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Colin traces one of Callum’s tattoos lazily, lying next to him on his side. “I should get more tats,” he says softly.

Callum smirks. “Make you even hotter.”

Colin feels his cheeks warm and he smiles. He’s not used to getting compliments like this – more the posturing of acting like you know you’re hot, faking it till you make it stuff – but he’s getting better at it.

Callum looks at him. “You don’t have that many, no. I thought you footballers were big on them?”

Colin grins sheepishly. “I, uh, I’m not a huge fan of the needles. But I had to get some.”

Callum snakes a finger up to Colin’s bicep and ghosts it along the tattoo. “I love your dragon. Is this the one on the flag?”

“Yep,” he says, proudly. “Y ddraig goch!”

Callum looks up at him, with a heavy-lidded smile. “That shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. It’s almost all consonants.”

Colin chuckles. “Don’t blame me, you’re the one that finds it hot.”

“Unfortunately,” Callum says, with a rueful grin, and pulls him down into a kiss.

***

“Ok, I really have to go, I’m gonna be late. Roy will yell at me,” he says, half-heartedly pulling away from kissing Callum. They’re in the hallway, and they’ve gotten as far as the front door, and he really needs to get to training. And Callum needs to get to band practice. But on the other hand, being late to work so he can keep kissing his very cute boyfriend also seems like a tempting prospect.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta get to practice,” Callum says, and kisses him again.

Colin laughs into it. “No, no, stop it.”

Callum laughs, and he pulls away a bit. “Hi,” he says, eyes twinkling.

Colin grins. “Stop!”

“What?” Callum says, amused and feigning confusion.

“You know what you’re doing, with the accent and the smile and the eyes, ok, boyo,” he says, knowing he’s losing the fight already because Callum is tall, and is leaning over him and grinning in a very cute way and he’s never going to get out the front door at this rate.

“You’re not helping,” Callum says, yawning and kissing him with no thought to the laps Colin’s going to have to run to make up for his lateness. “Say boyo again.”

“No,” he says, laughing. He pulls away and takes a breath. “We have to go. We’re going now, ok?”

“Boo,” Callum says. “Alright. Fine. Killjoy.”

Colin rolls his eyes, grinning, and finally opens the door.

There’s a quaint little path down from the stairs that start from his front door. The path ends, not far away, at a little gate. It’s high enough, and the greenery hides his comings and goings mostly. Not that people usually care about his comings and goings. They walk down it together, and pause on the street, looking at each other.

Colin’s grateful it’s early. There isn’t anyone around at this time of the morning, usually.

Callum looks at him, smiling affectionately. “So, uh, what are you up to tonight?”

Colin smirks back at him. “I’m hoping I’ll get to see this really fit Australian guy, so maybe we can catch up another night?” he teases.

Callum laughs heartily. “Motherfucker,” he says, grinning. “I’ll see you tonight, you dickhead.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, grinning.

Callum looks at him in a funny, affectionate way, and then swoops into to give him a brief kiss. It quickens Colin’s pulse, making him nervous but kind of excited, too.

He tries to scold Callum, even though he’s too fond. “Cal! Public!”

Callum scoffs. “We’re barely outside, and it’s like six-forty-five. No-one’s around.”

Colin sighs dramatically, but can’t hide entirely hide how giddy he is. “Ok, just this once though.”

“I’m sorry, you just looked too cute,” Callum says.

Colin grins. “Ok, I’ll allow it.”

He looks at Callum. “You want a lift? I think you’re on the way?”

Callum laughs. “In your nightmare machine? I like you very much, but I won’t do that.”

Colin nods. “That’s probably a good call,” he concedes.

“I’ll see you later,” Callum says, grinning, and walks off. Colin watches him go, knowing he’s smiling like an idiot but unable to stop.

***

Trent Crimm – the Independent – is drinking a terrible mug of instant coffee and wondering if he can be fucked to go down the road for an actual coffee. It’d probably be good to get out of the office, but he has a story he has to finish and he’d prefer to just push on, fueled by spite and bad office coffee.

He’s not feeling very inspired today, though. The offices of the Independent are in their usual organised chaos, and he focuses on a flickering fluorescent light in the ceiling, frowning. If he’s honest, he’s been feeling somewhat restless lately. He loves The Independent, or he has loved it, or something – but something is reacting in him lately, missing in a way it didn’t used to.

Nigel is heading towards him with a big smirk on his round face. Trent’s heart sinks. Nigel’s mostly harmless, but he’s also mostly obnoxious and Trent makes a point of not socialising with him if he can avoid it – not only for his terrible football opinions, but also his fatuous political ideologies.

“Hey mate,” Nigel says in his posh-but-attempting-working-class-vibe, leaning on his desk and smirking. Go right ahead, Trent doesn’t offer. He realises he probably shouldn’t throw stones at anyone for being posh, but Nigel really is a prat, so he doesn’t feel too guilty. “You’re on the AFC Richmond beat, yeah?”

Trent nods curtly. “I am.” Like this is a surprise, he’s only been at this paper forever. Since before Nigel, certainly.

Nigel smirks even wider, and something in his expression makes Trent’s stomach drop. He’s excited about something, which can’t be good. “Don’t say I never do nothing for you,” he says, with the air of someone cradling something juicy. “I have an exclusive for you. Guarantee no one will have it yet.”

Trent looks at him sceptically. “You didn’t get someone to go through a player’s bin again did you? Because it wasn’t exactly the scoop of the century to know that Tartt drinks a lot of milk, apparently.”

Nigel chuckles. This is more worrying, he’s in a good mood. “Nope. You know how my aunt lives over in Twickenham?”

“Sure,” Trent lies, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Well, sometimes I get up early to drive her into town for work, before I come in here,” he continues, and Trent has to work not to interrupt and ask why any of this is relevant. Nigel grins, and drops his voice. “So, apparently, one of your boys lives there too – right near my aunt, basically neighbours. What are the chances?” he chuckles.

“What indeed,” Trent says, thinking he’s going to fling his lukewarm instant coffee at Nigel if he doesn’t get to the point soon.

Nigel nods. “So, I’m in my car this morning, waiting for my aunt to come out of the house, and I see her famous neighbour doing something very interesting.”

Trent has to admit, as much as he dislikes Nigel, he is curious now. “Who is it?”

Nigel smirks. “See for yourself,” he says, holding out his camera to Trent.

Trent’s sure that Nigel just happened to be in the same place by accident to see something interesting and conveniently had his professional camera with him to capture it, but that’s another an issue. Honestly most of the players don’t seem interesting enough to stalk, in Trent’s opinion, even though they seem like mostly good young men and they make a good team. But if that’s how Nigel feels like he needs to get a story, that’s his problem.

Looking at the photo, his casual flippancy is replaced with a cold, painful feeling in his chest. For a moment, he’s twenty-two, and going for his first writing job out of uni, and afraid for the first time in a while of what people might figure out about him. Unsure who to trust. He’s sitting with his Dad, watching TV and feeling like he’ll never be able to be honest with him.

A few photos, taken across the street from a car but unfortunately clear enough. Two young men. The first few could be mistaken for friendly bonhomie – football players, for such a toxically masculine sport, are very affectionate with each other. And their friends, maybe. Nothing to prove here really – until he gets to the last in the series, and his heart sinks lower than he thought possible.

