Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen: Break My Heart
Plot: With Y/n and Jamie not speaking to one another, a trip to Manchester brings about opportunity and heartache.
Word Count: 8k
Warnings: f!reader, language, insinuated smut, mention of abusive parents
A/N: THIS is the chapter I’ve been looking forward to the most. Even though this isn’t the conclusion, I think it’s what the whole thing’s been building to. Well, this is part one of it, at least. I’m gonna shut up now and just let you read. Enjoy!!
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Sam Obisanya: Remember that movie we were looking forward to? It’s coming out on Friday. Want to catch it this weekend?
Colin Hughes: Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything alright?
Dani Rojas: We missed you at Isaac’s birthday dinner! Come visit us next time you are free!
Rebecca Welton: Your tea’s cold. Keeley’s confirmed you’re not dead. Several questions.
Ted Lasso: What’s shaking, Abe Lincoln? Don’t be a stranger next time you’re meeting with the boss.
There had been an onslaught of texts in the three weeks since Y/n had moved out of the Dogtrack. She hadn’t expected people to not notice she was gone, but she hadn’t thought so many of them would care.
She’d ignored every single one.
She wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to stick with Keeley. Barbara had stayed on as well. With Rebecca’s generous financing, the three of them were keeping their ship afloat all by themselves. Jack be damned.
True to her word, Y/n handled all Richmond business from afar, only popping in with Keeley for an occasional meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She sorted press conferences and post-match interviews without ever stepping foot in the building. If it weren’t so unhealthy, it would have been impressive.
In her makeshift office, actually the conference room, Y/n paced around her computer. She eyed the screen each time she passed by. Roy had a presser scheduled for the afternoon. Sam and…another player were meant to join him. Sam she could handle seeing, though Lord knows she felt guilty for ghosting him. The other one…
“Oh,” Y/n waved herself off, feeling ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could handle it, she thought, as she turned on the video feed.
Springing to life on her screen, Roy sat between Sam and Jamie, fielding questions.
Y/n’s insides locked up. Jamie.
They hadn’t spoken since the night he’d shown up at her apartment. Not a single text or run-in. It was no longer just Y/n avoiding him, Jamie was actively not speaking to her.
Y/n tried to focus on Sam’s answers, he spoke humbly about Richmond’s 15-game win streak. The last three had been unbelievable you-had-to-be-there kind of matches. Hiding in her apartment with a Sky Sports broadcast hadn’t compared to the real thing. Y/n missed the energy of the stadium and the joy of watching the boys.
Her eyes kept floating back to Jamie. He was hunched over the table, biting his nails, not making eye contact with anyone. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all.
Marcus Adebayo, though he answered to Roy’s nickname of ‘better Trent,’ stood and addressed Jamie. “On the heels of making your England debut, how does it feel to be named Premier League Player of the Month?”
“Eh, um, yeah. Yeah, it feels good, I guess,” Jamie answered hesitantly, “But it’s really the team making me look good. So, I should be doing a better job of making them look good, really.”
If Y/n had been in the room, Sam, Roy and her would have all shared the same puzzled look.
“So, yeah. Makes me feel bad,” Jamie finished with a pursed frown.
Roy leaned forward, “Uh, Jamie also led the league in assists this month so he’s done plenty to make his teammates look good.”
“Yeah, but they’re the ones who took all the shots,” Jamie corrected softly.
“He also scored a goal,” Sam interjected.
“T-that was meant to be a pass,” Jamie pointed out, his voice high with anxiety, “You shouldn’t count that. That goal is a lie. It should be retracted from the records.”
Y/n shook her head in confusion, whispering to the empty room, “What are you doing?”
“I apologize to everyone,” Jamie continued, “Especially to the kids.”
“Right, let’s call it there, everyone,” Roy decided at the exact second Y/n was internally stepping forward, “That was great. Thanks very much.”
Y/n stared at the screen, her gaze following Jamie until he was off camera. Whoever had been speaking wasn’t any variation of the Jamie Tartt she knew. He was so out of character it was concerning.
She glanced at her phone, the device silently begging her to type a message. Ask him. Talk to him. Find out what’s wrong. Help him.
Instead, Y/n took a deep breath, closed out the browser, opened her email and got back to work. No good could come from her reaching out. Jamie would be absolutely fine without her, better even. And she would be fine without him.
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Y/n wasn’t a woman who ever thought a man’s presence added anything to a situation she couldn’t. But as she heaved the water jug onto the cooler, she wished that she hadn’t sent the delivery guy away under the assumption she could do it herself.
She returned to the main room to find Keeley in conversation with Roy, both of them turning to face her.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roy asked.
Y/n motioned to the space around them, “I work here.”
“No, you don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly, “You work at Richmond.”
“Y/n has been here the last few weeks,” Keeley answered, “Just to get things back up and running while we’re short staffed.”
Roy took deep pride in not interjecting himself into anyone else’s business. Sure, he’d helped Isaac through whatever the fuck had caused his meltdown last month. Yes, he offered Ted advice from time to time. But the other 99% of the time, he didn’t particularly care what choices the people around him made. Their lives were theirs and his was his.
But Jamie and Y/n were another fucking deal.
