Chapter Text
CHAPTER 4 : Life feels so monotone, but I still keep hoping
29th March continued…
Jamie looked down at his softening cock as he pulled out, still spilling everywhere out of the front of his destroyed tights, not sure that even with his jock strap back in place the leather flap that was a poor excuse for a skirt would actually manage to contain anything of what they’d just done, let alone conceal it.
“Fuck me,” he breathed it out between heaving breaths, hardly even registering the words actually leaving his mouth, lips tasting the salt of the skin where his face pressed again, panting into the crook of Roy’s neck, breathing deep, cheek flat against his shoulder, hands idle, still gripping the flesh at his hips, he had not expected that, he had not expected that…
“I’ll need at least 5 minutes,”
Roy’s words startled a laugh out of him, he could hear the smile in his voice as he turned in his arms, feeling Roy’s heavy eyes on him and looked back up, meeting them steadily, seeing his own questions reflected back at him,
“Hey…” Jamie didn’t even have to try to put on his breathy voice that belonged to someone else this time, still breathless as he was,
“Hey.” And why did Roy’s voice sound at least two octaves lower than usual? My god.
“That was… something else,”
“Sure was.”
“I wasn’t expecting… you to…”
Roy closed in on him again and hungrily licked into his mouth, “Beg for your cock?”
Jamie laughed, incredulous and delighted at Roy’s candid response, eyes falling closed with a filthy groan as Roy’s hands fell to his bare arse and squeezed, parting his cheeks enough to make Jamie’s breath hitch with anticipation as the air hit his most heated centre, a wave of desire washing over him, cock twitching again between them, Roy smirked, pressing his own against it, pulling him closer, fucking hell,
“I… yeah…” he managed to gasp out as Roy trailed the fingers of one hand down into the depths of his crevice, hips bucking involuntarily as Roy thumbed at the crease of his groin with his other, squeezing again, fingertips tracing suggestively close, he clenched, an invitation, next time next time next time his body making a promise that even then he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep. Couldn’t keep. Shouldn’t keep.
“Yeah, well, I’m secure enough to admit to what I like,” Roy stared into Jamie’s eyes the entire time, pupils blown wide, both of them knowing it was a total lie in his real life, interesting what you can admit to strangers in a pretend life though… ha, ‘strangers’…
“When I actually get to do something about it that is…” Roy shrugged, “Not often I get the opportunity…”
Of course, of course you don’t… Jamie nodded, holding his breath for some reason he didn’t understand as Roy nosed along his jaw, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath against his skin before his lips mouthed his next words into the shell of his ear,
“I thought you might be, willing, you know, to indulge me…”
“I’ll indulge you any time you fucking want...” Jamie breathed back, barely managing a whisper, lips skirting over Roy’s ear as he nodded even more, in absolute reverence, oh my god any fucking time Roy fuck sake, what a gift, what a fucking treat… he ghosted his lips over Roy’s now, hands eager again each side of his face, trembling, holding him there, not wanting the moment to end,
“…it would be my fucking pleasure.” he was vaguely aware he was maybe giving way too much of himself away for a mere stranger Roy supposedly just met in a club, “Thank you for trusting me…” he whispered it into his mouth, tongues lazily dancing, before pulling away with a happy sigh, arms snaking around each other as though snuggling in bed after sex, both resting their heads on each others shoulders as they clung on, just breathing, neither ready to let go just yet, to break the bubble.
Jamie’s eyes traced the crude graffiti on the wall behind Roy, and he mentally added his own score to the tally in both the TOP and the BOTTOM columns, feeling the need to reveal something suddenly, “I don’t often get the opportunity either, and if I do, I don’t get, you know, an option.”
Why was he stuttering? He was realising in that moment that suddenly he wanted to tell Roy everything all at once but also simultaneously understanding deep in his bones that Roy would hate him forever to his very core if he discovered who he was, after what he just let him do.
Roy’s brow furrowed at that, as he faltered, kissing him again to wipe his face free of whatever he saw there, hungry again, filthy. There, that’s better.
Roy’s mind inadvertently cast itself back to the last time he let someone fuck him, five long bloody years ago now, he hadn’t found he had the… time maybe, definitely since Phoebe was born, but also the inclination quite the same, to go through the whole rigamarole, not since… since that last time was so monumental and he didn’t want anything to taint the memory of it… and then Jamie happened again, for real, and at least that time Jamie knew about it.
And now there was this glorious creation in front of him, currently staring into his soul. This was one way to try getting over Jamie, at least? He definitely wouldn’t mind trying again… and again and again and again… but he didn’t know if he had the guts to ask for that quite yet? But the night was still young…
He didn’t fucking plan this, that’s for sure, in fact, he was dragged here against his will and under false pretences, thinking Maureen was having a hard time and needed to let off some steam, but in fact the whole thing had been for his benefit, a ruse to try and break him out of his Jamie related funk. And here he was. And he was so overcome with gratitude to those meddling old biddies, he needed to go hug them immediately.
“See you back out there?”
Yes yes yes yes yes yes… Jamie’s heart thudded in his chest at how hopeful Roy sounded in that moment, how hesitant, although he clearly tried to play it off, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Roy smiled at that, a beautiful thing, but as the words left Jamie’s lips he knew already they could never be.
He kissed him again, everything going into it, the longing, the pent up desire that he’d never be able to feed, not truly. Stolen moments like this that Roy didn’t even know about? He could never confide in him, never remind him, never share the memory of this night with him, snuggles on a sofa somewhere in years to come remembering how they got together for real… no, of course not, don’t be so silly Jamie, he was well aware this was a secret he’d be taking to the grave and if this was goodbye then it had to be goodbye. If he went back out there he knew he’d latch on to Roy and never let him go, delusions fuelling him into following Roy wherever he asked him to go and he’d be spilling his fucking feelings to him in the morning on sheets that weren’t his own again and Roy would realise who he was waking up next to.