Nigel has managed to capture a kiss between the two of them – just a quick one, seemingly, but enough to be photographed. His knee-jerk, older-gay reaction is frustration, why did you do this on the street? Where this could happen? But then he feels ashamed of himself. He’s not going to blame the victim, for kissing someone of the same gender on the street outside what Trent assumes is his house. And it must have been early, maybe he thought they weren’t in danger. They shouldn’t have been, he thinks, with a wave of righteous, upset fury.

He doesn’t know who it is for a moment – not one of the more well-known faces. But the height and the hair ring a bell and he thinks. It’s their left back – Hughes. God, he can’t be more than twenty-five or six, he thinks miserably. It suddenly seems so much younger than him. At that age he wasn’t publicly out, exactly. Maybe out to the right people, friends who were like him. His people. But not at work. Not in the late nineties and the turn of the millennium.

He looks at Nigel, keeping a cool expression on. “What do you want for it, then?”

Nigel smiles greasily. “You’ve got press tickets to the Arsenal game right? You give me those, I’ll send you the pictures exclusively. I won’t touch ‘em.”

Trent considers this. “Sure,” he says. “But I want the memory card. Not to cast aspersions on your character or anything, Nigel, but if I’m doing this story I don’t want someone to scoop me. Is that alright?”

Nigel looks mildly surprised, but takes it out and hands it to him. “Whatever you need, mate. I just cleared off everything else important off it, so just get it back to me when you’re done.”

“Of course,” Trent drawls.

Nigel’s eyes glint, but not with mocking toward him. He’s actually almost excited, if that’s not a stomach churning thought. “This could be big for you, Crimm. Breaking a story like this would be history-making.” He grins. “Alright, I’ll let the genius get back to work.”

“Right,” he says, not really concentrating. He sits back in his chair, staring off into space.

He couldn’t break this story. It would just be idle gossip, right? Cruel. Unrelated to the sport, which is what he reports on.

But, says a little voice in his head. Clearly the cat’s out of the bag. Sooner or later a photo like this will be taken, and it might make it into the hands of someone who wouldn’t take half the care you would.

He stares at the little SD card in his hand, then sits up. He has to get in touch with someone.

***
Colin’s just walking to get a drink from the café at work when Keeley comes over to say hi.

“How goes it?” he asks, smiling.

“Great, busy. But it’s good,” she says, looking happy. “How goes training?”

He nods. “Good. Tiring. But good,” he replies.

“You’re just the man I wanted to see, actually,” she says chirpily.

“Oh?” he says, pleasantly surprised.

She looks at him, kind of curious. “Actually, I got a call for you before.”

“For me?” he says, now even more surprised. “From who?”

“Trent Crimm?” Keeley says. She seems a little confused by it, too, but she smiles widely. “Maybe he wants to do a story on you? Or maybe he knows someone who wants to do a profile or something?” she suggests, excitedly.

He grins, imagining it for a moment. But something gnaws at him. He knows that his skillset is football, and not thinking things through or much at all. Unfortunately. But even he knows it would be highly unlikely that someone wanted to do a piece on him, and him alone. It’s not like he’s really stood out on the pitch this season, or anything. If anything, he’d expect someone to be interested in Sam.

“Aw, what is it?” Keeley asks, seeing his face fall.

“I don’t know,” he says, uneasily. “But Trent’s one of those serious news guys, right? Why’s he suddenly interested in me?”

Keeley bites her lip, looking thoughtful. She eyes the café – mostly empty – and lowers her voice. “You think it’s because of that?”

His stomach churns at the thought. “I really fucking hope not.”

She looks worried. “I don’t have to give him your number, Colin. I haven’t gotten back to him yet.”

He shakes his head. “No, I think – give him my details. It’s going to drive me nuts if I don’t know.”

She nods, her ponytail bobbing. “Hey, I’m sure it’s fine,” she says, smiling sympathetically. Her eyes still look worried, though.

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah.”

She pats his arm, and then heads off, leaving him in the café with an uneasy feeling he tries to quiet.

***

Hi Colin – this is Trent Crimm. From the Independent. Do you think we could arrange a time to meet? I have something that I’d like to talk about you personally with. Feel free to contact me on this number, or my work phone which is –

Colin rereads it for the fiftieth time since he’d gotten it this afternoon.

“It’s weird right?” he asks Callum, sitting next to him on the couch and showing him the screen of his phone. “That he wants to talk to me personally. That almost never happens, Cal, I’m a bloody leftback.”

Callum shrugs. “I still don’t know what a leftback is, sorry – “

“Oh my god,” Colin groans. “I explained it to you!”

Callum laughs sheepishly. “I’m not good at remembering!” He grins at Colin. “But hey, I would do a whole feature on you. Maybe he wants to?”

This placates him briefly and he smiles. “I don’t know, it feels very unlikely. What if it’s…about me? Us?” he says, frowning.

Callum shakes his head. “Come on, stop worrying for now,” He says, smiling and pulling Colin over to lie against his chest. He kisses the top of his head

Colin tries to relax as they put something on TV, but the anxiety nags at him, in the depths of his gut.

***

Colin drums his fingers nervously on the kitchen counter. Trent had said he'd be coming at 5, and it's currently 4:59.

If he'd had any other option he wouldn't have invited Trent to have the meeting here, at his house, but Trent had told him that while they were free to meet up at a pub, he might want some more privacy than would be afforded at somewhere like the Crown & Anchor. Which did nothing to calm his anxiety about the whole thing.

It did make him glad he hadn't told the boys about it. Whatever it was he didn't think he wanted them to know he was meeting with a reporter like Trent, who knew something private about him. His stomach flips again at the thought. There's nothing else it could be.

Well, he'd told Moe. Moe was more nervous about it than Callum had been, maybe because he was more aware of just how horrible it would be for them, for that secret to get out, especially not on his own terms. He had been the one to suggest that they meet at Colin’s, if it was about what they feared – no need for anyone else to overhear them. Not that it matters that much, he’s not a great liar, and if Trent asks him he’ll probably know immediately from his answer. And then he’ll write about it and Colin’s whole life will be over. Colin groans and rubs his face.

The front gate phone buzzes, making him jump. He gulps. Alright, showtime.

He answers it. “Hi, it’s Trent Crimm. The Independent,” says Trent on the green-hued front door camera, like Colin’s forgotten who he works for, and why that’s about to ruin his life.

“Right, come on up,” he says, trying to project adult confidence and hoping Trent can’t hear how much he’s faking it. Dr Fieldstone had already told him she was leaving soon, but would be contactable by phone, within reason. He could’ve called her, but he didn’t want to bother her with it – it wasn’t like she was going to stop it.

He takes a deep breath and remembers his mantra.

There’s a knock at his door, and he walks over to it and opens it. Trent Crimm is standing there, looking sombre and professional. They’ve never had so much as a conversation – there being more high profile players to try and get quotes from – but Colin has to admit, he has ridiculously good hair for a middle-aged reporter. If he himself tried to grow it out like that he’d just look like a tit.

“Hello Colin. I appreciate you inviting me over,” he says politely in his deep, posh accent.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, trying not to be nervous. Even though he’s more nervous than he’s been before some of their biggest and most important games. “Come in, then.”

Trent nods, and follows him inside. He’s not betraying any sign of what he’s about to say. He doesn’t seem – excited, which is good, maybe. There are definitely some fucks in the press room who would be gleeful if they had a secret of yours to put in an exclusive.

“You can sit on the couch, or at the table, if you want. I don’t know why I have that table, I never have time to eat at it,” he says, and half-laughs. Be cool, he scolds himself.

