fucking creak. And she stares back.

“May I?” she asks after several tense seconds have passed, nodding in Tommy’s direction. Tommy, who is still curled up into his protective little ball in the corner, trembling and now back to making those terrible little whimpering sounds again. Fuck, Alfie could shoot him right then and there for walking into his house and overturning everything.

For making him feel… whatever this feeling is.

But all he does is throw his hands up in defeat at Esther’s question and stomp across the room to retrieve his pipe just to have something to occupy himself with.

Esther meanwhile wastes no time, but slowly walks up to Tommy’s quivering form.

“Wouldn’t get too close if I were you,” Alfie mutters and shoves tobacco into the pipe with unnecessary force. “Might not look it but he’s a violent little thing.” And Esther has the guts to fucking huff at him, before she crouches down in front of Tommy.

That woman is all together insane.

Then again there was a reason he hired her out of all people.

“Hi there, love,” she says, gently, without touching him. “Did all that yelling scare you? Well, I promise that his bark is worse than his bite.”

Alfie rolls his one good eye -can’t really tell if his bad one rolls too, it tends to do whatever it pleases. Which Esther obviously can’t see so she continues, undeterred.

“You seem awfully cold. How about we get you over to that armchair, and I’ll give you a cup of tea…”

Alfie holds his breath when she reaches out and gently touches Tommy’s shoulder. He twitches, but does nothing else.

“You poor thing… Seems like you’ve been through enough as it is. But I promise you’re safe here. And I’ve told mister Solomons he can’t be yelling at you like that, so he won’t do that again-“

The fucking nerve. Why does he surround himself with these people willingly?

Esther has started rubbing Tommy’s shoulder and lo and behold, the shaking seems to subside. For some reason it incites more of that guilt, because clearly it’s not fucking impossible to calm him down, it’s just impossible for Alfie.

Underneath it there’s something else. Some unidentified feeling he refuses to acknowledge or put a label on right now, but it’s dangerously close to jealousy.

He focuses on lighting his pipe and looks out at the sea for a while, dreams of calmer, less complicated times when he was just a dead man minding his own business. Times like just yesterday.

Over in the corner, Esther has helped Tommy up on his feet and is now leading him to one of the armchairs. The softest one, with big plush cushions. Tommy’s eyes are flickering around the room, never in one spot for too long, but he obediently sits down and pulls his feet off the floor.

It’s strange, that. Tommy’s always had this rather reserved body language, preferring to cross one leg over the other instead of putting both feet on the floor in that wide stance and lean back in his seat as most men tend to. Not that Alfie pays any extra attention to Tommy or the way he likes to sit, but it’s impossible not to notice things like that and one must always be observant in this business… Point is, even though he always sits like he’s got a stick up his arse, Tommy never consciously makes himself smaller the way he is now.

“Here you go, dear,” Esther says and holds out a cup of tea for Tommy to take. “I don’t know how you take it, but I put a bit of milk in. And it’s not too hot, so you shouldn’t burn yourself.”

Tommy just stares at the cup, blinking. Esther waits patiently, but when he just keeps staring at it, she gently puts it down on the table next to the armchair.

“It’s alright, love, you go ahead and drink it in your own time,” she says softly, but there’s a concerned wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I’m going to go see if I can find you a pair of socks. And a jumper of some sort, you look awfully cold…” And with that she hurries out of the room with a somewhat admonishing look in Alfie’s direction.

Alone with Tommy again, Alfie finds himself at a loss. Clearly he doesn’t know how to handle this, so what is he supposed to do? But gentle and firm seems to be the route to go and he’s fucking capable of that isn’t he?  He’s not an animal. He takes a drag of smoke and watches Tommy, trying to figure out what to do now.

Tommy’s gaze has caught on something on the sofa and Alfie realises he’s staring at the blankets.

“You want them back, hm? Yeah, figure you do, you seem to be fucking freezing.”