No. No. He had enough regrets already about the last time that happened and look where that left him. He couldn’t bear to live through a rejection like that again. Because last time Roy knew it was him. He knew it was him and he never said a word about it afterwards, still not a peep since. No matter what Maureen said.
No. He knew this could never be.
“You go first, I just need to…” he gestured below at himself, “…make myself decent somehow…”
“Good luck with that,” Roy smirked against his lips and then he was gone, and Jamie sagged back against the door as it closed behind him.
Roy walked out of that cubicle with his head in the clouds and Jamie walked out with his head in his hands and immediately into the backstage room where he’d dumped his stuff with the performing queens lockers, he grabbed his phone with shaking hands and text Max, and next minute he was out the door, into the street, and into a cab. There was also the fact that he just couldn’t go back out there looking like this. Not that Roy hadn’t looked deliciously ravished himself but Jamie took one look in the mirror and he was thoroughly debauched and unravelled. In the best possible way but still. Even the cabbie had questioned him you alright love? when he sank into the back. Max had done an impeccable job on his face, of course, but no amount of setting powder could contend with Roy’s beard rubbing itself all over him.
Jamie already knew what a bad idea it was and knew he should never have started anything, and then when it did he should’ve put a stop to anything going further, but he also just possibly had his whole world turned upside down, hearing what Maureen said about Roy being so miserable since the boy at work left… he’d been thinking for all that time that Roy hated him and then to hear that he actually didn’t, after all?
Like what the actual fuck, Roy?
His mind was all over the place and so he’d let himself get caught up in the fantasy and the daydream of it all, like what could actually happen if it was true? He allowed himself to regress back to his old daydreams of meeting Roy for the first time at Richmond and how he’d always dreamt it would go actually happening, imagined himself and Roy meeting again now and it all being different, after everything.
He imagined telling him tonight who he really was, right from the start, but the fact he was in drag he knew all too well could result in a boot to the face from unexpected sources, he’d heard from Max countless times how something about a man in a dress really brought out the evil in some people, especially if it turned out not to be true that Maureen meant him after all. That they meant Roy had been moping and sad about some other random boy leaving work. Ha.
But it definitely had seemed Roy was not only completely unbothered about getting off with someone in drag but in fact extremely excited about it and up for it… so they’d been staring at each other on the dance floor and he thought fuck it maybe he’d go with the flow and see where tonight took him? And then it did take him there, exactly where he wanted it to go. Incredible. Unbelievable. But now what?
Now nothing.
The possibility of Roy reacting badly in the cold harsh light of day, or a bright late night brasserie, when even Max’s impeccable paint job has started to wear thin against the stubbornness of Jamie’s beard starting to grow back… he couldn’t bear to think about it. It was all he could think about. So he scarpered. Roy would thank him later. Not that he would ever know. Oh Jamie.
“Thanks mate.” He didn’t need to bother trying to cover up Deirdre Barlow this time as he paid the driver and climbed clumsily out of the cab, completely falling apart the second the door closed on him in a deserted side street in Chiswick in the middle of the night.
His phone buzzed in his hand as he was climbing the front steps back at Max’s,
“I’ll be there in 10.”
*
Roy could not stop thinking about his latest obsession, but he didn’t even know his fucking drag name let alone his fucking real one, Tah-Dah? TuhTah-TuhTah?
He’d had the most incredible night. Truly truly incredible. Maybe the yoga mums were right all along and he just needed to get back out there? He thought he was past all that, left that way of life behind, but he realised he was never going to let himself get over Jamie by sitting around moping all day and he was never going to meet anyone else to spend the rest of his life with unless he actually got out there and met people.
But then it all went to shit and he didn’t know what happened? One minute he was getting his brains fucked out, with the promise of the rest of the night still ahead, next he was leaving to go splash water on his face and leave fucking Tahdah to rearrange himself back inside his tights under his ridiculously tiny skirt so he was decent enough to re-emerge back into public view.
Then, he went back out into the club and was immediately cornered by Brioche, who gave him a very obvious once over, all critical scrutiny, before seeming to come to a decision to give him, permission perhaps? To make this a thing? Sure seemed that way? There was something being said there anyway, he was sure of it.
Well at the time he was… or was he just still preoccupied looking back over his shoulder, expecting Tahdah to emerge at any second and also be cornered by Bri up there too before he came back downstairs into the main club…
Then he lost track of everything that happened next as like a whirlwind the second he returned to the knowing looks of the yoga mums he was swept up in a chaos of questioning before the talk of crepes resumed that had been happening when he reappeared.
Roy kept looking back, waiting as long as he could, but he never saw him come down the stairs. Maureen reassured him that they were going with Brioche and Tahdah’s friends closer to where they work so they’d know where to find them, but neither of them ever turned up, and Roy sat there like a plum alone in his head feeling like a fucking idiot, knowing he was the target of pitying glances from every direction, hearing phones buzzing, the other queens obviously becoming aware of circumstances he wasn’t privy to and soon realised they weren’t coming after all.
Maybe something happened to him when he got out the cubicle? Maybe he’d ripped his skirt and his tights so much he couldn’t contain his cock enough to be decent enough to be seen in public other than the darkness of a heaving club? (…this was definitely what happened, no one told Roy but Paul told Janice that Max had told him that Tarte had had a wardrobe malfunction, but Janice didn’t offer up that little nugget of wisdom until they were in the cab on the way home, apparently she assumed someone else would’ve filled him in, and then they all made jokes at his expense about filling him in, until they realised he wasn’t laughing along…) So Roy remained completely in the dark about it and of course had absolutely no way of finding out… (if only Roy had thought to just open his mouth and use his words, he could’ve asked all his friends who were sitting right there… just stop overthinking it man, get out of your own way.) But instead, Roy just sat there, with his arse raw and his plate of fresh berries, feeling gutted beyond words.