He wouldn’t have invited Y/n along to their 4AM training sessions if he hadn’t known she helped keep Jamie’s spirits up. He’d caught the two of them leaving the parking lot together more than a dozen times. He’d noticed Jamie be the first one on the pitch whenever Y/n was observing training and the first one off when she was waiting on him for lunch. He was well aware the two of them were attached at the fucking hip. Y/n’s disappearance had thrown everything off-balance. Maybe it wasn’t the reason for Jamie breaking down in Roy’s arms earlier, but it certainly couldn’t be helping.
“Oh,” Roy humored the answer, smiling at Y/n. “That’s very kind of her.”
Y/n grinned back nervously, Roy could see through everyone’s bullshit but his own.
“She could help too,” Keeley suggested.
“Help with what?” Y/n asked.
Keeley gestured to Roy for an explanation. “Jamie’s going through some shit. I asked Keeley to talk to him, but since you two are close, maybe you could too.”
Big fat flashing red sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Oh, I really don’t think I’d help anything,” she struggled, “I-I think Keeley’s much more suited.”
“Not necessarily,” Keeley disagreed as Roy continued to stare Y/n down, “I mean, you two are really good friends.”
“We’re not that close,” Y/n lied, “I mean, we’ve hung out a couple of times but really,” she extended a hand toward her boss, “You definitely know him better.”
Unlike her ex, Keeley had no problem inserting herself in other people’s business. She hadn’t yet approached Y/n about the headlines she and Jamie had made after the England match or the fact that she didn’t want to go near Nelson Road. Since coming back from London, Y/n had pulled away from everyone and everything, Keeley included.
Roy was taking some sick joy in egging Y/n on, “Oh, no, I think-“
“I’ll take care of it,” Keeley jumped to say, ending whatever confrontation was about to take place. “Promise.”
Y/n and Roy held eye contact, challenging one another to break first. Eventually, Roy’s desire to look at Keeley won out and he turned away.
“Thanks,” he glanced back over at Y/n, “I’ll leave you two to your work.”
Stealing one more fleeting gaze at his ex-girlfriend, Roy left the way he’d come, leaving Y/n with a whole new bunch of unresolved feelings.
“He’s quite handsome.”
Y/n startled, she hadn’t even realized Barbara was seated at her desk for the whole exchange. She headed for the conference room, eager to get away from every part of the conversation.
Keeley hung back a moment before following her and gently knocking on the door. “Hi,” she entered slowly, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Y/n answered with faux cheeriness, seated once more at her desk/table, “Fine.”
“It’s just back there…you seemed a bit on edge when Roy mentioned Jamie,” Keeley broached the topic with care.
Y/n’s muscles involuntarily clenched, she tried to keep an even expression. “No, I’m fine.”
Keeley hesitated, nearly turning around and leaving before deciding to just go for it. “You know, if this is about the pictures of you two, I don’t think anyone thinks-“
Y/n sighed, “Keeley, I’m fine. I just think Roy should do his fucking job and take care of his players instead of pawning them off on one of us.”
“I’m not talking about Roy,” Keeley replied, “I’m talking about-“
“Jamie and I are not close,” Y/n said, her tone harsher than intended, “We are not friends. There’s nothing wrong with him, we’re just not as chummy as everyone seems to think we are. End of story.”
Keeley knew Y/n’s edges were sharp, but she hadn’t ever seen her snap so quickly. It only told her there was more to the issue than she’d guessed.
“Got it,” she gave a single nod, “I’m sorry I asked.”
Y/n regretted her words the moment she’d said them. Keeley hadn’t deserved her misplaced frustration. But the mere mention of that night triggered Y/n’s fight-or-flight response. Mixed with the knowledge that something was wrong with Jamie and that Roy clearly knew something, it was all too much.
She stared out the conference room window, landing on Keeley and Barbara’s desks they’d pushed together. She could have been with them, working together as a team. Instead, she was hiding away, once again deciding that the isolation could keep her safe from everything.
Everything except the gnawing fear that she was responsible for Jamie’s behavior.
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Finally, the long awaited weekend arrived.
Man City versus Richmond.
Y/n left no stone unturned when searching for a new excuse not to attend the match. She’d had her period the first week of her three week absence, sick and exhausted the next two. If she’d had any family in the country, there would have been some fake emergency involving them.
She knew she couldn’t get away with a full month’s nonattendance. She had to go to Manchester.
Packing an overnight bag at 6AM and getting on the road by 7 had been her self-ruled terms. The last thing Y/n wanted was to be stuffed on a bus with everyone she was trying to avoid for four hours. Driving herself allowed not only space, but an escape route, if she needed it.
She was barely out of London when Keeley rang her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” the Bluetooth speakers of the car projected Keeley’s voice, “We’re loading the bus up. Just wanted to see where you were.”
Y/n sighed, she’d forgotten to tell someone she wasn’t coming with the team. “Actually, I’m already on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get an early start.”
“Oh,” Keeley sounded a bit disappointed, but not entirely surprised, “That makes sense. Smart choice.”
“Yeah,” Y/n replied, feeling the familiar burn in her gut that came with each lie she told, “I’m a bit ahead of you guys so I’ll see you when you get there.”
“Alright. Drive safe, yeah?”
“You too,” she said before disconnecting the call.