“Why don’t we sit at it, then?” Trent says, polite again. Still betraying nothing.

“Sure,” he agrees. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got tea, or beer, or some kombuchas that Moe brought over, but I haven’t touched because they’re nasty mushroom garbage water –“ he says and stops himself rambling. “But if you’d like one, cool.”

Is that the hint of a smile? Maybe? “A glass of water? If you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” he says, politely, and goes into the kitchen. He can see the dining table from it, and watches Trent Crimm setting up at it as he fills a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge. What do you want? he thinks at him. Why are you here? Please let it be for any other reason.

He brings the glass back out and sets it down where Trent is sitting and sits down across from him. He’s glad they’re sitting at the table. It feels kind of like protection to have it between them.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Trent says. More polite small talk. It makes him even more nervous.

“It’s not mine,” he says, automatically. “I mean, I rent it.”

Trent looks mildly curious. “You don’t think you’ll stay in London?”

He’s surprised by the question. “No, I – I like London. Mostly. Pretty much all my friends are here,” he says, thinking about it. “But it’s owning land in England that I have to think about.”

Trent actually laughs. Not uproariously, but like he’s surprised as well. “Fair point,” he says.

He’s still nervous, but it’s broken a bit of the tension in the room.

Trent looks at him. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to do this privately instead of over dinner or at the pub, or something like that.”

“Ah, yeah,” Colin lies. He knows why, almost certainly, but he can’t say that.

Trent nods, and pulls something up on his phone. “This is you, correct?”

He slides his phone over and Colin picks it up. And then an ice-cold jolt of fear rockets through his stomach. It’s him. And Callum. He could try to deny it, but there are several photos. Even if he could deny that there’s anything romantic about the photos – you know, the way you look at a same-sex friend like you haven’t just spent the last half hour kissing them while trying to get ready to leave – there’s the money shot, of them kissing. And if he could deny it was him doing the kissing, there’s the other photos where it’s clearly him. These can’t have been taken too long ago, the only time they’ve ever kissed on the street was the other morning. Fuck.

He has a lot of things he wants to say, but the thing that comes out first is, “Did you take these?”

Trent doesn’t look happy. He looks almost – sympathetic? But that’s bullshit, if it is. Sorry to out you publicly, mate, isn’t life a bitch? Fuck that.

“No,” he says, seriously. “They were taken by a colleague who gave them to me, because Richmond’s my beat.”

Colin feels sick. He’d felt bad before, but he hadn’t known Trent knew. He’d feared he did, but it’s somehow worse that it’s here in undeniable, full colour proof.

“So they know too? How they fuck did they…” he says, trailing off in horrified confusion. He looks at Trent. How doesn’t really matter, even though he’d like to know how the guy (or woman, he supposes) knew how to be there so early. He must have been in a nearby car or something. Was it accident, or did he know already? But that’s not really important. There’s only one important question here. “So this is, what, a courtesy visit? You’re going to write a story about it?” he says and feels an immense feeling of bitterness. “You know, you’re a sports writer. This has got nothing to do with it, and I know you all fucking love to pry into our personal lives, but I’m not hurting anyone, and it’s not like it stops me doing my job, which is really all you should care about – and which, you’ve never given a shit about me professionally until I’m suddenly interesting because of who I’m – “

“Colin, Colin, please,” Trent says, putting a hand up to stop his rant. “I’m not going to write about it.”

Colin looks at him, completely dumbfounded. “What?”

Trent looks back at him. He has a very steady gaze, like an ancient King. Like Colin imagined Brenin Arthur, when he was a little kid, and Mum would read stories about him before bed. “I’m not going to publish the photos either.”

Colin stares back at him, aware his mouth is hanging open in a probably-stupid looking way, but he’s too stunned to close it. “Why?” he says, after a moment. “Not to try and convince you, but I feel like…this would be a big deal to publish, right? I don’t think there are any openly gay players in this league. Certainly not in the Premier.” He chews on it, trying to figure out what he’s meaning to say. “You don’t know me. Why would you do this for me?”

Trent looks a little sad, and nods slightly. “I mean, human decency, for one,” he says, slowly. “But I guess, more than that…I’m gay. I know how scary it is, having to hide a part of yourself.” He takes his glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt. Colin watches the movement. He looks back at him. “I have a little daughter, with my ex-partner. She’s three. I don’t want to contribute to making the kind of world where people treat each other like this, for some kind of…imagined glory. I want her to grow up feeling safe in whoever she becomes.”

“Oh,” Colin says, simply. He still feels like he got hit by a truck and got back up. “Cool.” He thinks about something. “Did the guy who took the photos know you’re gay?”

Trent nods again. “Yes. I don’t talk about it a lot at work, but I don’t try to hide it.”

Colin frowns. “Is that why he thought you’d want to write it? Not just because of the team.”

Trent’s mouth goes thin for a moment. “I suspect so,” he says crisply.

“Prick,” Colin says, angry – surprisingly – for the both of them. He should be more grateful that he largely likes everyone he works with. Well, Nate had been a prick. But he’d apologised, at least.

“Rather,” Trent says, with a small upturn in his mouth.

 Something occurs to Colin, though he really shouldn’t be coming up with reasons for Trent to do the story. “Won’t your bosses be mad if you don’t write it?”

Trent looks at him, almost surprised. “I, ah, didn’t tell my editor about it.”

“Oh…thanks, I guess,” he says. It doesn’t feel real, almost. “Because you didn’t want to write the story?”

“Yes,” Trent says, thoughtfully. “And because, I guess,” he says, and pauses. “I didn’t become a journalist for this. I fell in love with it because I felt like it was important. But recently, it’s felt more and more like we’re just gossip-chasers, chasing down stories about people’s lives and acting like it’s related to how the sport gets played out. Sometimes it is, but how far is fair?”

“I guess I can see your point. Can you turn articles down?”

Trent looks conflicted. “You can, but you have to be – strategic. Some things are going to be reported on, one way or another. Especially once your bosses are aware. If you say no, they’ll give it to someone else, and you lose control of how it gets portrayed. And if it’s something important to you, at least you’ll be kind with it.”

Colin nods slowly. “So, you would’ve tried to be? If you did write it?”

Trent looks at him, almost – guilty? “I would’ve been as sympathetic as I could. I have to admit, as bad as it makes me look, I was thinking of writing it. You’re not wrong that it would have been a special kind of first to write about the first openly gay player in the league.” He says, with a look like there’s a bad taste in his mouth. “But you’re not openly gay. And I refuse to out anyone, public figure or not. I almost tried to convince myself that your outing was inevitable, and so at least if it came from me, I’d be kind about it. Better me than Ernie Lounds, or something. But I think that’s just bullshit journalists sometimes tell themselves to feel less accountable for what they choose to report on, and how they choose to do it. If it’s not me, it might be someone else – but that doesn’t mean I have any right to hasten the process. The only ethical choice, here, was to bury the story. Not because that means it’ll be gone forever, necessarily, but because I won’t have been the person who did that you. And I couldn’t live with myself, knowing who I am and what I value, if I did that to you.”

Colin breathes out. “Shit.” He appreciates that Trent seems suddenly interested in the wood of the table, giving him a moment to blink. “Thanks,” he says, quietly.

“It was the right thing to do,” Trent says. “So don’t worry.”

Colin is quiet for a moment. “What are you going to do with the photos?”