*
“Roy, love,”
Janice’s small hand wound its way under his to curl around him in the back of the taxi home, patting him lovingly, trying to get his attention and distract him, lost as he was, staring out the window at the lights whizzing by, (…as they negotiated the Hogarth Roundabout he had no idea that Tarte was mere minutes away, tucked up in the corner of a settee in Church Street with his face buried in Max’s armpit as he cried himself empty,)
“Roy, what happened, love?”
Roy shrugged. What more could he do? He had nothing to say. He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know.
“It seemed like you were getting on so well?”
“More than just well, by the looks?”
“Once you finally found the nerve to actually go over there that is,”
“You were practically devouring each other on that dance floor upstairs!”
“Were you fucking spying on me or some shit?”
“Course we were! Bloody hell love it took two bloody hours to convince you, all that build up, had to check all our hard work had paid off!”
“Convince me? Fucking threats and violence and blackmail from Maureen was what did it. I was quite fucking happy wallowing and observing from a distance thank you very much.”
“Was it not worth it after all then, love?”
“It was, it was worth it.” he sighed, “At least, I thought it was.” Hands were reaching out to console him from all directions at that, and he ended up facing them all as they sat with joined hands in some kind of fucking kumbayah circle in a way only the back of a black cab can provide, Janice with her arm still linked through his as she jostled him into her side and the cacophony of comfort and unsolicited mum advice came thick and fast as everyone spoke at once...
“Well. We all know what you need to do then.”
“You need to go back.”
“Find him.”
“I overheard Paul call Brioche ’Max’, we find Max, we find your man!”
“Who the fuck is Paul?”
“That absolutely stunningly gorgeous one…”
“…oh yes had me questioning my sexuality Roy, honestly, if I was 50 years younger I’d give her one…”
“Maureen!”
“Oh, Bree’s performing next week at something called Heavenly Bodies!”
“Oh it’s ‘Bree’ now is it?”
“I’m googling it now, you have to go, Roy!”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“I overheard it!”
“Oh look it’s not at Heaven after all, it’s practically next door to Balans, Roy you can try the chocolate crepes next time then sooner than you thought,”
“Oh look there’s a list of their upcoming shows…”
“Is that Bree there? Oh my goodness… would you look at her…”
“Stunning.”
“I wonder what she looks like as a boy?”
“Equally as stunning I’m sure.”
“I’d give her one too, I would. Or him, not fussed either way.”
“Maureen!”
“Fuck sake!”
He rolled his eyes. He loved this incredibly bossy and annoying, gossipy, nosy, interfering as fuck bunch of old girls as much as he loved his own mum. (Probably more, if you considered the fact he’d never sit rating the bodies of the blokes on each new season of Lust Conquers All with his own mum and he’d rather die than let on to her that he was off to suck a cock in the bogs so she better have another sambuca ready for him to coat his used throat when he gets back... plus he didn’t think any of them would’ve ever dreamed of sending him away at age 9 to the other end of the country, not that he held a grudge or anything… much.)
“Fine. I’ll go. Happy now?”
A chorus of cheers rang out in delight, turning to all-knowing cackles as he rolled his eyes even harder with a huff, “…and no, you’re not fucking coming with me.”
*
April 2020
He couldn’t find him. Not for lack of trying. Roy had been back to G-A-Y numerous times, he’d gone to the club nights and the drag shows and the bar on Old Compton Street. He’d asked around. Bit hard to ask for someone when you don’t even know who you’re asking for though. He realised it was a bit much to expect to just waltz in and find him standing there in front of him like he’d done last time, so he finally found the courage to ask about Brioche, about Max. Someone finally told him he should try the Max over at Freedom. See if it was the right Max. And it was. So he found Brioche. He looked her up on Insta, no sign of her mesmerising friend on there with her anywhere though, though he did remember them all saying it was just a birthday dress up, maybe he needed to start looking for the face of the man underneath the mask, and not the face he’d known that night? He hadn’t thought of that. Where did he even begin? So he googled Max’s drag shows and he went along. He was terrified. She was incredible, stunning, so fucking intimidating that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, but also couldn’t make his feet move close enough to find the answers he was looking for. It’s not that he didn’t have the guts to actually go and ask her the questions. Don’t be a dick, that’s stupid. (Maybe he should’ve let Janice come along after all? She’d have cut to the chase.)
Eventually he gave up. He’d allowed himself to get his hopes up, only to be dashed all over again. He should’ve fucking known, really, shouldn’t he? It was stupid to think it could’ve been any other way, what was he thinking?? What did he really think was going to happen if he found him? Apart from spectacular sex? So he stopped thinking about it. Filed it away in the ‘really fucking nice things that happened that one time’ file and closed the tab.
Instead, his mind was turning more and more to Jamie fucking Tartt again. Or returning, more like. Not like he ever went very long without him in there. And even in his absence he was all Roy could think about. He was worrying about him, stuck back home in way too close proximity to his arsehole father, wanting to reach out to see if he was ok but not having the fucking balls, but also thinking it was probably for the best if he didn’t. He needed to move on. He’d been stuck on him for long enough and he’d thought maybe that their last moments together would’ve got him out of his system, but it hadn’t worked. It was worse now.
He watched his City matches on replay religiously every week, ever so thankful for his ridiculously self indulgent massively oversized telly, scoured the sports sites and socials for even the slightest hint of info about him, no not like that, not like a fucking stalker fanboy, he was checking for injuries, for hospital visits, for signs of beatings, signs of his dad…
And now he was finally going to get to see him again, in the flesh, and he just didn’t know what to do. He just wanted to see if he was ok. And he thought maybe he should ask Keeley. She’d know, right? They were still close? Close enough for him to pop by when he was in town and for her to try it on with him at least. So yeah, sue him, maybe he wanted to pop by there too, see if she had any info, any insider knowledge? (No, he didn’t want to just fucking hopefully be there if and when Jamie also happened to pop by, don’t be so fucking stupid.)