He picks up the lot of them and goes over to the armchair. Of course Tommy doesn’t reach out for the blankets. Seems like he’s incapable of making decisions of his own if they don’t involve huddling in a corner. So Alfie picks out the softest one and unceremoniously drapes it over Tommy’s lap, trying to not get too close. But when Tommy doesn’t flinch, he actually takes care to drape the second one over his shoulders with a bit more precision. The last one he drapes across him too.

“There we go. Bet just warming up a bit will help. Never does anyone any good being that cold.”

He goes over to his own armchair and seats himself there; Tommy has gone back to emptily gazing at nothing in particular in that unsettling way, but his shoulders have dropped a bit.

Alfie decides to go back to the book he’s currently working on in an attempt to distract himself from this whole situation for a moment. There are about a million things he should be doing right now: Figure out what the hell is wrong with Tommy, where that scar came from, how he ended up here, why he ended up here... The list goes on, doesn’t it? But just thinking about it all makes him question this whole thing. What right does Tommy have to just fucking show up here and create all these questions? Granted, Alfie could call some people. Try to get some intel about what the hell has actually been happening in Birmingham this past month. But the thing is he was perfectly fine with just being dead. Sure, it may not be the most exciting or riveting of lifestyles but at least he got some fucking peace and quiet…

He’s honestly about to give up and demand that Tommy gets out of his fucking house. And he looks up to tell him that.  

Tommy is asleep in the armchair, blanket pulled up to his nose, bony fingers grasping the fabric. That fit must’ve drained the last bit of energy out of him. Not that he seemed to have much to begin with.

Alfie should wake him up. He should wake him up, drag him out of that chair, out the door and tell him to go back where he came from. So Alfie can go back to being a dead man in peace.

Long, dark eyelashes flutter slightly over the pale skin marred with dark circles. Tommy shifts the tiniest bit under the blankets and sinks a bit further into the cushions.

Alfie should wake him up.

Should throw him out.

But instead he just sits there watching him.

Fucking hell, what’s he gotten himself into... 

[taekookbook]

Heartbreak Girl - Part 15

Here is another apology to add to my list of apologies.

I’M SORRY FOR THE WAIT!🙊🙈

If any of you read the ‘Announcement… Sort of??’ post that I put up a little while ago then you’ll know why I’ve kind of been M.I.A. If you haven’t then please read the post so you can see my explanation.

Again, for those of you who have stuck with me through this series, it’s almost over. This is the second to last part and I’ve already started planning the last part in my mind🙌

I hope you’ve all enjoyed this series so far and I just want to say thank you to those of you who have stuck with this series💖

Fun fact: I listened to Sea off the new album on repeat (that song alone makes me emotional😭) while writing a big chunk of the last section and I cried (lol😂) so if you want to get in the mood start listening at, “But you should be.”

Remember:

Please feel free to make requests (send me a message) HERE, I look at everything and if you make a request I promise it will get done. The last few texts from my Anxiety/Depression Girlfriend Series and my Weird 3am Texts Series are in the making and I have something planned I think/hope you will all really like for when this series is done.

Enjoy my lovelies!😙

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Part 15 of 16 (It’s almost over…)

Length: 4031 Words

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 3.5 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5.1 / Part 5.2 /

Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 /

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“No, absolutely fucking not!”

The waiting area was vacant save for himself and the rest of BTS, including Jungkook much to his disappointment, who he was currently death staring because of the previous words he had dared to let escape his lips.

“Namjoon-ah, think this through.” Jin said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort but also to serve as a reminder to not try and grab Jungkook – again.

“No, I don’t need to think it through. Y/N is not staying with Jungkook while she recovers from her TGA.” He ground out, hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was enough that he was even addressing Jungkook and standing in the same room with him, now they’re agreeing with Jungkook and his idea to stay with Y/N while she gets through her TGA (which is all his fault).

Ridiculous.