“Delete them,” Trent says, matter-of-factly. “And I got the memory card of the colleague that took them when he gave me the photos. Those photos aren’t going to be given to anyone else if I can help it.”

Colin watches him. “Well, thanks for that,” he says, and pauses. “I hope this doesn’t come off arsehole-y, but…if you weren’t going to write it, and you didn’t intend to keep the photos, why did you come here?”

Trent sighs. “I wondered if you’d ask me that.” He looks at Colin, sympathetically. “I really am sorry if my invitation to meet caused you some consternation, I realise now that I probably gave you a stressful past few days.”

Colin nods. “You could say that.”

Trent looks down. “It wasn’t my intention, but again, I am sorry.” He looks up again. “I guess I came here to warn you. I mean, it won’t be this time, these photos, but there might be another time, another reporter that doesn’t feel so strongly about outing you.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable. “I’m not saying this to freak you out, or to try and force you to do anything you’re not ready for. But I’d think about being honest with your friends at least, maybe even the team. They might surprise you. And you’ll want that support if you ever do decide to come out. Or something like this happens again. I needed my people when I did. I was around your age.”

Colin considers it. Something small and ashamed fights its way out of his mouth, against his will. “What if they don’t like me anymore?”

Trent looks at him, steadily but with kind eyes. “Then, fuck ‘em. You don’t owe them anything but what you do as part of the team,” he says, straightforwardly. He smiles a little. “But seeing the way you all support each other on the pitch, I don’t think they’ll disappoint you.”

Colin smiles. He sighs. “I don’t know, maybe it’s karma, or whatever. I haven’t…always been the nicest person. I’m trying to be better, though.”

“Well, that’s all you can do,” Trent says, with a smile. He runs a hand through his hair, looking a bit tired. It is really great hair.

***

He hears the gate buzz again, and sees that it’s Callum. He’d totally blanked that they were meeting up this afternoon, and guiltily buzzes him in.

He lets Callum in, avoiding kissing him until he’s fully in the house. Callum looks at him expectantly. “Well? How did it go?”

“Good, yeah,” he says, distractedly.

“Oh, great!” Callum says, smiling. “What did he want?”

“What did he want?” he repeats, not processing. “What did he want…”

“You ok, Col?” Callum says, giving him an odd look.

“Ok?” he repeats, slowly. “I um – he wanted to show me a photo. Few photos. Of us. Kissing.”

Callum’s face drains of colour. “Oh, fuck.” He looks at Colin, worriedly. “Is he going to run them? You don’t seem as freaked out as I’d have thought.”

“No, he’s not…going to. He deleted the photos,” Colin says vaguely.

“Oh. Isn’t that good, though?” Callum asks, confused.

“It is,” Colin says, and looks at him properly. “But I just keep feeling like I danced really close to my whole life getting blown up.” He swallows. “And I’m mad at you, and I don’t want to be. I didn’t even realise it until right now.”

“Mad at me?” Callum says, taken aback. “For what?”

Colin frowns. “You always act like I’m crazy paranoid, Callum! Like no one’s watching me, and it wouldn’t matter if they did. And I like you so much that I let you push my boundaries, but it turns out, I’m not crazy – someone was watching us! And maybe it would have been suspicious anyway, but all I’ve ever asked is we’re careful in public, and you – didn’t listen to me. You kissed me anyway, and I let you, and it almost ruined my life!”

Callum looks like he’s been slapped. “Are you fucking kidding me, Colin? He didn’t even use them! You said he deleted them. How is this my fucking fault?”

Colin feels a hot surge of anger. “It’s not about whether he ended up using them! It’s about the fact you don’t respect my boundaries, and they might be stupid to you, but I don’t think I’m unreasonable to want to protect my private life! And that includes protecting you, you know?”

Callum’s eyes narrow. “Oh, fuck off, this has never been about me! And I’m sorry I’ve apparently been doing such a bloody shit job of dating you, but I always let you pick where we go for dates, if we go out at all, because I’ve been trying to respect your fucking boundaries.” He stares at him, eyes watering. “You won’t meet my friends. I’ve been allowed the privilege of meeting two of yours, only because they already know. Oh, and your best friend who I would’ve never met if you’d had your way.”

“I told you this was how it was with me, Cal!” he retorts, upset. “There were so many times you could’ve bailed if you didn’t like it.”

“That’s what a bloody sane person would’ve done!” Callum fires back. “But I’m clearly not, because I like you and I keep convincing myself I can date someone who is so ashamed of themselves they can’t kiss me in public!”

That stings. “I’m not ashamed, I’m fucking wary!” Colin says, and his vision swims for a moment. “I’ve read up on it, you know what the legacy is for openly gay footballers in the league? If your teammates are cool with it, and that’s a big fucking if, you’re signing yourself up for a shit-ton of abuse from fans, every game, day in day out. The only Premier League player I know of that was openly gay suffered that, and then he experienced so much negative press he fled the country and later killed himself. His name was Justin Fashanu, look it up.” He takes a ragged breath. “You might say that was the nineties, and it’s different now, but it’s an old sport. It hasn’t moved on nearly as much as you’d want.”

A tear escapes Callum’s eye and rolls down his face. His eyes look red. “I am really sorry that’s the world you live in. I wish it was different for you,” he says, shakily. “But if you came out, and your teammates were supportive, and the fans were cool about it, would you be? Would you walk down the street holding my hand? Would you kiss me outdoors?”

“I – I don’t know!” Colin says, frustrated and upset. “I want to be. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t offer you that. And if you’re waiting for me to magically be that at some point soon, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Right,” Callum says, tonelessly. He’s silent for a long moment. “I – um, think I should go, I think it’d be good for us to have a night away from each other.”

Colin wants to say, hey, stay or one night or more like I’ll never see you again? Or please tell me I’ll see you again. I miss you already. But he doesn’t. “Ok.”

Callum looks at him for a long, sad moment, doesn’t say anything and turns to leave. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket yet.

Colin walks heavily back into the living room and sinks into the couch, feeling like he wants to cry but his tears are trapped behind his eyes. He thinks about calling Moe for support, but then he remembers Moe is hanging out with Thierry and Isaac, and fuck if he wants Isaac to know about this.

He looks at his phone, selects a name and calls. “Hey, I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue – yeah actually, I’ve had a pretty bad fight with Cal and I feel like shit and I could really use a friend, and I – ok, thanks so much, I’ll see you soon.”

He picks up his keys and his jacket and heads out.

***

Colin knocks on the front door. A few seconds later, Keeley opens it. She immediately looks sympathetic. “Aw, hon. C’mere.”

She pulls him into a hug. “Come in, time for a drink I think.”

“Thankyou,” he says heavily.

He follows her in, looking around. He’s never really been to her place. It’s nice. Modern. Something occurs to him. “Roy’s not here, is he?”

She smiles. “No, he’s out at the pub with a friend. Shouldn’t be back for a while.”

He breathes a relieved sigh. “I mean, not that he’s not a great coach and all, but –“

“It’d be a bit hard to explain?” she agrees.

He nods. “Yeah.”

She gets a strange look for a moment, half-smiling. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Plus with everything lately, I just – think it would be easier not to have to explain.”

“What’s happened lately?” he asks.

She smiles, embarrassed, and shakes her head. “Oh – nothing.” She picks up an unopened bottle from the counter. “Red ok?” 

He lets it go, but it’s worrying. If they can’t make it work, what hope does anyone else have? “Red’s great.” He’d not taken the Lambo here, which was probably the right decision. He’s a bad enough driver completely sober.