He didn’t know how much she knew, if anything, about Jamie’s relationship with his dad, he knew he kept it pretty close to his chest, for obvious reasons. He didn’t want anyone to know. Said it made him look soft, like a weak little baby. And Roy knew that Jamie hadn’t wanted him to know either, he’d practically bullied it out of him, after watching Jamie be so desperate to hide the truth that he’d taken a mouthful from Ted in front of everyone about skiving and punishment duties for not training and not said a peep rather than own up to his injuries and that his dad was the one to give them to him. Roy felt sick with it. The worry wasn’t in the back of his mind any more, it was sitting heavy in his gut, and the closer he got to the match, to seeing Jamie again, even if it was only on the pitch, the closer he got to taking action of some kind. Problem was, he just didn’t know what to do.
But before it even got as far as the match, he found himself thinking that maybe he needed to speak to Ted. Everyone seemed to be trying to nudge him towards Keeley, giving him a wink and a smirk whenever she was around and he didn’t get it. He had no idea why everyone was doing that. He didn’t even know why or what he wanted to say. Maybe he just wanted to find out if Ted actually had seen anything out on the grass that night at the curse fire? Maybe? Or maybe he just needed to know if someone else thought he was really being as unreasonable as Keeley seemed to think?
“Hi Roy, anything I can help you with there buddy?”
Roy just grunted, what the fuck was he even doing here? This was stupid. He turned to leave.
“Something on your mind?”
Roy paused, he had nothing, another grunt.
“Is that grunt all I get to go on?”
Yes. Roy’s mouth was trying to formulate the shape of the words but his brain hadn’t provided them yet.
“How do you tell someone you’re not trying to get with them and you’re just being friendly, not flirty?”
“Huh?”
“Keeley. She thought I was coming home with her back at the hotel the other night, as in, ‘coming home with her’, yeah?”
“Oh boy,”
“Yeah. But I didn’t know she thought that, how was I supposed to know she thought that? I’m not a fucking mind reader! I was just walking her home safe from the bar, right? ‘Cos no one else except me was going back to the hotel yet? But turns out she was only going back to the hotel ‘cos she thought I was ‘taking her home’!”
“Uh oh,”
“You got that right. And apparently if I hadn’t led her on into thinking I was fucking taking her home, then she apparently would’ve gone on a proper girly night out with Sassy and Rebecca instead of getting sloshed by herself in her room because I made her sad, which I only just found out!”
“Whoah, well that’s a story and a half right there now…”
“There’s more! ‘Cos when we got to her room yeah, I’m still oblivious, and then out of nowhere she fucking kissed me! And I was so shocked I even kissed her back at first! And I said thank you because it’s polite, yeah?”
“Very polite, Roy, very nice manners you have there,”
“I know, that’s what I thought! But I didn’t want to take it any further than that, fucking obviously, especially not into her suite that she was sharing with my fucking boss right?”
“Right, yeah I get that for sure Roy,”
“…and I don’t think I did anything to lead her on for her to get that impression, yeah?”
“Wait, what exactly do you mean by ‘obviously’?”
“Huh?”
“You said you didn’t wanna take it further than that obviously, why obviously? Am I missing something here? She’s a lovely lady, Roy, and clearly interested in taking it further with you, so what’s the problem?”
“Right. Well. Uhh...” Roy found he didn’t know how to answer that, he hadn’t meant to say that, not like that, he hadn’t meant anything by it, well he had, and he knew what he meant, obviously, but he hadn’t meant for Ted to pick up on it, so he ignored it completely and forged ahead, “But then she asked me to go for coffee and I was busy, so I said I was busy.”
“Well sounds to me like you were being honest? And honesty is the best policy, am I right or am I right?”
Oh the irony right there…
“That’s what I thought! But apparently that was the wrong thing to do because then she got shitty with me about it and tried to sleep with Jamie fucking Tartt as punishment for something I didn’t even know I’d done!”
“Wait, she tried to sleep with Jamie?”
“Yeah.”
“But I thought, wait… and he said no?”
“Apparently he was busy too.”
Roy had no idea what Jamie was busy with but something in him fucking swelled with elation to hear that Jamie had turned Keeley down. And he did want to know why, he couldn’t help it, he didn’t like how things were left between them. Maybe he should’ve text him. Maybe he still could. He had to see him soon when they played each other, because that’s what’s really bothering him, really, wasn’t it, that’s why he’s standing here right now, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, maybe he really should do it before then, maybe he could ask if Jamie wants to meet up? Clear the air? Start again? Carry on where they left off? He really liked where it had been headed…
“Wow. I did not see that one coming.”
“Yeah. Well neither did she.”
“Oh boy oh boy.”
“Right?! But here’s the thing. Every time I think about her, all I think about is Jamie fucking Tartt. Prince prick of all pricks and I’ve got him stuck right in here,” he jabbed his finger, hard, into his temple.
“Whoah! Don’t do yourself a mischief there now Roy! And so… wait…” Ted tilted his head and swivelled his whole body towards him, “…what are you saying, that there’s just not the same kind of space in there for her, while he’s, also, in there?”
Roy thought about it. “…yeah?” He thought about it some more. “No.”
“No?”
“No. He’s not also there, he’s just there by himself. Taking up all the fucking space.”
“I see…”
And Roy thinks Ted does see. He thinks he saw it that night, the last time they were together, on the grass outside at the curse fire. He vaguely remembered Ted marching past at one point…
“Well Roy, all I can say is, don’t let her past muck around with y’all’s future, ok?”
Aaaand maybe he doesn’t. He doesn’t get it at all.
“I don’t wanna fucking get with her Ted you obtuse fucking triangle, I just don’t wanna piss her off.”
“Oh! Ok now! Right. I think I get it now.” Ted huffed out a laugh, hands up placatingly,
“Never fucking mind.” Now Roy was even more sure that he didn’t get it, he just glared, before turning to walk away. Maybe it was for the best. But then Ted seemed to have some kind of epiphany, though Roy still wasn’t convinced it was the right one, or if he even wanted him to have it after all.
“Ohhh, oh, ok. Well…” he shook his head a little and let out a whistle, “Oh boy. I guess the best you can do Roy is be honest, I know she’d appreciate that much at least.”