“Namjoon hyung,” Jungkook spoke politely but he could see the glint in his eyes that showed he was holding back, “even her Doctor agrees that this is the best plan. I understand that you’re upset–”

“No you don’t fucking understand otherwise you wouldn’t be saying this shit! It’s your fault all of this happened, it’s your fault she’s in that hospital bed right now and it’s your fucking fault she doesn’t remember shit… doesn’t remember me.” His throat was sore from shouting and he could feel the ache behind his eyes from tears that desperately wanted to escape.

“You don’t think I know that?” Jungkook finally lost any remnants of what little composure he had and yelled back, “You don’t think I know that I royally fucked up again? Because I do! I know it’s my fault and I feel terrible enough without you reminding me that it is. I can never take this back, I can never undo what I did and I have to live with the fact for the rest of my life that I hurt the girl I still love, again!

I hate myself enough as it is, but right now it’s not about how I feel or about how you feel or about anyone else in the bloody waiting room may feel. Right now this is about what is best for Y/N, and what is best for her is to go home with someone she is most comfortable with at the moment and let her memories come back by themselves. Forcing her to remember stuff will only make her feel worse and make her anxiety come back in full force, and before you say it’s my fault her anxiety flared up in the first place, I already know that. All I want is to make sure she is in an environment where she feels comfortable, safe and happy and from then she can decide what happens with everything.”

Jungkook’s chest was rising and falling more noticeably now after he finished speaking, and as much as Namjoon wanted to argue, he couldn’t.

He wanted what was best for you and to make sure you recovered well, but the fact that you willingly wanted to be around Jungkook again was killing him and every fibre of his being was telling him to argue that.

“Fine.” He sighed, reluctantly meeting Jungkook’s gaze again and giving one stiff nod. “Fine, I agree, but I want to speak to her before she is discharged to go with him.” He turned to face your Doctor now who just nodded and gestured for him to follow.

“Well,” Yoongi mumbled, shoulders slumping as the tension in the room slowly disappeared, “that went about as well as I expected.”

***

“Hey, how are you feeling love?” Namjoon smiled softly and walked over to your bed, sitting in the chair that was placed beside it.

“I’ve been better.” You joked lightly, taking hold of his hand that was next to yours and squeezing it tightly, “Sorry I gave you all such a scare.” You mumbled, not able to meet Namjoon’s gaze for fear of what you would see in it.

“No, don’t apologise silly, it’s not your fault.” You felt rather than saw him wince when he said the last bit and sighed, shaking your head lightly.

“Joon-ah, don’t be mad at Kookie. I know this is because we fought, well at least I think that’s what lead to this if all the tension is anything to go by? But don’t be mad at him please? You know I can’t stand fighting or shouting of any kind, I just can’t believe I actually fainted. I feel so stupid and over-dramatic, I don’t think I have ever fainted before and hopefully it’s something that I never have to experience again, but most of all I feel so bad for worrying everyone.” You were still looking down at your lap where yours and Namjoon’s clasped hands were resting.

Gently, Namjoon squeezed your hand, his thumb still rubbing small circles on the back of your hand as he did.

“Listen Y/N, there is not much I can explain to you right now that would make much sense as to why I’m acting like this, but please just know that everything I’m feeling right now is extremely justified. However I will try keep calm and be polite, but only because it’s for you.” He got up after he was finished speaking and leaned over you, placing a small kiss on your forehead before turning to leave.

“Wait Joon-ah, where are you going?” You held onto his long fingers before his hand could fully escape your grasp and he moved back a step to hold your hand again properly.

“The Doctor is going to come in now and discharge you and then Jungkook is going to take you home. I would love to say I have the self-control to stay here when Jungkook comes in, or even come with when he takes you home, but I honestly don’t right now so it’s best if I just go.” Namjoon shot you a small smile and squeezed your hand once more before fully stepping away and opening the door.

“You’ll come see me later though right? At home?” You asked softly and the answering smile from Namjoon was enough for you to return one almost as bright as his.