Y/n tried to listen to music, tried to play a podcast, but she found that anything other than silence just didn’t feel right. Every song seemed to trace back to her situation and every spoken word seemed to be speaking directly to her, telling her everything she was doing was wrong.
The silence was no more comforting, it only gave her more room to ruminate about the weekend. How was she supposed to avoid Jamie in such close quarters? How was she supposed to keep away from Ted, Rebecca, Keeley, the rest of the team? It felt like a mistake to come and an equally massive one to stay behind.
A long four hours later, Y/n pulled up to the Hacienda Hotel. The Greyhound bus had yet to arrive. She actually stood a chance at getting up to her room and dodging company till the match.
Y/n gave her car to the valet and dragged her single suitcase through the lobby. She headed straight for the front desk.
“Hi,” she greeted the concierge, “I have a reservation under Y/l/n.”
“Let me just check,” the man replied, typing the last name into his computer. He frowned, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t seem to have that reservation.”
“No, that can’t be right,” Y/n calmly replied, “I called yesterday about transferring one room under the Richmond block to my name.”
The man scrolled through his list a second time, “Unfortunately, that request doesn’t seem to have been entered into our system. All the Richmond rooms are reserved under the name ‘Lasso.’”
Y/n sighed, she’d gone to extreme lengths to separate herself before even stepping foot in the city. So much so that she’d been willing to pay her own overpriced hotel rate.
“Fine,” she relented, “It doesn’t matter. Checking in to one room under the name ‘Lasso.’”
“Unfortunately, ma’am,” the employee grimaced, “Under hotel policy, we can’t check in individual guests if the reservation is under a different name. You’ll have to wait until the main guest has arrived.”
Y/n’s plan crumbled further, Ted had to check her in? Worse, she’d have to wait with the whole fucking team?
Just as she’d connected the dots, the hiss of a Coach could be heard outside. Y/n whipped her head around to see the AFC Richmond logo and the moving silhouettes of the boys through the dark windows.
“There,” Y/n pointed to the bus, “The main guest’s there. Check me in.”
The man hesitated, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to wait to confirm-“
“How many people named ‘Lasso’ do you think there are in this country?” Y/n whispered in a panic, “He’s right in there, he’s making shitty puns,” her hand bounced against the desk, “Check me in.”
Arguing would have been hard considering Ted was an anomaly in England. The concierge conceded to Y/n’s demand and began the process.
Y/n nervously drummed her fingers against the counter, glancing back to see Will emerging from the bus. Behind him were Isaac, Richard and Jan.
“You’ll be in room #601, ma’am,” the concierge reported and handed her a room key.
Y/n yanked the card out of his palm before he could tell her the bellboy would be happy to take her suitcase. “Thank you.”
She hurried across the lobby to the elevator, praying she could make a getaway without anyone see-
“Hey, Y/n!”
She stopped in her tracks, so close…
Y/n turned around and spotted Ted, hurrying across the lobby as one would after a long drive. She managed a smile and a wave, pressing the elevator’s button repeatedly with her other hand.
“Don’t forget,” Ted called as he made a beeline for the bathrooms. “Team movie, 7:30. I’ll give ya a hint; if you love Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, you ain’t gonna wanna miss this one!”
In three weeks, Y/n had dodged a lot of invitations. A lot. Another declination and she was convinced she’d develop an ulcer.
“Sounds good,” she shouted just as the elevator doors opened. She jumped inside and pressed her floor number before anyone else spot her.
Just before the doors closed, she caught the first of the boys entering the lobby. Just past Sam, Y/n glimpsed the sharp edges of Jamie’s face. Her heart caught in her throat, the mere sight of him was enough to startle her.
She wondered how long she could pretend everything was fine before she proved herself wrong.
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Y/n hid in her room the rest of the day. She didn’t dare leave to get ice or see the city, sure that with her luck, she’d run into someone the second she stepped out.
Half-way through the afternoon, a knock at the door surprised her. She peeked through the peephole to see Keeley. Out of anyone, she was the one that Y/n couldn’t totally avoid.
The door swung open and Y/n put on a smile, “Hey.”
“Hi,” Keeley greeted, “You beat us here.”
“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled, “Trust me, I’d have rather gotten the sleep.”
“Right,” Keeley chortled, “Can I come in?”
Y/n opened the door wider and allowed it. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to steal your pillow chocolates,” her boss cheekily smirked but didn’t move to grab the candy.“And…to ask if you might reconsider talking to Jamie?”
“Keeley,” Y/n sighed in frustration, rubbing at her face, “I told you-“
“I know,” Keeley held up her hands, “But I just talked to him and…he’s really in his head. It’s bad, Y/n. I’ve never seen him like this.”
While she could pretend all she wanted that Jamie meant little to her, Y/n was growing more and more worried. Every one of his dreams were coming true, and the ones that hadn’t were on the horizon. He should have been on top of the world and instead, he was spiraling. She wanted nothing more than to bang on his door, wrap him in her arms and fix it all. Put him back together until he was his glorious self.
“Look,” Y/n pushed on one of her eyes, “Keeley, whatever you think I’m capable of doing for Jamie, I’m not. I’m not a footballer, I’m not his coach, I’m not his girlfriend,” she found the last words uncomfortably difficult to get out, “I’m half his publicity team. That’s it.”