“I’ve been honest the whole time and it’s done nothing but get me in trouble!”
“Well I guess some folks can’t handle it if the honesty in question is something they’re maybe not ready for? Or not expecting to hear?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Roy paused, “Do you think I should text Jamie? Before the City match?”
“Wait, what?”
“Never fucking mind.”
*
*
*
A few weeks later, 16th MAY 2020
The mental storm going on outside was nothing compared to the one that had been going through Roy’s head for the last few days, but this morning it was worse than ever. The weekend he’d been waiting for was finally here. He had to face City which meant he had to face Jamie which meant he had to face his feelings and his actions, and he wanted it more than anything in the world but despite the huge build up and anticipation he wasn’t fucking ready. Perhaps precisely because of the huge build up and anticipation?
But he needed to see him. But he was worried what would happen if he did. Would he just be a prick to Jamie on sight, like he was when he first arrived at Richmond? Or would he pull his head in and treat him the way he deserved? But then how would he explain the radio silence since he woke up with him gone from his bed after the curse fire? Fuck. Maybe he should text him? Should he text him? Would it look weird if he did it now out of nowhere when he hadn’t done it already? Was it better late than never? Fuck! He just didn’t know!
That’s how he found himself stood on Keeley’s doorstep. He had no idea how long he stood there before a huge clap of thunder broke him from his reverie and he finally found his fingers on the doorbell.
Nothing.
Maybe it was a sign? Maybe he should go? He tried again…
Thunder broke overhead and the skies opened in a roaring torrent and Keeley had to turn up the volume on her telly three times so she could hear what was happening on Bake Off as the rain lashed against her windows, they were just about to announce Star Baker for fucks sake, she was invested to the point she almost didn’t hear her doorbell ring out at first, wait, had she Deliveroo’d something without remembering? Bake Off always did make her hungry, and who the fuck else would be mad enough to be out there in this weather?
“Roy?? What are you doing here?”
Her eyes nearly fell out of her head, water was streaming down his face and his hair was plastered down flat, how long had he been out here? Her heart started beating faster in a panic when she clocked the distraught look on his face,
“You wanna come in? Let me get you a towel…” at the shake of his head she leant forward and grabbed his arm,
“You’re being an idiot and you’re letting in all the cold, you’re soaked, get in here.” She slammed the door behind him and stood him in place, “Wait right there,”
She ran upstairs to get a pile of towels, throwing them at him as she took one to drape over his head, “What the fuck is going on with you? Come in and get dry by the fire, I’ll put the kettle on,”
“I need to ask you about something first.” He was rooted to the spot, acting even more weird than usual as he dripped a puddle in her entryway, holding the towels limply by his side.
“Can you ask me in front of the fire? I’m cold just looking at you. Actually… is it going to take long?”
“What? No? Maybe? I don’t know! I’ll try not to take up too much of your precious time?”
“No! It’s not that! Just, don’t want you catching your death in here, all the papers full of headlines when they wheel your body out about how Cold Killer Keeley wouldn’t Defrost Dead Drowned Rat Roy or whatever, you know what they’re like!”
“What the fuck are you saying?”
She tutted, “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? You look like a madman Roy! Right,” she steered him up the hall to the downstairs bathroom, “Get in that shower right now and I’ll find you something dry to wear and put the kettle on, then we can have this super important chat that’s clearly fucking up your ability to use your brain right now, in front of the fire with a cuppa so you can defrost, how’s that sound?”
“Right.” Ok so now she mentioned it Roy maybe was freezing his bollocks off, just a tad, “Yeah, ok.”
“God I forgot how articulate you are. Put your wet clothes in the machine with the towels when you’re done.”
She slammed the door a little harder than she intended, grumbling about bloody idiot men as she stormed upstairs to see if any of her minuscule clothing would fit Roy. All she found that would even remotely work was the bright pink Versace wrap around dressing gown Jamie had bought her, and the fluffy pink throw blanket from the end of her bed. Well, needs must and all that, he’ll just have to deal. Shouldn’t have got himself in such a state.
.
Roy came out ten minutes later, pink fluffy blanket wrapped around his waist and resplendent in her gown, she couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, not at his expense but the look on his face. Nodding at the armchair nearest the fire, she handed him his tea and threw the other blanket from the back of the sofa over his bare feet.
“Ok, so…“ she tucked her legs up under her in her corner of the sofa and held her mug tightly in both hands, steeling herself, “What is it then?”
But Roy found he didn’t have any words. Now he was finally here, inside, with the perfect opportunity to ask his questions, nope, nada, nothing was coming. He sat some more. He tried to reformulate what he wanted to say, because all his brain seemed to want to do was scream out that he was worried about Jamie but he wasn’t ready to let her know that yet. So he sat.
Eventually, Keeley seemed to realise that nothing was going to be forthcoming any time soon, so she put her empty mug down on the coffee table and swapped it for the remote, eyes carefully assessing the complete lack of reaction from Roy, “Mind if I put Bake Off back on then, if you’re not ready to let me in on the big secret of whatever’s going on in your brain? They’re just about to taste the pineapple upside down cakes.”
Roy seemed to snap out of it, nodding a bit shamefaced, “Sorry…” he stared at the screen, “Oh fuck yes, The Professionals.”
“Yeah, I’m well into it!”
“You going for the Italians at that shitty eyesore hotel that looks like a bowling ball or the Welsh French?”
“What! Neither! I’m going for Clanny and Ryan from The Ivy!”
“Same.”
They knuckled down to the serious business of mini patisserie favourites and agreeing on a love of Tom Allen, passing enough time for Roy to finally unclench and defrost, swapping his clothes over to the dryer and Keeley putting the kettle on again and pulling out some biscuits,
“All that talk of cakes had me hankering Roy so these are a bit disappointing after all that,”
“Can’t beat a Hobnob Keeley.”