***

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook blurts, startling you from where you were standing in the middle of your living room, staring at the couch as something ticked in the back of your mind. “Why are you apologising Kookie? There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You turn to face him where he’s still standing by your front door, your bag from the hospital clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white from the tension. He closes his eyes and a pained expression flits across his face before he opens them again and sighs. “It’s- nevermind. You should go shower and change, I’m sure you don’t want to smell like hospital longer than necessary.” Jungkook smiled at you briefly before looking away, taking a deep breath before motioning to your bag in his hands. “I’ll go put this in your room and then make you some tea. We should talk when you’re done.” Before you could respond he walked off in the direction of your room, leaving you alone in your living room. You turned back to look at your couch again, something pressing into the back of your mind the longer you stared, but after what could have only been a few minutes you felt the beginning of a headache start to form and looked away. Humming under your breath, you made your way to your en-suite bathroom in your room, finding your bag from the hospital sitting in the middle of your bed, clean sweatpants and a different hoodie already unpacked from it and sitting waiting for you to wear them. Smiling softly to yourself, you grabbed the clothes along with some clean underwear from one of your drawers and headed into your bathroom. *** Jungkook was a mess, to say the least. Pacing your kitchen as the kettle boiled, he waited for you to finish in the shower, running over what he wanted to say multiple times in his head. He thought this would be better. He thought his idea to have him come home with you while you still thought you guys were dating was a brilliant plan. He thought he would have time to talk about everything and that it would be easier because you thought you were still a couple. He was wrong. So very, very, wrong. As soon as he stepped back into your apartment, he was flooded with memories. Of the times when he would drop you off when you were dating, making out in the doorway as you both argued for ‘one more kiss’ before he’d leave. Of the time you spent in the apartment, baking together in the kitchen, movie marathons and building pillow forts in your living room, chasing each other through the rooms during tickle fights, the first time he whispered ‘I love you’ so softly in your ear after you’d told him about your anxiety, with tears in your eyes as you’d thought it might make him leave. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even realise the kettle had finished boiling and that the shower had stopped, so when you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, he jumped and yelped causing a giggle to fall from your lips. “Sorry Kookie, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” You laughed again softly before giving him a squeeze. “What are you thinking about so intently?” “Uh nothing, just zoned out for a bit I guess.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, gesturing to your living room with his other hand, “You should go sit and relax, I’ll be done with your tea soon and then we can talk.” You scrunched up your nose at his serious tone, playfully tapping him on the nose before laughing and skipping off to go plop yourself onto your couch. Jungkook sighed as soon as you were out of the kitchen and leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath to collect himself before making your cup of tea and one for himself and carrying them over to the living room. He placed both mugs on coasters on the coffee table and instead of sitting right next to you like he would’ve in the past, he left some space between the 2 of you instead, angling his body to face you. You definitely picked up on the change and adjusted how you were sitting so you now had your legs crossed and a throw pillow on your lap, your fingers playing with the zip for the cover. “Jungkook-ah?” You murmured softly and had to fight the frown wanting to take over your face as you saw him wince slightly at your soft tone.

“Jungkook-ah,” you tried again, “please don’t be upset that we fought. I might not remember much but I know that we can talk through it and work it out. I’m not mad or upset with y-”

“But you should be.” Jungkook cut you off, his voice raw as if he was holding back tears.

You tried to reach for his hand to comfort him and tried to get a look at his face to see if he was okay, but he snatched his hand back and turned his face away before you could properly do either.

“Kookie please, just let me-”

“No Y/N. Please… please don’t try and comfort me right now because it won’t work and I don’t even deserve it in the first place.” He sniffed once and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes before turning to face you again.

You were shocked at the amount of raw emotion that was swirling in them, but what hurt you the most was seeing how red they were and how there was already a fresh wave of tears welling up. You felt your own eyes start to water just from looking as his and had to blink several times to clear them.