“You’re more than that,” Keeley replied, she had the kindest way of arguing. “You two have been glued to each other’s sides since you got to Richmond. Jamie trusts you. If you just talk to him-“
Y/n pressed her hands against her lips as Keeley spoke. The panic was beginning to swirl inside her again.
“Keeley,” she cut her off and enunciated her words, “I can’t help him.”
After a whole season of working together, Keeley could easily tell when Y/n was lying, both to others and herself. She didn’t need to know what her and Jamie meant to one another, all that mattered was they did. If Y/n wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, there wasn’t anything Keeley could do.
“Okay,” she replied, once again resigned in her failed quest, “I’ll leave you be.”
Y/n didn’t move as Keeley’s furry jacket brushed past her, shutting her eyes to hide the tears. Only when she was alone once more did she let them streak her cheeks. Somewhere down the hall, Jamie was hurting, and that meant she was hurting as well.
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At exactly 7:30, Y/n made her way down the hotel hall. Different conference rooms lined the walls and she followed their numbers till she found the one Ted had texted her. She slipped through the back door, the lights were dimmed and everyone had already taken their seats. Her version of perfect timing.
From her vantage point, Y/n had a perfect layout of the seating arrangement. The team were gathered in the first few rows. Keeley and Roy were at one end of the back row, with Ted, Beard, Rebecca and Higgins following. Y/n couldn’t help but let her eyes run over the players’ heads, spotting Jamie’s mop of hair in the front row.
After evaluating her options, Y/n chose the safest one at the nearest end of the back row, next to Trent Crimm.
“Just in time,” he whispered as she took the seat beside him.
“Yeah,” she replied, “Got lost.”
Trent nodded, waiting a few seconds before speaking up again, “You know, I’m sure anyone would be happy to switch. In case you wanted to sit with your friends.”
Y/n peered over at Trent, whose eyes gleamed suspiciously with knowledge.
“I’m fine,” she readjusted in her chair to prove the point.
Trent nodded, trying and failing not to smirk, “I’m honored to rank so high on your priority list.”
Y/n’s glance turned into a stare, the former journalist was smiling as if she were made of glass. Were her actions so obvious that even he had noticed?
Trent settled back into his chair, shifting his attention to the opening credits. Y/n did the same and focused just as the main title popped up.
You’ve Got Mail.
She groaned internally, if the universe was out to get her, choosing one of the most romantic comedies of all time was the greatest insult it could hurl.
For an hour and fifty-nine minutes, Y/n squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She couldn’t go more than thirty seconds without sneaking a peek at Jamie, who hadn’t moved at all since the start. He was a fidgeting mess every waking minute of the day. Something was terribly off.
After Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks kissed in the New York garden and his golden retriever leaped to embrace them, the lights came back on. Y/n distractedly clapped along with the rest of the room, already eyeing her exit.
“All right. Listen up, you big softies,” Ted announced, “10PM, lights out. Then get yourselves some beauty sleep for tomorrow’s big meet-cute with Man City. You hear? Alright, Ephron on three. One, two, three-“
A few people, Beard being the loudest, chanted the filmmaker’s name.
“Lovely to see you again,” Trent said, a tease to his tone, as Y/n got up and out of her seat.
She hesitated, catching his knowing expression once more, and debated saying something. She decided it wasted energy and turned on her heel, making it only two steps before Keeley grabbed hold of her arm.
“Come on,” she ordered, pulling Y/n behind her.
“What?” Y/n asked, “Where the-“
Keeley didn’t answer, tugging her across the room towards the door Roy was holding open.
“Keeley, what-“
“Shh,” Keeley hushed, finally letting go of Y/n’s arm.
Y/n followed alongside her boss and Roy, unsure of where they were leading her. When they got to the lobby and she caught Jamie’s silhouette ahead of them, she came to a halt.
“No.”
“Y/n-“ Keeley began.
“No,” Y/n slashed a hand through the air, “I told you no.”
“Fuck your no,” Roy snapped, “I don’t care what the fuck’s going on wth you two, but your job is to make the club look good,” Roy pointed to Jamie’s fleeting figure, “And he makes us look good. So you’re gonna do your fucking job and you’re gonna help us fucking fix this.”
Y/n chuckled with deep annoyance, “You know what? Fuck you, Kent. I’m not one of your footballers you can boss around any time you’re in a shit mood,” she stuck a finger out at Roy, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Oi!” Keeley exclaimed, her heels slapping against the floor as she marched back, “Both of you, stop it. Come on!”
Roy and Y/n broke their stare, Jamie was rounding the corner and heading out the hotel’s doors. Sparing each other one more hardened glare, they followed Keeley.
The three of them exited the hotel, Keeley spotting Jamie passing the Richmond bus, and they traced his path. Against all she told herself, Y/n went on her own free will, chasing him through the Manchester evening.
Keeley’s stalking technique involved scurrying behind cars and lampposts, while Y/n clung to building walls. Ever the least subtle of any group, Roy simply walked the street, not using much caution to mask his presence.
They followed Jamie through neighborhoods and into the inner part of the city. They crossed bridges, climbed stairs and finally ended up on one side of a florescent lit tunnel. On their descent down the steps, they lost sight of him.