“Not for dunking at any rate,” she laughed as he literally shoved the entire biscuit in his mouth after an over exuberant dunk nearly lost him the lot at the bottom of his cup,
“Jamie.”
“What?!”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, right, well can’t say I was expecting that.”
“Neither was I, but here I am anyway.”
“What about him?”
“Wait. Are you still mad at me?”
“What? No! I was never mad at you!”
“Yes you were, said I was leading you on and shit?”
“Oh right, yeah, well, no, it’s fine, all good, yeah?” She shrugged, “Don’t worry Roy, I got the hint.” Her tea was still way too hot, but she took a sip anyway, defiant.
“Right.” Roy looked both suitably chastised and mystified, looking down at the steam still circling from his own mug.
“Spit it out then Roy-o, what is it about Jamie that’s got your knickers all in a twist this time?”
The fact that he didn’t even bite back at that and just sat staring into his mug had her concerned,
“Do you still see him?”
“Huh? What the fuck Roy? Is that what’s been bothering you? You think because of what I told you to try make you jealous that I’m still trying to get with him or something?”
“What? No! Nothing like that!” Now it was Roy’s turn to be confused, his brain so far from that particular conversation he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about at first. “No, I literally just wanted to know if you still keep in touch, because I’m worried about him and I wanted to know if he’s ok?”
Keeley stared at him like he either spoke Swahili or said the most unexpected thing she’d ever heard… which, ok actually, yeah, Roy got why she might think that.
“You’re worried about him? You? Roy Kent? Worried about Jamie Tartt?”
“Yes.” He ground out through his teeth, fuck, he was beginning to wish he was anywhere but here right now.
“Well if you’re so worried about him why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I don’t want him to fucking know I’m worried about him!”
“What? Roy I’m so confused right now, you’re not making any sense.”
“Never fucking mind.” Roy went to stand, cocooned in his blankets as he was, remembering his clothes were still in the dryer, so he sat back down heavily and picked up his tea again, “Fuck.”
Keeley was watching him with concern now and was beginning to realise there was more to this than Roy was letting on, “What’s going on Roy?”
“Look.” he faltered, took a huge gulp of his tea and swallowed before he found the words to even begin to explain, but knew he shouldn’t be telling Jamie’s personal business to anyone, but he thought Jamie may have already confided in her about his dad when they were together and he really was concerned enough that he needed to know if she’s heard anything, but deciding to be deliberately vague but specifically direct at the same time,
“Right, have you heard from him, and if so, is he ok? Has he been ok? Is he coping ok up there? Has he mentioned any injuries to you?”
“Whoah, ok…” Keeley was baffled, Roy was not making a lick of sense to her, but it was nice he seemed to suddenly give a shit about Jamie’s welfare? “So, yes, I’ve heard from him, we chat, but it’s just frivolous, nothing deep, but he seems fine, no he hasn’t mentioned any injuries, why?? This is actually worrying me a bit now Roy!”
“Do you think he’d tell you if he was hurt?”
Keeley stared at him hard for a second, “Are you just trying to find out if there are any weak spots in City’s offence for the match tomorrow?”
Roy stared back at her, incredulous, mug paused half way to his mouth, he was actually hurt by that, “Do you really think that low of me?”
“Well I don’t know, do I?! Last I saw of the pair of you Roy you were at each other’s throats! Thought you’d be glad to see the back of him!”
“Last you saw, actually Keeley, I was showing his cracker of a goal to Gail on my phone, does that look like the behaviour of someone glad to see the back of him?”
“Well how am I supposed to know what your tactics are?”
“Tactics. Right.”
“Look, last I heard from him yeah, he came round when he was down here for a match to tell me about… well, a big night out he had planned but was worried about it cos it was… a big one… even for him, it was something different that he hadn’t done before, and he did actually mention his dad, come to think of it, but, well I didn’t take it literally…”
“Take what literally?”
“Oh it was just Jamie being overdramatic you know, said how his dad was just everywhere at the moment and he couldn’t escape him? And that if his dad found out about… that particular night out he was telling me about… er, that his life would literally be over and he wasn’t sure he should do it…?”
Something must’ve been showing on Roy’s face the further she got into the story because suddenly she broke off,
“Wait, Roy was he being serious?”
“Well yeah, sounds like it?”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. Why do you never think people are being serious?”
“What?!”
“You didn’t believe me either, when I said I was busy!”
“Well how was I supposed to know that?”
“I dunno Keeley, maybe because I said it? Did you think I was fucking lying?”
“No! Well, yes, maybe? Because you didn’t say what it was you were busy with!”
“It was private! It’s not like we were together or anything, we hardly know each other, I didn’t owe you any explanation for what I was doing or where I was going, or who I was going with! You don’t even know them anyway!”
“No, no you’re right. I’m sorry Roy. I realise now that was very unfair of me. I just thought you were seeing other people and it’s ok if you are, just that I thought I deserved to know so I didn’t look stupid!”
“But I wasn’t even seeing you! So how would you look stupid if someone you weren’t even seeing was seeing other people?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Yeah, I suppose.”
Why did Keeley look so completely shocked at that?
“And not that it’s any of your business but I’m not fucking ashamed, so for full transparency it was yoga. I go to yoga with a group of women in their 60’s, they have no idea who I am, it’s twice a week and it’s really good for my core. Normally it only takes an hour but Maureen’s been going through a divorce and she needed to talk about it and blow off some steam. We all ended up at G-A-Y til 2am then we had crepes in Balans with some drag queens. Like I said, it’s fucking private.”
“G-A-Y??”
“Yes. Fucking say something.”
“Oh. Roy.” Keeley’s eyes were brimming, alight with something he couldn’t quite place, “I’m going to hug you now.”
“Fucking, fine.”
“You hungry?” Her face was pressed over his shoulder and she couldn’t stop the cogs from whirring in her brain…
“I could eat.”
“I was going to have my favourite ragù, I should have enough for you too, Jamie’s…” she paused, for some reason not sure she should divulge that Jamie was still basically a Meals-on-Wheels delivery service for her, “…the place I get it from always gives me huge portions.”