“I’m going to tell you stuff now. Stuff that you will most definitely not like hearing and will probably make you hate me, it makes me hate me even thinking about it, but you have to hear me out. Please, that is the only thing I will ask of you, is to hear everything I have to say before leaving. And don’t try say that you won’t because I know you will, if I could get up and walk away from myself I would too.”

You were stunned into silence for few minutes before nodding your head and mumbling a quiet ‘okay’.

Jungkook took a deep breath and then he started.

“We’re not actually together anymore. We haven’t been for a while. I wish I was lying right now, I wish this could all be a joke and we could go on like we used to. God, you have no idea how much I wish things could go back to how they used to be, but I made a promise to myself that I would tell you the truth and so here it is. We broke up… I broke up with you.

At the time I thought it was the right thing, I thought it was the smart thing to do. I panicked. I got scared because everything was getting so serious and I had all these feelings and I didn’t know what to do. So I panicked and broke up with you and made the biggest mistake of my life. I messed up so badly, even as I did it I knew that, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself and once it was done I just felt… I felt empty. Namjoon hyung was furious with me, he stopped speaking to me, being in the same room with me, he completely cut me out of his life as much as possible for hurting you and I don’t blame him. Even the other members were angry with me, I mean they still spoke to me but I could tell that their opinion of me had changed.

To be honest, each day was a struggle. I knew I had messed up and I was hurting so bad, but I also knew it was probably nothing compared to how you felt so I suffered. The amount of times Namjoon hyung left the dorm or practices in a rush and didn’t come back until late or the next day I suffered even more because I knew he was leaving for you, I knew that those were the days you hurt the worst and on those days I hated myself even more.

I tried, I begged hyung to let me try and make things right, to try fix things with you but he wouldn’t let me. He was so so angry with me because he had trusted me with being with you, with loving you, and I blew it. I tried to speak to you but you had blocked and deleted my number. Eventually I borrowed Yoongi hyung’s new phone before he could use it and I tried again but it was no use. You told me about how you had waited for me to change my mind, you told me how difficult it had been for you, how many nights you cried yourself to sleep, how you stopped eating, how you wouldn’t leave the house, how many times Namjoon hyung had to stay with you to make sure you wouldn’t lose yourself, how he held you while you were physically sick, how he had to watch you fall apart when you tried to pack up my things or if someone mentioned my name and how he apologised over and over for letting this happen to you. You told me how I had crushed you and that you just wanted me to leave you alone. You told me that you were finally getting better, that you could finally sleep without waking up in tears, that you could function and not panic if someone said my name, and that if you went back to me all you would do is worry about when it would happen again. No matter how many promises I made or how many times I told you that I loved you, you had made up your mind and I honestly don’t blame you. You were trying to protect yourself and your heart, something I should have been doing, but you ended up needing to protect them from me.

No one knows this, and I’m not saying this to try garner your sympathy, but I never actually gave Yoongi hyung his phone back. He had figured out that I was the one to take his new phone and when he came to find me I was curled up on the bathroom floor where I had been for the past I don’t even know how many hours, crying my eyes out and dry heaving because hearing how much I had hurt you had made me physically be sick, but there was nothing left in me to get rid of anymore. I don’t remember much from the weeks following that, mostly because I hardly ate and exhausted myself, or I did eat but stayed in the studio until I dropped, or because I couldn’t even stand myself so I drank until everything was numb and passed out.

And then last night… last night I went drinking. I had found an old photograph of us together, one I didn’t think I even still had and I wanted… I don’t know what I wanted. To make the pain stop, to make the memories stop, to just make everything stop. So I got drunk and somehow found myself at your door.

When you answered your door I could tell you knew that you would find me on the other side, it’s not like I had been very quiet. But you looked scared, you looking so fucking terrified and it was only when I looked away from your face that I knew why. You weren’t alone. You answered the door in your underwear and a t-shirt. A t-shirt I knew because I had seen that same t-shirt in our dorm countless times because it belonged to Namjoon hyung.