“The fuck is he?” Roy asked.
“I don’t know,” Keeley answered, “You’ve lost him.”
Roy glanced around them, “You said he went down here.”
“I did not,” Keeley argued, “You said that.”
“No, I said he’s in a tunnel,” Roy corrected as the three of them marched down the way, “I didn’t say he was in this tunnel. She’s the one who thought it was this one.”
“He did come down this one,” Y/n said sternly.
“Well, there’s no other tunnel, is there?” Keeley reprimanded them, “I don’t believe it. You’ve lost Jamie Tartt.”
“We didn’t lose him,” Y/n argued, silently worried. The second she’d lost eyes on Jamie was the second their surroundings suddenly became unsettling.
“You can’t lose Jamie Tartt,” Roy replied.
“Well, you have,” Keeley fired back.
“OI!”
Roy, Keeley and Y/n jumped at the exclaim, spinning around and shouting various expletives.
“Fucking hell!”
“What the fuck?!”
Jamie stood, hood over his head and hands in his pockets. “Why are you following me?”
“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you prick,” Roy spoke kind words with contrasting anger.
“What’s going on, Jamie?” Keeley asked, “Are you buying drugs?”
Jamie’s confused stare turned to Y/n, he locked up. The three weeks of not seeing her made her sudden presence feel like a hallucination.
Any face Y/n had been wearing dropped the second her eyes met Jamie’s. This was the closest they’d been since that night outside her apartment.
They came back to themselves quickly, hiding whatever they were feeling for the sake of Keeley and Roy being present.
Jamie nodded towards the path ahead of them, “Come on.”
Roy, Keeley and Y/n followed without question as Jamie guided them through the tunnel. It led up to a crowded neighborhood, a council estate that looked like it had seen better days.
Y/n made an effort to follow Roy, keeping as much distance as she could between her and Jamie. Her presence would probably mess with his head even more so than her absence might have. She was starting to wonder if the choice to come had been a selfish one.
They passed a group of kids kicking a football against a brick wall.
“Oi,” one of them called, “Are you Jamie Tartt?”
Jamie pushed back his hood, “Yeah.”
“More like Jamie Fart,” the youngest taunted.
“Screw you, dickhead,” the tallest one shouted, “Prick!”
“Yeah, who are you?”
“City’s gonna fuck you up tomorrow!”
Through the haranguing of insults, Jamie smiled, glancing over to Keeley, and sneaking one at Y/n. He led them away towards the row of houses.
Roy stuck around, turning to stare down the kids, who’d gone dead silent. Y/n readied herself to drag Roy away kicking and screaming from unloading on them.
Instead, he held up his hands in an ‘ok’ sign, “Good lads.”
While the kids were clearly thrilled at having been complimented by the Roy Kent, Y/n slapped his arm as hard as she could. Roy grasped it and silently protested before Y/n pointed to where Jamie and Keeley had gone off to.
They arrived on the doorsteps of one of the houses. Jamie rang the doorbell and they waited till a pair of eyes popped through one of the door’s glass bits.
“Hey,” the man exclaimed before opening the door, greeting them with a wide grin, “Jamie!”
“How you doing, Simon?” Jamie smiled and pointed to the group, “This is Keeley, that’s Roy, and that’s Y/n.”
“Come on in, come on in,” Simon waved them into the home.
Jamie entered first, shaking Simon’s hand, “How are you, mate? Good seeing you, man.”
“Yeah, great,” Simon replied as he ushered his guests in.
Keeley, Roy and Y/n all gave various greetings as they crossed the threshold. None of them knew quite where they were.
“Georgie,” Simon called up the stairs, “We’ve got visitors!”
A female voice called back down, “What was that, love? Someone at the door?”
Jamie made a beeline for the bottom of the staircase, just as a woman stopped at the top, frozen by what lay in front of her.
“Hello, Mommy.”
Y/n’s eyes widened.
Georgie screamed as she ran down the steps, leaping into her son’s arms. “Jamie!”
“Mommy, I’d like to introduce you to Keeley,” Jamie turned to face his friends, “And this hairy prick’s Roy,” his smile dropped an imperceptible inch, “And that’s Y/n over there.”
“Hi,” Keeley greeted in her normal bubbly tone.
“Hi,” Y/n managed to eek out, holding up a nervous hand.
“Hey, you,” Roy said smoothly.
“Hi,” Georgie greeted them all while hugging Jamie once more, “It’s lovely to finally meet you all. I’d come and give you a hug,” she squeezed the sides of her son’s face, “But I’m not letting go of this one!”
Jamie lifted his mom into the air and spun her around.
“There they go,” Simon observed, “Right, who wants some sweet treats?”
Simon slipped off deeper into the house while Georgie and Jamie stayed in their embrace.
“Look at your gorgeous face,” she exclaimed as Jamie carried them both down the hallway, “I love it. How have you been? Look at you.”
Run. All of Y/n’s instincts told her to run right back out that door and take her chances with being abducted in the sketchy tunnel. Roy and Keeley must have sensed her unease because Keeley reached back for Y/n’s hand and Roy kept behind her, forcing her inside.