She pours them two glasses and then brings them over to the coffee table, and sits down next to him on the couch. “So, I’m guessing Trent didn’t want to profile you?” she says, apprehensively.

“Nope,” he says.

“What did he say?”

He looks at her. “You don’t have to be worried. It was about me. And Cal. But he’s not going to run it.”

Keeley looks surprised. “Really? He’s generally pretty tenacious, I thought.”

Colin nods. “Apparently we have more in common than I thought.”

Keeley picks up on this quickly and looks unsurprised. “Yeah, that tracks.” She cocks her head a little. “So, if he wasn’t going to give you a heads up on the article, why’d he come over?” She raises an eyebrow.

He grimaces when he realises her implication. “He’s like Ted’s age, Jesus, Keeley.”

Keeley chuckles.

“Great hair, though.”

Keeley nods dreamily. “Great hair though.”

“We actually had a good chat. I think he came over to warn me, generally. A colleague of his gave him photos of me kissing Cal outside my house,” Colin starts.

Keeley gasps. “Oh no! But you were so careful!”

Colin sighs. “I tried to be.”

“What’s he going to do with the photos?”

Colin shakes his head. “No, he got the only copies off the guy, and deleted them. So it’s fine, I guess,” he says, dully.

Keeley frowns. “Fucking photographers. People have gone through my bloody rubbish bin before, you know?”

“Where do they get off?” he asks, angry for her.

“I know!” she says, annoyed too. “I’m sorry that happened to you though, it must have been scary. That really sucks.”

He nods. “Yep.”

She looks at him softly. “Is that why you had the fight?”

He nods again and takes a sip of his wine. “I know it can’t be the easiest thing in the world to date me,” he says, with a sudden surge of bitterness. “But I told him, from the start, this is who I am and what I do, and I’m kind of a mess. He can’t say he didn’t know. And he was always the one pushing the boundaries, like, come out to the club, meet my friends, lets go to this public place together. I don’t kiss people in the street, even in the early morning, but I let him kiss me because I started thinking he was right, and I was being paranoid because no one actually would care about me enough to follow me around.”

Keeley frowns. “Well for one, you have lots of people who care that much about you. And second, while I don’t think it’s his fault some creep was stalking you, I’m kind of annoyed at him.” She pauses. “I’ve gone to games since I was a teenager, Colin, I’ve heard the worst kind of things shouted at players. As far as I’m concerned, it’s very fair to want to keep it to yourself. And it’s not helpful for him to act like you’re being dramatic.”

“Exactly!” Colin says, feeling bitter but vindicated. “And I like him so much. But he said he doesn’t want to be with someone who’s ashamed of themselves, and I didn’t think I was, I thought it was a self-preservation thing and one day I’d be able to just be myself fully. But what if – “ he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “What if I am?”

He blinks, and she puts down her wine to pat his arm consolingly. “Hey, hey – this is what my therapist said to me once, and I’m going to share it with you. We’ve all got more shame than we’d like to have. It makes us do weird things to get away from it. You don’t have to get rid of it totally, you just need to come to terms with it.”

He nods. “Fuck,” he says, and takes a sip of wine. “Thanks. For being such a good friend, I know you’re busy. It’s nice to have friends who get it.”

She smiles. “Of course. And I wasn’t busy tonight, so don’t worry.”

He smiles.

She looks at him empathetically and doesn’t speak for a moment. “I know it’s not the same, exactly, but I guess…I dated both boys and girls in school, you know? I thought I was pretty comfortable with myself. But then I was dating footballers at eighteen, and I started modelling, and it became like, this thing I felt weird telling people about. Because like, I felt like, I’d tell guys and they’d get all gross and excited like, oh does this mean we can have a threesome with your friend, yeah?” She frowns. “And it’s not like I’m against the idea of threesomes, but like, my sexuality means something to me. It’s not just a fucking…sexual fantasy for some straight guy.”

He shakes his head. “That’s shit, I’m sorry. But yeah, straight people like to make it all about sex, don’t they?”

“They’re obsessed,” Keeley says, with a chuckle. “Is it because they’re imagining the opposite of their relationships?” She laughs. “No, that’s mean.”

He laughs. “Fuck ‘em. Like we don’t fall in love, and get our fucking..hearts broken, like anyone else,” he says, and suddenly he’s hit by it again.

She puts her arms around him. “Aw, hon. I’m sure you can fix it.”

He sighs and looks at her. “I don’t know if I can. Or I..should.”

“Well, you should try and talk to him, when you’re both feeling calmer,” she suggests.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. He looks at her empathetically. “So, you really don’t have to say if you don’t want. But what’s going on with you and Roy lately?”

She sighs, looking sad. “It’s weird – I guess I should explain. Jamie said he still loved me at the funeral –“

“What?” Colin can’t help interrupting. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t get a chance to reply at the funeral, but I did see him later, at work, and we smoothed it out,” she says, awkwardly. “But then I’d gone too long without telling Roy, and he and Jamie had actually been getting along, and I didn’t want to make him mad, or tell him about it when it didn’t mean anything other than the funeral got to Jamie in a weird way.”

Colin nods. “Yeah, I totally get that. Not to be selfish here, but it’s better for the team when they’re not at each other’s throats.” He thinks. “Is that why Roy’s been a bit off this week?”

Keeley looks guilty at this, and he regrets saying it. “Oh I’m the worst girlfriend, right?”

“No way,” he says. “Didn’t his last girlfriend steal his watch?”

She smiles a little. “True.” Her smile slips. “But then, and I have to categorically state that this was totally just a misunderstanding between friends, I went shopping with Nate and y’know, there was free alcohol, and we were having a good time looking at suits, and he kissed me.”

“What?” he repeats, more annoyed. Jamie probably shouldn’t have done what he did, but they had dated. And he hadn’t tried to kiss her. The thought of Nate doing that is making him unexpectedly mad.

“No, it was fine, it happens,” she says, a little too cheerily. He suddenly wonders whether it wasn’t the first time she’d had something like it happen – who knows what happens in the modelling world, especially when you’re not doing super high-end stuff – and whether she’d had to learn this kind of unbothered, things happen, response. It makes him hurt, strangely. He doesn’t have sisters, or even other siblings, and he doesn’t have a lot of female friends, so she’s kind of the closest thing he has to that. And it makes him want to protect her, even though it’s not like she needs it from him. She’s more of a badass any day.

“It happens because someone does it, Keeley,” he replies. “Unless he was blind drunk, which I doubt, he made a choice to kiss you. And isn’t he friends with Roy? Or he works very closely with him. And he’s friends with you. And instead of thinking about that, he only thought about what he wanted, and that makes me…mad for you. It’s selfish.”

Keeley frowns. “That’s really sweet, but you know Nate, he’s a good guy. He just had a lapse in judgement.”

He frowns. “I don’t think we were friends at this point, so I might not have told you, but as much as he’s mostly a nice guy, he has a mean streak. And maybe I deserved it, I used to give him shit sometimes, but Dr Fieldstone said regardless of how they feel about you personally, your bosses shouldn’t bully you.”

“Bully?” Keeley says, looking concerned. “What did he do?”

Colin shrugs. “It’s probably not fair to bring up, because he apologised, and I forgave him and we’re good now, but – he was just like, picking on me for a while. He said some pretty mean things to me, that I don’t think he dared to say to Isaac or Jamie, even though they gave him just much shit as me –“ he breaks off. “It’s not like I think he’s some evil guy or anything. Maybe he was having a hard week. But I just don’t like hearing that he did that, because I know he’s capable of some shitty things.”

