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Colin is careful of his bag when he enters the dressing room—the strap irritates his sunburn everytime the bag jostles and the short walk from the carpark to here has been just a little painful. And it’s not because he didn’t wear sunscreen—he did — it’s because he fell asleep by the pool and the Ibiza sun was not kind. He’s been back for a week and a half now and it’s still giving him trouble, but when his physician saw him he sent him home with some creams, saying it's “nothing to worry about” and that he’s “lucky not to have gotten sun poisoning.”
His doctor may be right about that, but it’s not really helpful as far as the current state of him goes. This is their first day due back at Nelson Road and they’re only here for a week before heading off to training camp in Spain, making the timing of his condition extra inconvenient. This week, while not as physically straining as camp will be, is meant to be a fitness assessment of sorts (the first week back always is, whether they say it outright or not) and Colin was already dreading it even before the sun got to him. He knows he’s nowhere near the level he’s supposed to be at and he’s counting down the minutes until he gets called in by the gaffers for a friendly chat.
Isaac spots him coming in and claps him on the shoulder just as he’s setting his bag down. He full on yelps, actually, the touch sending a fresh jolt of pain straight through his skin, and he’s so loud that he draws a few sympathetic looks from the lads around him.
“Oh shit, bruv. My bad,” Isaac says, pulling his hands away, “You forget the suncream again?”
Colin shakes his head, but its clear from the way Isaac’s looking at him that he doesn’t believe him—which is unfair, because it only happened a few times—but he knows it’s just teasing. And besides, this is what he misses during the off-season, when everybody is away and doing their own thing.
He turns to face Isaac and gives him a little chest punch. Jumping back into training after the summer break is always hard, physically speaking, but this part? This part is easy. Especially with ‘Saac because the two of them are never really out of contact—always texting or chatting or commenting on each other’s posts. It can be difficult, as footballers, to maintain friendships like this. People get transferred, people retire, and sometimes people just want minutes more than they want friends. But Isaac is his day one. They came to Richmond the same year, when Cardiff City went down and Palace released Isaac and they’d been like this ever since—best mates. “What about you? All those selfies at the gym. Feed’s starting to look like that one’s,” he says, tilting his head towards where Jamie is lacing up his boots.
It’s a joke, of course. They all know that Jamie’s feed hasn’t looked like that in a while. He still posts thirst traps and like, photos of him partying with people like Charli XCX, but now there’s other things too—Sam’s restaurant opening, for one, or sweet videos where his mum is fussing over him, even the odd attempt at social consciousness (some better than others—he swears the blue tiles on instagram had something to do with illegal whaling but nobody’s been able to confirm that one—though some of them did repost it in solidarity, himself included). It’s nice, if a little strange to see sometimes—knowing how bad he used to be and all.
Isaac snorts and Jamie must pick up on that one because he looks over at them, tongue sticking out a little bit, and his voice is playful when it cuts across the room. “Don’t know what you’re laughing at mate. Out of the two of us, s’only me that’s got a Gucci deal. Maybe you should be copying me.”
That earns him a pair of socks to the head—courtesy of Sam— which he looks all too pleased about catching before they can hit him and then refuses to give back, instigating a little bit of playfighting which some of the others jump in on. Figuring that this is his best opportunity to change without being looked at, Colin takes it—getting everything but his socks and boots on in a few quick moves. Isaac gives him a pointed look—questioning—and Colin does his best to avoid his gaze. No need to ruin the fun just because he’s having a few body issues.
Isaac turns away—letting it go for now, he’s definitely going to bring it up later—and does his captain’s duty, crossing his arms and giving the lads a proper staredown to break it up. He’s taken well to his position since Roy set him straight—grown gracefully into the leadership role in a way that sometimes makes Colin feel left behind, like he’s still a small lad trailing behind all the other boys in school who had already hit their growth spurts. Like he should’ve grown already too, but hasn’t.
It works, as it usually does, and everybody scatters back into position with some good natured grumbling. Satisfied, Isaac leans in towards Colin and there’s something soft in his expression, something new. He lowers his voice a little. “Don’t tell anybody, yeah, but there’s this girl. I’m trying to impress her.”
And yeah, that’s…different. Isaac’s had girlfriends before, but it’s usually just something that he falls into. Like he pulls a model at a fashion show and then that model goes with him to other fashion shows for a few months and then they just stop talking, no feelings had one way or the other. Colin should know, as he’s met all of them and uncomfortably third wheeled on a good chunk of their dates. The difference is that Isaac has never wanted to impress them before—or, at least, they were already impressed without him having to try. “Rich,” “fit,” and “footballer” tend to do all the legwork. If Isaac’s going out of his way, then there must be something real there. Colin’s not sure how to feel about that.
Isaac beams at him and grabs his phone, angling the screen so that only Colin can see it. The picture is of both of them, a selfie taken on a night in from the looks of it—he can recognize the red velvet chairs from Isaac’s home theater.
She’s pretty, from what Colin can see. And they look good together, soft and glowing and casually comfortable. He tries to squish down the tiny little part of him that’s upset that they’re already this far along and Isaac didn’t tell him until now. Isaac deserves to be happy, he reminds himself. He just wishes that he had something of his own to show, but he shakes it off. Thinking like that gets him nowhere. It’s something he’s been working on with his therapist—focusing on the positives and not the negatives. “I’m happy for you, Boyo.”