Georgie and Jamie had managed to separate long enough for Jamie to snuggle up against his mom on the living room couch. Keeley, Y/n and Roy stood at the entrance to the room, unsure of where to go.
“Oh, come and sit down,” Georgie gestured to the rest of the room.
Keeley and Roy entered less hesitatingly than Y/n, who took up a seat on the arm of the couch. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement of epic proportions. Here she’d gone to every effort to avoid Jamie, and she’d ended up in what was clearly his childhood home with his mother.
She glanced over at the shrine to Jamie on the far wall, various pictures of him from different stages of life proudly displayed. Baby pictures all the way to league headshots. Y/n wanted to evaporate into thin air.
Simon popped back into the room with a plate of baked goods, dishing one out to each of his guests as Georgie and Jamie talked.
“It was just poopy,” Jamie quietly vented to his mom, his thick accent changing the word entirely, “You know, it really upset me. This guy on Twitter, he kept saying that it was blonde, but I’m like, ‘It’s fucking walnut mist, mate.’”
Y/n nearly spit out the bite of scone she was chewing. If this whole debacle was about his vanity, she’d march out the door. They’d argued several times over the exact shade of the highlights.
“Yeah, obviously,” Georgie agreed, stroking her son’s hair, “He’s done a lovely job, it’s dead natural.”
Simon finished pouring the tea, looking up expectantly at the party. “What do you think?”
Keeley smiled, “It’s really yummy.”
“Yeah, it’s wonderful,” Y/n managed to find her voice.
Keeley elbowed Roy, who was lost staring at the sight of his former nemesis cuddled up with his mother like a lost child. “It’s fucking delicious,” he said distractedly before returning.
“Well, it’s a Paul Hollywood recipe, but I’ve gone a little bit rogue on it,” Simon explained.
Allowing herself to slip back into a world where Jamie was damn near the center, Y/n wondered who Simon was. He clearly wasn’t Jamie’s biological father, he was the complete antithesis of the man she’d heard horror stories about. Jamie had never mentioned having a step-dad.
“Babes,” Georgie said softly, “Do you wanna give Roy, Keeley and Y/n the grand tour? Show them around a bit?”
“Yes,” Simon agreed, catching the signals his wife was throwing at him. “Good idea. Thank—“ he stood and hit his head on the overhead light, “Oops! Right, follow me. We will start in the kitchen, aka my laboratory.”
Y/n was the first to stand, but fell behind Keeley, making her a buffer. When Roy hesitated to leave, she tugged him harshly out the room.
“Fuckin’ grip you’ve got,” he complained as they walked to the kitchen.
“Oh, bite me,” Y/n retorted. Keeley had good intentions, but she was ready to kick Roy for dragging her into this.
Simon took them on a full tour of the house, showcasing his kitchen and its appliances off as if they were his most prized possessions. All along the walls of the house were pictures of him and Georgie on various trips and holidays. Scattered between them were childhood pictures of Jamie.
Eventually, Simon led them up the stairs and down a short hall. “And here is the main attraction,” he announced, opening a door and flipping on a light, “Jamie’s room.”
“Oh, sweet Lord,” Y/n muttered under her breath. This was way too deep in.
The room seemed untouched since the day Jamie had left it. Both childhood toys and teen paraphernalia were stacked on shelves and dressers. The bedding had a football pattern to it and there were various trophies for the sport nearby. On the walls, there were school certificates and diplomas and-
“Fucking hell.”
Y/n turned to see a poster of Roy, sporting a Chelsea kit and a very shaggy haircut tacked to Jamie’s wall.
“Ah, yes,” Simon looked to the footballer, “Many posters have come and gone over the years. Henry, Gerrard, Ronaldo…but Roy Kent, always remains.”
Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted, ignoring the daggers Roy was sending her way.
An phone alarm went off and Simon pulled the device out of his pocket. “Oh! Meat pies are done,” he said, “Excuse me.”
As he shut the door, another poster was revealed. This one of Keeley during her more risqué modeling days, holding two footballs against her breasts.
“Fucking hell,” she grunted.
“Yep, no, can’t do it,” Y/n finally found her voice and the doorknob. She wasn’t sure she could spend another second in Jamieland without her head exploding. “Simon!”
Their friendly host had barely made it down one of the stairs, “Yeah?”
“Let me help you with the pies,” Y/n jogged down the hall.
“Oh, no, you go ahead and look around,” he said kindly.
“No, really,” Y/n followed him down the staircase, “You’re kind enough to deal with three strangers barging into your house. It’s the least I can do.”
Simon scoffed lightheartedly as he led them into the kitchen, “No friend of Jamie’s is a stranger in this house,” he slipped on a pair of oven mitts, “Right, if you want to place these on the cooling rack.”
Simon pulled out the tray of pies and set them on the stove. Y/n went about setting them on the racks, wondering if she’d made the better choice. Now, instead of sitting in Jamie’s bedroom, she was cooking with his step-dad.
“So,” Simon spoke as he moved about the kitchen, “I can gather what brought Jamie here, but what made you three tag along?”
“Oh,” Y/n searched for an explanation, “He’s been a bit…off…lately and we were just worried about him.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” he replied, “Coming home’s a big deal, especially in this case.”
Y/n furrowed her brows, “How do you figure?”