Keeley frowns. “I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress. But yeah, he shouldn’t have done that. That sucks.” She sighs. “I don’t even know how I feel. I guess I’m not that mad. I know it sounds bad, but it’s not the worst pass a guy I’m not interested in has made at me. Like, don’t worry about me, but I just – knew it was an awkward situation, and I didn’t want to have to be mad at him. Or bring that home with me.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Colin says. “I’m sorry guys are so shit sometimes.”

She nods. “I think you understand that, anyway.”

He grimaces and takes a sip of wine. “And how.” He looks down. “I just…I don’t know how we’re going to work. I mean, I really care about him. But I just – we’re in such different places. And maybe he doesn’t really get what’s important to me. And maybe I can’t give him what he wants.”

“Maybe, but I hope not,” she says, kindly. “Do you love him?”

He shrugs, and feels his eyes watering, embarrassingly. “I – I don’t know. Maybe? It’s so soon. And I don’t know if we’re going to work. But I feel like – strongly, about him. Otherwise I wouldn’t feel so shit right now,” he says, and sniffs.

“Aw, hon,” she says, and throws her arms around him again.

“Excuse me, what the fuck is this?” comes a familiarly gruff voice. It doesn’t sound thrilled.

Oh shit. He’s gonna headbutt me again, and this time I didn’t say anything dickish, he thinks, panicking.

Keeley lets go of him and looks at Roy, sprung. “I thought you were out with Damo?”

He frowns. Those eyebrows are no joke. “He had to go home early because his wife texted about a drama with one of their kids.” He glares at Colin, who feels himself recoiling involuntarily. Maybe if Keeley’s here she can step in to call an ambulance before Roy kicks him to death. “What the fuck’s he doin’ here, Keeley?”

“He had a PR issue he wanted to talk about,” Keeley tries. She’s not technically lying, he supposes.

“Which required you to discuss it outside of work, at your house, when you could hug him while I’m not here?” Roy asks, descending further and further into gruffness. Soon it’ll just be grunts. He’s seen it happen. “Since when are you two so fuckin’ close?”

“Ah, we’re friends,” Keeley says, eyes wide. “And what are you suggesting?”

Roy frowns even more. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet. “It’s not exactly the most innocent set up I’ve walked in on, is it?” He turns again to Colin, and finally addresses him. “If you’re thinking of confessing your love for my girlfriend, mate, I’d think about how much you value your fuckin’ kneecaps.”

“Roy!” Keeley chides, frustrated. “You’ve gotten this all wrong, and you’re threatening a friend of mine now.”

“Oh, is it?” Roy says, sarcastically.

“Roy, Keeley’s been a great friend, but I’m not in love with her – “

“You think I’d trust you?”

“I’m not in love with her, because –“

“Colin!” Keeley says, worriedly. “Don’t. Roy’s out of line.”

Roy growls.

Colin looks at her. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to tell the rest of them soon, anyway.”

Roy looks a slight amount confused, but still very angry.

He sighs. Fuck, he thinks. Here goes.

He looks at Roy and tries not to cringe away. “I’m gay, mate. She’s been helping me through a crisis with some photos that were taken of me. Outside my house. With…the guy I’m seeing.”

Roy looks momentarily floored. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Keeley says, glaring at him.

He looks suddenly very apologetic, surprisingly. “I’ve just been a massive tit, then, right?”

“You have,” Keeley says, with feeling.

Colin feels like he should be mad but it kind of felt good, strangely. This is the first time he’s told someone not In the same situation, and he’s glad he did.

Roy looks at him, seriously. His expression is softer than expected. “Mate, I’m so sorry. Sorry I made you feel like you had to tell me that. I’d like to think I’m better than that. Most days.” He looks thoughtful. “I’ve just been a bit weird this week. Obviously, I won’t say a word.”

Colin really hadn’t been expecting this level of sincere apology. But he’d seen the hug he’d given Jamie. Maybe Roy was actually a lot softer than any of them realised. Well, he’s stiff gruff – but soft gruff. “I – thanks. It’s ok, I’m thinking of telling the boys sometime soon. Sick of keeping it a secret.”

“They’ll be good about it,” Roy says, with a small smile. “And if any of ‘em aren’t, I’ll knock their heads together. We’re a team, we support each other.”

He smiles, and really hopes he’s not tearing up right now. In front of Roy and everything. “Thanks,” he croaks.

Roy turns to Keeley, just as apologetic – but there’s something about the way he looks at her. He just truly loves her, it completely transforms him. Kind of amazing to see.“I’m so sorry, babe. I know that was really shit of me, it just threw me that you didn’t tell me about this. I panicked, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

She’s tearing up, but she smiles. “Well, thankyou. How could I stay mad when you said such kind things to Colin, though?”

He smiles, and it really is amazing the way his face looks different. He’s only seen it a few times, during wins. She gets up to kiss him.

He smiles. “I should probably head home, it’s been a long day.”

“Are you sure?” Keeley asks, kindly. “You can stay.”

“You can, mate,” Roy says. “I’m over it. Feel free.”

He shakes his head. “Thanks, mate. But I’m pretty tired.” He blinks, just from the tiredness. It’s suddenly hitting him.

“You’re not thinking of driving?” Roy asks.

“No, I didn’t drive. I’ll get a cab,” he replies.

“You want a lift?” Roy asks abruptly, and Keeley looks surprised.

“Are you offering because you feel guilty?” he asks, and is surprised at his own boldness.

“Of fucking course,” Roy says, gruffly but not unkindly. “You want it?”

“Sure,” he agrees.

“Alright then,” Roy says. Colin hugs Keeley, who is grinning, and follows Roy out.

***

They don’t talk for three days. Colin would’ve liked to see him earlier, but with work and everything, he doesn’t get away until three days after their argument. He leaves training to drive straight to Callum’s apartment. It feels uncomfortably like déjà vu, walking up the steps anxiously, so he can apologise. But last time, he’d felt completely in the wrong. This time – although he may have gone about it wrong – he feels a little more justified.

He takes a breath and is about to knock, when he hears a voice behind him. “Colin?”

He turns round. Callum is standing in the hallway, motorbike helmet under one arm.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I was just going to knock and it’s just occurring to me that I didn’t check if you’d be home. Sorry.”

Callum looks caught-off guard, and tired, and like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “I guess you’d better come in, then.”

Colin is surprised. Last time he’d had to say his piece on the doorstep. It doesn’t feel good.

He follows Callum in.

They stand together awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Is anyone else here?” Colin asks.

Callum shakes his head. “Bel’s visiting her parents in Brighton. And Kareem’s at his girlfriend’s place this weekend.”

“Right,” Colin says. There’s another a silence. “Cal, I –“ he starts.

“No wait,” Callum says, looking torn up. “Before you say anything. I’m sorry. I think I was – hurrying you a bit. I didn’t like you telling me that, but I’ve been thinking about it, and that thing with the photos must have been really scary. I should have taken your fears more seriously, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Colin says, surprised again. “Thanks,” he says, with meaning. “That means a lot.”

Callum looks at him strangely, and smiles sadly.

There is a knot of anxiety growing in his stomach. Everything seems to be going well and yet, he has a bad feeling about it.