But Roy’s ears had already pricked up at the mention of Jamie’s name, “Jamie what?”
“It’s one of his favourites too, we always did it with homemade pasta.”
“Homemade fucking pasta? Ok MasterChef. Who the fuck has time for that?” Roy rolled his eyes and Keeley laughed as she scoffed at him,
“You’ll see when you taste it, it’s fucking worth it!”
*
And if he had worked himself up into such a state fretting all day that he fell asleep on her sofa with his pants still in the dryer and a full belly, two glasses of red wine deep, and Keeley chortling away at Sex and the City, that’s between him and the fluffy pink blanket.
*
Next morning - 17th May 2020
The day before the match, Jamie had decided to take himself off to his favourite barber in Richmond, making the most of the minimal free time he had down there again, and maybe or maybe not wanting to have a haircut to at least spruce himself up a bit in case Roy maybe wanted to talk to him in person again. Because he just couldn’t shake the hope that Roy might finally reach out, he’d been holding his phone in his hand and checking and rechecking his messages and toying with the idea of reaching out himself, but it’s gone too far now and he doesn’t know what to do.
It doesn’t help that when sitting in the chair in there, minding his own business and waiting for his pomade, some random posh twat showed him a video of fucking Lasso playing mind games saying nice shit about him, what the fuck man? As if he didn’t already have enough on his mind today.
Tomorrow was finally almost here. He’d been waiting for this day for weeks, he’d finally get to meet Roy on the pitch again, at some point surely, Ted wouldn’t bench him for the entire game, right? And it was eating him up inside. Just seeing him at all, after bailing on him in the club. Not that Roy knew that was him. But Jamie fucking did. Not like he’d forget any time soon and he’d have to remind his face not to give the game away if he did see him outside of the game.
He still didn’t know what to do, whether to reach out, whether to just text him and say hi, ask how he’s doing like nothing was weird, like he hadn’t just ghosted him for weeks? Like nothing had been tormenting him for weeks now with the way things ended? Which was entirely his own fault for bolting, he knew that, seemed to be his specialty now didn’t it?
So, should he apologise? Ask him to meet for coffee, for a chat? Ask him to meet up after the match and fuck his brains out again? Fuck.
Roy clearly didn’t remember a single second of what happened after the curse fire and he definitely had no idea about what happened at G-A-Y, it was beginning to feel almost just like this crazy hallucination that Jamie had conjured up inside his crazy warped brain.
His finger hovered over the empty chat box as he deleted his message for the four hundredth time. Fuck. He didn’t know what to say. He text Keeley instead. He still wouldn’t tell her about the whole conundrum, but at least some idle chit chat might help distract him long enough to get his head in the game. She said he should definitely pop by and she even had a surprise for him.
He was ringing the doorbell less than an hour later.
*
Roy blinked himself into awareness, no idea where the fuck he was at first, stiff and uncomfortable and tucked into a sofa much smaller than what was required for a professional athlete to get a restorative nights sleep. He heard a shower go on somewhere outside of his consciousness and hoisted himself up with more difficulty than he preferred this close to a match day, staggering into the kitchen to look through cupboards to find things to make coffee. It was the least he could do, it was only polite for accidentally passing out on her couch all night after potentially tormenting her with all of his shit all evening.
Upstairs, Keeley had only just turned off the shower when she heard the doorbell ring, and assuming it was right on time for Jamie, she called down for Roy to get it, said she’d be right there. She didn’t tell him it was Jamie, there was no need, he’d be finding out for himself any second, right? In his pants and her fluffy pink gown. Why on earth there’d be any problem with that, why she couldn’t imagine.
With his head in the fridge fishing out the milk, Roy finally registered what she was shouting about down the stairs and made his way to the front door, never more grateful to have been ferreting around in the dryer for his pants mere moments before.
“Fucking hell.”
It was the last thing he ever expected. It was everything he’d been hoping for the last week might happen. It was the biggest coincidence to have ever occurred. All his planned speeches and dramatic monologues he’d been rehearsing for this moment flew out the window as if they’d never existed.
He felt Jamie’s eyes rake up and down his bare legs as if to say what the actual fuck, and Roy was thinking much the same to be fair, (along with a desperate chorus of oh fuck it’s not what you’re thinking, Jamie it’s not what it fucking looks like…) but the look of disdain crossing Jamie’s face as he watched him cross the pink dressing gown back across himself and tie up the belt had him self conscious and off kilter.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I could be asking you the same thing, old man?”
“Does Keeley know you’re coming?”
“Yeah, course.”
“Well, better fucking come in then.”
They ended up sitting in silence at the kitchen table not looking at each other, time stretching out as they waited impatiently for Keeley, Jamie with his arms crossed, sat like a statue and not fidgeting for once in his life and Roy holding his coffee mug, not drinking a mouthful.
All they can both think of is the last time they thought they saw each other, before Roy woke up alone after the curse fire with Jamie in his bed, and Jamie stuck in his head in that cubicle at G-A-Y…
They weren’t freaking out. Neither of them. Not at all. Why would they be?
“… you ok?”
Jamie blinked in surprise at Roy’s low rumble, not expecting to be addressed directly, or at all, if he was honest. He shrugged, looking away quickly, not meeting Roy’s eyes, “Yeah, m’fine, why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t mean to sound so snarky, he really didn’t,
“You know why.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in a panic, wait, what’s he talking about, exactly??
“Fuck sake, last time I saw you Jamie you couldn’t even move your shoulder like that!” Ah, right Roy hadn’t realised he was going to take the cowards way out until the words came out of his mouth, pretending the entire curse fire night never happened are we?
Jamie pressed his lips together and looked away.
It weren’t the last time you saw me though, were it? Last time I saw you Roy you had my cock in your arse, you looked so so fucking hot for me writhing around on my dick like that while I pounded you into the wall in that fucking cubicle…
“Well, it ain’t last time now.”
“What? That makes no sense.”