“Well, if you were playing against your hometown in your hometown,” Simon wiped his hands on his apron, “Might stir up some feelings.”
Said out in the open, it all sounded so obvious. Of course Jamie was struggling with playing Man City. Not only that, he hadn’t spoken to his dad in ages and it was almost guaranteed the bastard would show up to cheer against his own son.
Y/n sighed, she felt like an idiot.
“Speaking of home,” Simon broke her out of her head, “Your accent doesn’t suggest you’re from around here.”
“No,” Y/n returned to their conversation, “I, uh, moved here for school and never left.”
“Oh, fascinating. What made you stay?”
Y/n shrugged and placed the last of the pies on the cooling rack. “I was just settled and didn’t want to leave.”
“That must’ve been awful for your parents,” Simon said, “When Jamie moved to London, Georgie was devastated, and that’s only a half day’s drive. I can’t imagine a whole ocean’s worth of distance.”
If Y/n thought the night couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the mention of her parents proved her wrong. Between the location, a vulnerable Jamie in the next room, and her family being brought up, she thought she might burst into tears.
“They’re okay with it,” she answered.
“Gosh,” Simon commented, stood at the island, “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” Y/n replied quickly and spun around, attempting a smile, “But I’ve got a lovely life here.”
“Of course,” he grinned, “Working for a football club’s got to be exciting. Jamie’s mentioned you plenty.”
Y/n wasn’t moving, but she could feel everything inside her stop. “Jamie’s…mentioned me?”
“Loads,” Simon nodded, “He calls round every once in a while. Obviously he keeps busy, but the name Y/n has come up nearly every conversation. I thought I might break into hives when Georgie told me about the Christmas dinner you two cooked.”
Simon began to recount all the memories shared between Jamie and Y/n that he and Georgie had become privy to. It wasn’t just the more notable moments like their chaotic Christmas or helping Y/n move to Richmond, but the little ones too. Sneaking into the stadium for lunch breaks in the seats. Post-match interviews Y/n oversaw and how Jamie would try and make her laugh with his answers. Y/n making Jamie decorate his house because the bareness of it drove her crazy. Jamie showing up on Y/n’s doorstep on her birthday right at midnight. Trying to learn how to cook together after the disastrous Christmas dinner and kind of, almost, sort of succeeding. Picking one another’s songs at team karaoke nights. Conversations in the hallways of Nelson Road. Movies and shows suggested to one another and the reactions that followed.
The whole of Jamie and Y/n’s relationship was played back for her in his parent’s kitchen.
She was speechless.
“I, uh,” she managed, her eyes beginning to glisten, “I didn’t know Jamie talked that much about his friends.”
“His friends?” Simon looked to Y/n before ducking his eyes away when he saw she was serious, “Oh, yes…his friends.”
The small slip was enough to confirm what Y/n already suspected.
“Um,” she said, her throat suddenly thick, “It’s getting late. Would you mimd telling Roy and Keeley I took a cab back to the hotel?”
“Of course,” Simon smiled, “Can I send you home with a pie?”
“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Y/n was already crossing the kitchen, “But thank you so much for the scones. Please tell Georgie thank you for letting us interrupt your night.”
Simon waved her off, “Nonsense. Get back safe.”
Y/n speed walked down the hall, not sparing so much as a glance in the living room’s direction. She threw the front door open and hurried down the way. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.
Her breath came in quick puffs, the anxiety creating quite a home in her chest. She was on the verge of having the worst anxiety attack of her life, all because she’d come to the conclusion that she was cared for. No, this wasn’t care. This was something else entirely.
Little did she know, the second he’d heard her brush through the hall, Jamie was on high alert. He’d looked up from his mom, jumping to a seated position as the door slammed shut.
“Was that Y/n?” He asked Simon as he passed by the living room.
“Yes, she said she had to get back to the hotel,” Simon answered, grabbing the plate of half eaten scones from the coffee table.
Jamie was up and off the couch in an instant, hurrying down the hall and out the front door. Y/n was stood on the sidewalk, her hand pressed to her chest as if she was on the verge of collapsing.
“Hey.”
Y/n’s head whipped around, Jamie was jogging down the steps to her. He kept a fair bit of distance between them at first, unsure of how she felt about his presence. All she could do was attempt another breath.
“Hey,” Jamie crossed the space, deciding to reach for Y/n’s arms, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she shook her head and avoided meeting Jamie’s concerned eyes.
“No, what’s wrong?” Jamie’s thumbs stroked over her sweater.
For all her fight, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to battle the warm grip Jamie had on her. She’d missed it.
“I’m fine, Jamie,” she lied once more, “I just want to go back to the hotel.”
Jamie scanned her face, finding the tears in her red eyes before she could hide them. Just as much as there was something wrong with him, there was something eating away at Y/n.
In the three weeks they’d stayed away from one another, Jamie had found life to be unbearable. The anxiety about playing Man City and the possibility of seeing his father once more had manifested in his playing. He’d struggled through training more and more, slowly becoming paralyzed by the lack of his usual fire. Without Y/n there to go and vent all his fears to, someone who understood without him ever having to explain a thing, it had all snowballed. Breaking down in the boot room and sobbing into Roy’s shoulder could have been avoided. His panic attack when Keeley had come to his room to check on him would have never happened.