“I’m sorry I was a dick about it,” Colin starts. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“Thanks,” Callum says, and smiles a little more. But there’s still something in his eyes that’s sad, a bit far off. “I would never hurt you, Col. Intentionally, that is.”

“I know,” Colin says. He feels a surge of purpose. “But this whole experience, talking to Trent, our fight – it kind of inspired me. I think I’m gonna tell the team. I know it’s not everyone, but baby steps, y’know?” He smiles, hopefully, trying to gauge Callum’s reaction.

Callum tears up. “God, you’re amazing,” he says tightly, and pulls him into a hug. Colin’s slightly surprised again by the force of this reaction, but he’s feeling like he might cry too, so he appreciates it.

It’s a long hug. Maybe a few stray tears do escape his eyes and soak into Callum’s t-shirt. There’s something here, he thinks, we can’t break up over this right? This doesn’t feel like we’re breaking up.

Callum releases him finally, but they don’t move far from each other, connected at their foreheads and arms. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers. “But I hope you’re not doing it for me.”

Colin thinks about it. “You might have inspired it, partly. But I’m doing it for me.”

Callum smiles. “You’re gonna be unstoppable, Colin.”

Colin beams. “Thanks, Cal. I think you will be too, soon. When that band takes off.”

Callum smiles, kind of bitterly. “Ah, maybe.”

“What is it?” Colin asks, uneasy feeling snaking back into his stomach, just a little.

Callum takes a breath and looks at him. “My, um, my dad is in hospital. I got the call yesterday, and I’m going home for a bit.” 

Colin’s stomach drops. “I’m so sorry, Cal. How long are you going for?”

Callum sniffs. “I really don’t know, it could be fine, but it’s looking pretty bad right now and I just feel like I should be there with my family, because what the fuck am I doing here in London, when my Dad is –“ he says, tearing up again. His voice cracks.

Colin pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t know how he’d feel if his Dad suddenly got sick, although he thinks Lewis Hughes is the kind of man to outlive him through pure spite. He probably wouldn’t be this upset about it, but he can imagine how awful it would be if you had a normal relationship with your Dad. Maybe if it was his Mum. He’d drop everything to be with his Mum, if she was sick, even if there was a final on.

“I’m so sorry,” Callum says, when he pulls back.

“No, it’s fine,” Colin says, sympathetically.

“It’s not,” Callum says, tightly. “It’s not just a quick visit. I might be there for months. I’m trying to figure out whether to move out and if I should send my stuff home or put it in storage.”

“Oh,” Colin says, feeling – selfishly – disappointed. Of course, when you finally meet someone in this goddamn city, they have to go back home. “I could help with that, or something, if you wanted…”

Callum smiles a little. “That’s really kind of you. But I don’t want to put that burden on you.”

“I’m happy to have it,” Colin replies. He pauses. “I mean, I know it’ll be hard because of the time difference, and my schedule, and I know you’ll have to focus on your family first, but…we could try, y’know? To keep this going long-distance?”

Callum tears up and he throws his head back a little, looking at the ceiling. He sighs and looks back at Colin. “I wanna believe it, Col. Even with the stress, the time difference, the family stuff, your schedule, I wanna believe it would be worth it.” He takes a shaky breath. “I know I haven’t really known you that long, but I like you. God, I like you so much. I might even –“ he says, and breaks off. He stops himself, but Colin hurts like he’d said it out loud.

“So, why not?” he asks, and hates how small and needy his voice sounds. Swollen with emotions.

Callum looks at him in that strange, sad way again and moves forward to put his hand on Colin’s cheek. “Because I don’t want to break up with you in a few weeks, or a few months, over the phone because we’re tired of playing phone tag and trying to keep this thing going when I have no idea when I’ll be back, and you’re busy with work. It has to be your priority, and my Dad has to be mine. It hurts to much to think about doing that.”

“Yeah,” Colin says, quietly devastated, but aware he’s right. He doesn’t really want to figure out Australian time differences, and try and find time to talk around games and training. He doesn’t want to put more stress on Callum when he’s going through this painful experience already. “Is that all?”

Callum looks at him. “You’re sharper than people give you credit for,” he says, with a sad half-smile. “I guess…I was thinking about it, and I realised who you’re in love with. And it might’ve been me, in the future, but it isn’t now. So, what’s the point of us trying to make it work in an open-ended long-distance thing, it’s not fair on either of us.” 

Colin is floored. “What – I’m not – “ he says, and gulps.

“Your best friend, from the markets?” he says. “He’s your mystery hook-up, right?”

This is the thing that breaks him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to wipe his eyes, ineffectually. “I wish it’d never happened. I thought – I was over it.”

Callum smiles kindly. “Not your fault.” He gets a ghost of his usual grin. “A few more months, maybe and I might have stolen you away.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, throatily. “You would’ve.”

Callum gets a fierce look in his eye and takes Colin’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly.

They move blindly, wordlessly towards the bedroom. It’s alright. It’ll be alright. It’s just goodbye.

***

Colin knocks on Moe’s door, this time. Moe opens it and lets him in, and then hugs him tight, without him saying anything. He really isn’t able to hide his emotions well, which is probably why he should never play poker again.

Moe looks at him. “I’m really sorry, mate. I liked him.”

“Me too,” Colin says quietly. “Is what it is though.”

Moe nods wisely. “Well, I’m here to say fuck it, let’s drink. If you get too drunk to go in tomorrow I’ll tell Ted you got food poisoning from a dodgy Thai curry. And we can watch a comedy if you wanna laugh or a sad one if you wanna cry, I won’t judge. I’ll probably also cry.”

Colin laughs. “I’m really glad we’re friends.”

“Hey, me too,” Moe says, throwing a matey arm around his shoulder and steering him towards the living room.

***

He does go to training the next day, though.

At the end of the day, they’re all getting ready to go out, and Colin is sitting on the bench in front of his locker pulling on his trainers, when Richard asks him something.

“Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

He’s surprised that Richard noticed. He’s not generally particularly observant.

“Ah, yeah. Just a bit of a long night, thanks mate,” he tries.

“Everything – good, with you?” Richard asks, looking genuinely concerned. Bless him, he’s trying.

“Ah, yeah…” he starts, and catches Moe’s eye across the room. Moe nods subtly. He feels a jolt of excitement and fear. If he’s going to do this, he can’t be putting it off forever or he’ll chicken out. “Um, no, actually.”

Richard looks surprised like he hadn’t expected it. “Oh. Why?”

He smiles at him. “Don’t worry. It’ll be ok. But I have something to say.”

Richard looks confused.

“Um, everyone,” he calls out, heart pounding. “Before you go, I have something I want to say.”

He couldn’t have chosen a better time for it – almost everyone is in the locker room, excluding Rebecca, who he assumes is in her office doing whatever football club owners do. Even Keeley’s here, talking to Roy, although she looks up when she hears him speak.

He looks at the faces of everyone now politely looking at him, waiting for him to speak, and his mouth goes dry. It’s all very well to say you’re going to do it, and to call attention to yourself, but then you actually have to do it, and that’s way scarier.

Keeley smiles encouragingly at him. Moe smiles. Ted looks pleasantly curious as to what he’s about to say. Beard is, as usual, unreadable. Nate looks slightly suspicious, but he might be reading into that. Roy looks gruff as usual, but gives him a subtle nod. This is weirdly, in his way, very encouraging.

He takes a breath. “This might be a weird way to say this, but I figured it was a bit too big to drop in the group chat.”