“Course it does. Think about it.”
Roy did think about it. He didn’t mean to stare, while pretending he wasn’t, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Jamie, checking him over for visible signs of injury, of course, but also checking him out. He really was so striking, even with that betrayed scowl marring his beautiful face.
Jamie seemed to be fading under his gaze, Roy didn’t think he’d ever seen him sit so still, “What d’you care old man? Haven’t cared enough to ask between then and now, have you?”
And maybe that hit harder than he intended and maybe it stung more than it should, and maybe Roy knew he fucking deserved it cos he’d been nothing but a fucking coward, and maybe Jamie didn’t mean to say it, not really, not like that, but he’d felt it, he’d felt it and he wondered and he wanted to know, cos it fucking hurt.
Keeley had been standing at the top of the stairs listening to all of that and found herself compl confused and not sure what to do, but as the silence stretched out again she thought she better make herself known,
“Oh yeah Roy, Jamie’s coming over…” Keeley finally ventured down, cautious,
“Oh is he? Shall I make scones?”
“Don’t like scones.”
“I’m not making scones you idiot.”
“Good, cos I don’t even like em.”
Keeley went to sit at the spare chair at the end of the table from where they sat opposite each other, “What’s that?”
“Made you coffee.” Roy groused,
“Then what’s this?”
“Brought you coffee.” Jamie kept his eyes away, ready to bolt.,
“Oh thanks boys, really need it today, drank almost all of that red wine by myself last night.” Keeley mixed them together in the same mug and took a sip, “Ooh that’s nice that is, wanna try?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, your loss then.”
Roy crossed his legs, the pink dressing gown riding up his thigh to expose his pants and he self-consciously tugged it back down as best he could, as obscured as his flash of thigh was to Jamie from across the table, and they flitted between glaring at each other and looking away, waiting for the other to break first, almost oblivious to Keeley sitting there deliberately obnoxiously slurping her coffee to see if either of them would actually snap out of their complete and total silent fixation on each other and crack and use words.
Jamie was in a complete turmoil at seeing Roy there, he was truly the last person he expected to open the door, especially wearing only his pants and Keeley’s pink Versace gown (that he’d bought for her. She’d seen it in there one time when he was being fitted for a red carpet and she’d just had to have it. He wouldn’t have minded it for himself, to be fair.)
So did Roy finally succumbed to her asking him out then? He must have, right? Jamie can feel himself slipping into prick mode and he knows he’s acting a twat, but he’s fucking sad about it, alright? He’d clearly been hankering for something to happen after the curse fire that now he knew for sure wasn’t going to, and it sucked, so sue him for having his feelings hurt about it, he knew it was his idea to come round here so it’s on him, but he could’ve done without it being rubbed in his face.
He should never have got with him at G-A-Y on the strength of his lingering feelings about what happened after way too much mezcal. All it’s done is fucked with his head, cos in his head it was all real, and he has the most incredible images and memories flashing around, but in Roy’s head, it’s clear Roy’s head has nothing of the sort, his only memories of that night are the hangover he woke up with the next morning, and his memories of G-A-Y have nothing to do with Jamie.
And it sucks. So he’s a twat about it. Because Roy is being a twat about it. And Jamie is breaking.
Roy’s being a twat because he thinks Jamie is annoyed to find him there, because maybe Jamie came round to try again with Keeley? So Roy also thinks he got the wrong idea at the curse fire. So he’s being horrible like he always was because of it.
And Roy is breaking.
Keeley sat fascinated, staring between them at this completely silent but loaded conversation clearly happening between Roy’s eyebrows and Jamie’s scowl, hmmm wtf is going on with these two…
“Right Jamie,” Keeley turned her attention across the table to him, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Not saying in front of this dry old shit.”
“Why? He won’t say anything, will you?” She tilted her head at Roy, who was still glaring at Jamie as if he’d personally offended him just by existing, right, so this was how it was going to go was it?
Roy mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key at Jamie who ducked,
“Missed.”
Roy just continued drinking his coffee, scowling over the top of his mug.
“Ted Lasso’s trying to play fucking mind games with me, saying nice shit about me on the telly trying to get in my head.”
“He does like you?”
“You’re as full of shit as he is.”
“Oi!” Roy slammed his mug down on the table, “Mind your fucking manners!”
“Alright Robocop.”
Keeley had to hide a snort at that behind her mug, “Jamie, not everyone in your life is out to get you.”
“I am.”
Roy didn’t know why he was saying the things he was saying, just fucking stop it Roy, stop it! But no one gave the memo to his mouth, (it wasn’t his responsibility alright? He had enough on his plate just dealing with the existence of a sad Jamie Tartt right in front of his face and there was literally nothing he could do about it. Yeah. You keep telling yourself that Roy. Or you could always just, grow a pair?)
He was staring straight at Jamie, he couldn’t help it, it was fucking unnerving even for himself.
Keeley looked at Roy, pointed, as if she somehow had a say in what he said or did with his fucking eyes.
“What? Thought you respected honesty?”
“I do.” She kissed him on the cheek, much to his surprise, and discomfort, what the fuck was she playing at?? He didn’t want Jamie to get the wrong idea, which it was clear by his face the way his eyes locked on it that he immediately did. He was already sitting there in his pants and her dressing gown after all.
Jamie couldn’t stop the face he knew he was inadvertently pulling, “Ugh that is disgusting.”
Jamie was not crying internally, he was not …oh fuck they are together, are they together? It looks like they’re together?
“Look Keeley when you’re done feeding mushy peas to this old fart you give me a call, yeah?”
He stood from the table, he’d fucking seen enough, “Look forward to seeing you tomorrow…” and even though this weekend wasn’t panning out the way he had hoped, he truly meant that, “…enjoy your view from the bench.”
*
And he couldn’t be sure but maybe, just maybe, that was why Roy ran him down the next day, and if those words were the ones ringing in his ears, well that was between him and the fucking ligaments he destroyed taking Jamie down with him…
*