But it wasn’t just that. Jamie found himself missing Y/n in the dullest of moments. Making dinner for himself, searching for something on television, driving home from work. Sleep was nearly impossible now that he’d gotten to fade out with her in his arms. The vacancy she’d left in his life was overwhelming. Jamie had never wanted to share such insignificant moments with someone in his life. He’d never felt as unsettled without someone.
This wasn’t some infatuation. He couldn’t live without her.
“Look,” Jamie tilted her head up, her eyes finally meeting his, “I know everything’s wrecked a-and we fucked it all up but…” his breath came out trembling, “But I love you.”
Y/n cries began to shake her chest.
“And I know this is the worst fucking time to say it,” Jamie bit back a laugh, but he felt ten tons lighter with the words finally spoken, “But I don’t regret what happened. If I could go back and do it a hundred times over, I would.”
A single cry escaped Y/n.
“And I need you,” Jamie spoke urgently, dragging a hand to Y/n’s cheek, brushing a thumb over the wet skin, “I need you with me ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ without you. I don’t. You’ve fucking ruined me.”
Y/n was caught somewhere between a frown and a smile. Her worst fear and her greatest wish.
“Don’t leave, please,” Jamie pleaded, slipping his free hand around Y/n’s waist when she didn’t recoil at his touch. “I wanna be with you.”
Y/n’s sobs caused her whole body to shudder, which only made Jamie to pull her closer. She ended up enveloped in his arms, the only place she’d truly desired to be since the moment she’d left them.
Jamie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, trying to ease whatever pain and pour out his sentiments. The relief of holding her again was all-consuming and he reveled in it.
For a moment, they both realized what they could have. They could put the whole horrid separation behind them and let themselves be happy. They could come home to one another. They could hold nothing back from each other. They could build a life together and give each other all the love they’d ever been deprived of.
Where Jamie felt hope, cradling the girl he loved, Y/n felt panic, fearing the risk more than the loss.
“Jamie,” she whispered, “No.”
Jamie pulled back, fearfully gazing into her bloodshot eyes. “What do you mean?”
“No,” Y/n repeated, “We can’t.”
“Wh-“ he stammered, she was slipping away from him, “What are you talking about? We can.”
Y/n whined, “I can’t, Jamie. I can’t.”
“You can, you can,” Jamie insisted, holding Y/n’s cheek with purpose. He caught the headlights of the Uber coming down his street, “Why? Why can’t we have this?”
“Tell me,” Jamie softly begged, “Tell me why. Why can’t we have this?”
Finally, Y/n’s emotions burst, everything flooding out in a mess of terror.
“Because I don’t want this,” she exclaimed tearfully, “I don’t want this, Jamie. I don’t want y-“
She caught herself before she could finish it, but it was still too late. The damage had been done, and the wreckage spread across Jamie’s face. His lips parted in shock and his touch lost its urgency.
In her blind panic, Y/n hadn’t expected such a lie to come out of her mouth. But there was no taking it back, and the fear of all Jamie was ready to give was possessing her. This was the only way to keep herself safe.
Behind them, the Uber driver had pulled up to the house. “Oi, one of you Y/n?”
Y/n blinked up at Jamie, who was searching her eyes for the dishonesty in what she’d said. He found it so easily, but her determination to run was visibly clearer.
“Please let me go,” Y/n asked, her voice barely audible. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as she spoke.
Jamie knew there was no more fight to give. He’d poured the contents of his heart out to her fruitlessly. He couldn’t force her to face the truth, that she might love him back, or that she even cared that he loved her. He was out of plays to make, all he could do was let her walk away.
He dropped his hands as slow as he could, savoring the last feel of her he’d get. Y/n trembled as his fingers left her face, committing his touch to her memory. This was the end before they even reached the beginning.
“In or out, love,” the driver interrupted.
Summoning the last of her strength, Y/n sought out Jamie’s eyes, glistening with tears now. She’d dealt the ultimate blow to an already wounded soldier. Slowly, she backed away from him, fighting every urge to run back into his arms and take it all back. If he took one step towards her, she knew she’d do it.
Jamie obeyed her wishes and didn’t move.
With one final gaze, Y/n turned away, climbing into the backseat of the Uber. He didn’t wait to drive, pulling the car away from as soon as she’d shut the door.
Y/n watched Jamie in the rear view mirror before it became too much. She dissolved to silent wracking sobs, caving in on herself. Not only had she walked away from the man she knew she surely loved, but she’d broken his heart doing so. The self-destruction was no longer only affecting her, she was destroying those around her.
Jamie wiped a shaking hand over his face as he watched the car carry Y/n away. He struggled to comprehend all that had just happened. He’d lost her.
Somehow, he carried himself back inside. He shuffled robotically back into the living room. His mum and Simon were seated on the couch, speaking in hushed tones.
Georgie looked expectantly to her son. Jamie had never needed to talk about him and Y/n in so many words. She knew exactly what he felt. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Jamie stared ahead at the carpet.
“Did you talk to her?” Georgie asked, asking something far deeper.
Jamie nodded.
“Does she feel the same?”
There was the true answer, and there was the easy answer. Jamie chose the latter.
“No.”
——————
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