A few laughs. That’s not bad.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore, I’m gay,” he says, and he feels like his heart’s going to beat itself out of his chest. “I’m sorry if this makes anyone uncomfortable,” he starts, and then changes his mind. “Actually, I’m not, it’s twenty-twenty-one, and that’s your problem.”

There’s a quiet – not a frosty one, exactly, but he has a feeling the first person to react will set the tone.

Unexpectedly, Moe speaks up. “Yeah, and if you have a problem with him, you’ve got a problem with me, because I am too.” He says, and smiles doggedly at Colin. “And just to pre-empt the question, no, we’re not together.”

Jamie looks from Moe to him, and raises an eyebrow. He can’t help still feeling nervous – Jamie’s become a lot nicer, but he’s not sure if that extends this far, and the old fears of his previous behaviour are still there. “Fair enough, eh? As you said, it’s twent-eh twent-eh-one, we’re all more emotionally mature and shit now.”

It breaks the tension, and everyone laughs.

“Also, I can’t stop you, but I’d rather you all didn’t tell anyone yet,” Colin adds, and is comforted by the agreeing nods of the team.

“We can keep a secret,” Sam says to his right, smiling at him.

“If we’re doing this, I’d like to add that I consider myself bisexual,” Jan Maas adds casually, looking completely unbothered. “Although, I kind of thought you guys knew.” He shrugs. What must it be like to be him, Colin wonders, smiling.

“Thanks, Jan Maas,” he says. Jan nods, smiling in a kind of bemused way.

“If any of you are weird about this, so help me I’ll get Roy to kick your teeth in, but so am I,” Keeley adds, beaming at Colin.

Colin works very hard not to laugh at Jamie’s expression at this, like a detective who’s just found a big piece of evidence and is fitting it into his mental theory.

“Uh, not to make this about me, but I am too,” Will pipes up, blushing deep red, and there’s a deep cheer that goes up from the room.

“Yeah, Will!” he calls back to Will, who grins, still blushing.

“Football is love,” Dani calls out, beaming, and setting off a laughing cheer that morphs into a series of hugs and friendly arms round shoulders and cheers.

Colin is so overwhelmed by the affection of his friends and teammates, he might have to sit down. He doesn’t dare look at Isaac though. He thinks he heard him cheer, but he has no idea how he really feels about all of this.

When the cheering and hugging dies down, Ted speaks up, and looks directly at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t first cab off the rank here, Colin, this thing kind of rolled on like Proud Mary on that river,” he says, in the usual way where you need to take a second or two to get the reference he’s making. Ted smiles warmly at him. “But I’d just like to say – to you, and everyone else who was honest and spoke up just now – as your coach, it makes my heart burst to see you being honest with your teammates. I won’t pretend it would’ve been an easy decision to come to, in this line of work that I love, but we all know can and has to do better about creating spaces for players to be open about their sexuality; and protecting them because of that.” He pauses for a moment. “I’d like to thank you for your courage in speaking up, for allowing others to feel safe here. Because that’s what we want, at least in this team here. That’s what that sign up there is about. Believing in yourself, in your teammates, to support you on and off the field, whatever battles you’re facing. And to the rest of you, I wanna thank you for living up to that today. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, he thinks. Ted is kind of their team dad, in a way, although maybe that’s his own daddy issues. It’s something Dr Fieldstone picked up on. “Uhm, thanks Ted. That means a lot,” he says, trying to keep his voice from wobbling too much. Sam’s got a kindly arm around his neck and pats his arm comfortingly.

“What ‘e said,” Roy adds, to scattered laughter. “And I’m glad I don’t have to kick in any teeth today.”

“I say we’re going to the pub to celebrate, eh?” Jamie says, to raucous cheers.

Sam pats him triumphantly on the shoulder and then heads off to talk to Moe.

Richard looks at him, smiling, and patting him on the back jovially. “Bravo, Colin!” he says. “I would never have scorned you for this. My brother Remy is gay.”

“Oh, wow, thanks mate,” he says, honestly. He knows Richard means it kindly, and it’s above and beyond what he was expecting from this day in the years he’s been in this game.

Coach Beard comes over, unreadable as ever. Colin isn’t sure what to expect. “Good work today, Colin,” he says, with a nod. Ted gives him a double-eyebrow raise from a few feet behind him, and grins, so he assumes this is big. “That mantra seems to be working.”

He’d stop smiling if he could, but he’s too happy. “Yeah, it is.”

Keeley comes over to give Colin a hug. “Aw, I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks for the assist,” he says, and she beams. “You coming to the pub?”

“I think I can definitely stay for one or two,” she says, linking arms with him. If Isaac’s around, he’s not around him and he forgets to look as he and Keeley are swept up in the rest of team’s excitement, heading out of the locker room.

***

He’s coming back from the bathroom, happily tipsy, when he bumps into someone. His heart jumps, embarrassingly, when he realises it’s Isaac. They haven’t really had a chance to talk tonight, with all the talking he’s been doing with others and being bought drinks and playing darts that he’s sure the boys are allowing him to win at, because he’s not good at darts. Well, the boys except Jan, but he’s feeling weirdly bonded with Jan – platonically – tonight, so he can’t even be mad.

Isaac looks stunned and doesn’t say anything. Colin doesn’t say anything.

“Ah – you –“ Isaac tries. He looks a little bleary too.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Isaac opens his mouth and closes it. Colin feels him looking at his lips for a moment and feels confused. Isaac looks back up at him.

“Congrats on today, bruv,” he ends up saying. It’s strange that something can be both deflating and inflating for your mood. At least, the side of him that is steadfastly reminding himself that nothing will ever happen between them again is happy his best friend is being supportive. But obviously, that’s complicated by the fact that something did happen. “I – you really did it. Fucking – cool.”

“Uh, thanks, mate,” he says, unsure what else to say.

They stand around for a moment more, awkwardly.

“I should probably – get back – “ he says.

Isaac nods. “Yeah, I gotta take a piss like a racehorse,” he says, with an attempt at a grin.

“Yeah, you better go then,” he says, nodding.

He turns to go, and hears Isaac say something that he almost misses over the noise from the pub proper. “Hey mate, wait –“

He turns around.

Isaac looks uncomfortable. “I’m – I’m sorry. For everything, bruv. And I should – I wanted to say to everyone that I’d knock them into next Wednesday if they had a problem with you, but then Moe spoke up and it kind of felt like – unnecessary, innit?’

Colin stares at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He smiles, anyway, feeling the easiest one. “Thanks, mate. Thanks for the idea, anyway.”

“You’re my best friend, I’ve got your back,” Isaac says, staring at him. If he wasn’t a bit drunk he might swear he even saw tears in his eyes, but he is, so.

“I – I know, mate,” he says. He’s not sure if he’s sad or relieved, or both. Before he can decide, Isaac suddenly wraps him in a tight hug. They don’t do this that much anymore, he’s surprised by it. But he hugs back.

Just as suddenly Isaac lets him go. “I really gotta –“

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, and watches him leave, feeling more shaken up than ever. He takes a breath and heads back to the main area.

“To getting promoted in the next game!” he says, raising a beer once he’s back at the table with a few of the guys (and Keeley, who had stayed longer than one or two drinks).

“I know you will!” Keeley cheers.

“Richmond!” comes the chorus.

Colin grins. If they get promoted in a few days, it might feel good enough to even out how shitty he feels about having to break it off with Callum. And he and Isaac can just be best friends, as they were meant to be. It’ll be amazing.

THE END