A/N: haha, wouldn’t be me if I didn’t celebrate 1,000 followers with an angsty fic, just like my first ever one on here! I recommend listening to the finale of swan lake for added ✨pain✨
Timeline here is entirely made up, none of this probably happened except the ballet
To be perfectly honest, Y/N had no idea how her cousin had managed to rope her into helping him.
All she’d wanted to do was have a few drinks and watch the ballet with Lizzie.
Michael, however, had had a very different plan.
The people who’d cornered Michael on his way back from America had found him in Birmingham. They’d been stalking him and Gina for a few days but now they were at the house.
And with a significant grudge against her cousin.
Michael wanted to try and solve it all quietly, without Tommy or Arthur finding out, and had recruited Y/N as his, for lack of a better term, number two.
Y/N knew that Tommy and Arthur were bound to find out either way, but her nicer side won out.
Which was how Y/N found herself in a face off with two Americans in an old, forgotten corridor at the back of the house, only just able to hear the sound of the finale of the ballet
“I don’t like this,” Y/N muttered softly, nervously playing with the string of pearls around her neck. “Something feels off, Michael.”
Michael glanced at his cousin and then looked back at the two Americans who’d been talking to one another for almost five minutes. “If it all goes south, I’ll cover you, alright?”
Y/N sighed softly, dropping her hand away from her necklace and smoothing her dress. “Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”
She’d, for once, been looking forward to the event. Usually whenever Tommy organised a party it was to hide a dodgy deal or to try and sweet talk someone. Whilst Oswald Mosley was in attendance, the event was actually meant for Lizzie which meant Y/N could get away with staying with her sister-in-law and not have to socialise with random, creepy old men.
Lizzie had been the one to buy her the gorgeous, white satin, sleeveless dress. It’d been embroidered with diamonds in the shape of shooting stars and the material pooled at her feet - which, conveniently, meant Y/N could get away with taking her shoes off.
Y/N had spent almost all day curling her hair, setting the curls and making sure her long hair was perfectly set. She had putt a little feather along the parting of her hair - a nod to the ballet going on in the garden.
She’d always loved Swan Lake, even if it did have a depressing ending. It was a beautiful ballet and she’d listened to the score numerous times.
She should’ve been sat next to Tommy, watching the ballet.
In an old corridor, in the dark, with her cousin who - merely a week earlier - had pissed her off so much she hadn’t spoken to him until early that evening.
“Remind me again why I agreed to help you,”. Y/N muttered, hand returning to the pearls around her neck. “I’m still pissed about last week.”
Michael sighed. “Look, what happened last week wasn’t intentional, alright? We both said some things - “
“I seem to recall you being the one who said some things. I just stood there and took it,” Y/N replied, rocking back and forth on the heels of her shoes she’d shoved her feet in to and hadn’t bothered to buckle up.
“What is your problem?” Michael asked, his tone suddenly turning brash and cold as he looked down at her.
He was only a few inches taller than her but it didn’t help the fact it was still intimidating being looked down at by a man.
“Maybe something to do with the fact you fucked off to America and didn’t once send me a letter, postcard nor did you try to phone me,” Y/N snapped, trying to keep her voice low.
“About fucking work, Michael. That doesn’t count because you spoke to everyone about that. You didn’t once ask me how i was or what i was doing. I wrote to you, a lot, and not once did I get a reply.” Y/N exhaled softly, shoulders slumping slightly. “You got married without even telling me and it hurts, Michael because I consider you more my family than Tom-“
“Alright,” an American voice said suddenly, cutting Y/N off. “We’ve decided.”
Michael looked up at them and raised an eyebrow. “And? Will you accept the offer?”
The American sighed, sucking on their teeth. “See, your offer, Mr Gray, just doesn’t seem as if it benefits us very well.”
“Whilst the offer is… flattering. It doesn’t look as if it will benefit us in the long run. We have a lot of powerful people around us who could make things difficult and… well, we’d like to avoid that.”
Michael sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he crossed his arms, evidently impatient. “Well, I have nothing else to offer. That’s it.”
The American shrugged. “We guessed as much, Mr Gray.” They sighed, tapping their foot on the ground. It’s such a shame our ‘partnership’ has to end like this.”
The gun shot cracked through the air before either Michael or Y/N could register it.
Y/N looked down at her stomach and saw the blood beginning to spread across her dress. She looked up at Michael as she fell backwards, her cousin barely catching her before she hit the floor.
By the time Y/N had registered what had happened, and why she was looking up at the ceiling, the two Americans had vanished and Michael was looking down at her, eyes wide in horror.
“No, no, Y/N, hey, stay with me,” Michael said, shaking her slightly as she blinked and her eyes stayed closed for a fraction too long.
Michael pulled his jacket off and put it on top of the bullet wound, pressing down hard. He was crying and panicking as he tried to work out what to do.
Y/N couldn’t talk. She was gasping for breath, choking slightly on the blood in her mouth that was staining her lips. Her perfect dress was stained red with blood, the stain growing and growing.
“Stay with me, alright,” Michael repeated, shifting his leg so that it was under Y/N’s back, supporting her up slightly. “Y/N, just, keep your eyes open. Help’s coming, okay? Please, please, just stay with me,” Michael repeated, tightening his grip on her as her skin paled and her gasping quietened down.
Y/N blinked sluggishly as Michael’s face swam in and out of focus. It was getting harder to stay awake and all she wanted to do was close her eyes.
“Y/N?” Michael said softly as her head fell to the side, her hand slipping out of his blood-soaked one. “Y/N/N?”
Y/N’s body relaxed as she exhaled softly and her chest stopped moving.
“Y/N? Y/N, no, come on. Y/N? Y/N!” Michael yelled. He held his cousin close to him, her blood staining his pristine white shirt, his tears falling into her hair.
Somewhere, far, far away, the ballet ended as Odette died, a red ribbon being pulled out from underneath the dancer to represent her blood.
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