I wasn’t stupid, I had figured that something had happened between the two of you. Even before last night, I knew. I had known he was in love with you since the one and only time I had spoken to him after I had broken up with you and asked to try work things out. The way he spoke about you and how much he protected you and cared for you, I knew. But until last night I could pretend all the signs leading up to it, Namjoon hyung leaving the house all dressed up as if going on a date, hyung smiling at his phone or talking on his phone for hours, I could pretend all of that was my imagination. And then I saw you… I saw you wearing his shirt and when I walked into your apartment and I saw your dress on the floor and I just snapped.

I don’t think I have even felt so enraged in my entire life. Hyung wasn’t in the room when I started yelling, and then I saw you on your phone probably messaging him while he was somewhere else in your apartment and that made me even angrier. I was in your living room, yelling at you and you were still trying to speak to him. I know what yelling does to you, I know how much it scares you and how it makes your anxiety even worse, but in that moment I didn’t care. All I wanted was for you to feel as hurt as I did, that I had to see the girl I still loved in my hyung’s clothes. My hyung that until that point, no matter what he said or did to me I still looked up to him and loved him. I could see you start to panic, I could tell the moment it happened, and I guess it was muscle memory or something from when we were together that I could tell you were having an attack and I immediately stopped yelling and moved to try calm you down but I wasn’t fast enough.

What the Doctor told you is partially true. You did have a panic attack and the hyperventilation from that along with the panic and anxiety you were feeling caused you to black out. You hit your head when you collapsed but the Doctor told me as we were leaving that you luckily don’t have a concussion. What he didn’t tell you was that the cause of all of this was not because you and I had a fight, it was because I was shouting and carrying on so much and scared you so badly that that’s what caused the panic attack and the chain of events that followed. I am the reason all of this happened to you.” Jungkook finally stopped long enough to breathe properly, not that it helped because he was full on sobbing.

You tried to take a deep breath to let everything he said sink in properly when you were stopped by your blocked nose. It was only then that you realised that you had been silently crying for who knows how long.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry for all the pain I caused you and for doing this to you. I know the Doctor said that the TGA will fade and everything will come back to you, but please understand I couldn’t let this chance slip away… I couldn’t let possibly my only chance to apologise for everything slip right through my fingers. You can hate me all you want after this, that’s fine because I hate me too. I was so scared when I saw you collapse and when the ambulance rushed you to hospital. Even as Jin hyung showed up to your apartment and lectured me as he drove me to the hospital too, I never stopped praying that you would be okay. I would’ve taken Jin hyung’s lectures and Yoongi hyung’s harsh words and Jiminie hyung and TaeTae hyung’s upset frowns a thousand times over for you to have just been okay. And you are… or you will be when the TGA fades. I will take the pain over knowing that you love Namjoon hyung, and the pain that Namjoon hyung physically inflicted when he punched me when he saw you had collapsed because you’re okay. You don’t have to forgive me, I haven’t forgiven me, but please… please know that I’m sorry I did any of this to you.

I’m sorry I broke up with you and broke your heart, I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner that I wanted to try fix things, I’m sorry for making you hurt again when you finally started moving on and feeling better, I’m sorry that I scared you so badly and was actually the cause of you having a panic attack and winding up in hospital instead of helping you through them like I promised you I would when you first told me about everything, but most of all I’m sorry for breaking my promise that I would never let anything hurt you yet I was the biggest thing that did. I love you, I always have and I always will and I will never stop being sorry and trying to make up for everything I did to you. I know that you love hyung and that he loves you… possibly more than I do. And I know that he will take care of you and never hurt you like I have and I’m okay with that. You deserve to be with someone like him and out of anyone, hyung is the most worthy of you. Like I said, you don’t have to forgive me, but please… please just know how sorry I am.”