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It was only their first date, but Colin was already back at Michael’s house. He tried to discreetly look around for anything indicating his Grindr date was into football, but it was a bit hard to do when they were joined at the lips.
After a few agonizing minutes of this, the other man pulled back with a sigh.
“What is it?” Michael looked disappointed, but he hadn’t let go of Colin’s coat.
Colin smiled and winced apologetically, “I have an odd question.”
“Jesus Christ, please don’t ask me something pervy.” Michael let go of his coat and leaned back against the closed front door behind himself.
“No, it’s… do you like footie at all?”
Michael’s brow furrowed. “Is that a deal-breaker for you?”
“Is that a no?”
“I can’t fucking stand it.”
“Thank the fucking stars.” He rushed back in to kiss Michael again with such urgency the other man laughed but indulged him.
— —
Michael was a gift from above. Not only did he hate football, but he also knew next to nothing about it, which hopefully meant Colin’s secret was safe for now. The only problem was the shit schedule being on an English Premier team coached by an American and an anger mismanagement teacher caused.
Michael kept making brunch reservations at a new French café and then Roy would get one of his moods and force them into a two hour drill marathon starting at six a.m., then normal training, and Colin had to cancel last minute. Then there was the time Michael got tickets to Colin’s favorite band, but he couldn’t tell a lie to Isaac to save his life. And, of course, the six month anniversary trip to Michael’s sister’s cottage in the Cotswolds that was foiled by a last minute friendly.
Michael handled all the cancellations with grace. He rescheduled, or surprised Colin at his apartment (not the one the team knew about) once his schedule for the day was done, and also didn’t question when Colin didn’t want to go to certain underground stations (posters of his face and the like). Michael was a dream. And it made Colin feel like shit. Every time he lied through his teeth to Michael’s face he felt like he was adding arsenic to some puppy’s raw steak. The puppy hadn’t noticed yet, but once it did everything would already be over and the damage would be irreversible.
Unfortunately, the puppy was starting to show signs of the poison.
Colin knocked on the door to Michael’s house, balancing roses, a bottle of champagne (Michael’s favorite kind) and tarte tatin in a brown takeout box. He wore a wide grin on his face, seeing Michael was truly one of the best moments in his day. As soon as the door opened, his smile fell.
“Robbie, hi,” (Ouch, yeah, Michael still didn’t know his real name.) He wasn’t meeting his eyes and was instead looking at the ground, wiping at dried tear tracks on his face. Colin wanted to ask, but he didn’t even know where to start. Michael stepped to the side to let him in. Metaphors were starting to mix as he hung his head now like a beat dog. Colin hoped all the dog metaphors were a result of being a Greyhound and not a sign of an impending stress-induced mental breakdown.
Colin set the goods down on the countertop softly, almost worried that any sudden noises would send Michael into tears again.
“We need to talk about something.” Michael leaned against the countertop with his body facing Colin but his head still bowed. Icy fear started to pump through Colin’s heart as he searched Michael’s body language for either signs of a breakup, or maybe that his secret had been found out. He felt horribly selfish, like a fed man taking a bone from a starving puppy- okay, the dog metaphors had gone too far. Maybe he needed to talk to Dr. Sharon again.
“Okay, we can do that.” He wiped his hands nervously on his jeans. He needed to stop catastrophizing, they’d been together for eight months at this point, they could talk something through, surely.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Oh god. This was it. Time for an exposé or a blackmail or a scandal in general. He knew it was too good to be true. But then Michael kept talking. “I can’t keep doing this thing where you cancel last minute and then I have to make it fine again. I feel like you don’t want to see me. And if you don’t, that’s fine, but I can’t keep living through this cycle where you make me feel like I’m everything and then immediately nothing the second I want to do something in public, or just anything romantic, really.”
“Can I touch you?” Michael finally looked up at him, for the first time since he arrived. He nodded slowly, and Colin matched his pace with a few slow strides across the room. When he was close enough, he gently wrapped his arms around the shorter man. “I care about you so much, you’re the best part of all my days, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel differently. My boss is a dick with scheduling,” he apologized to Ted silently. “But if what you need is for me to call in sick or something sometimes, we can make that work. It’ll be the off season soon, and I should have time until training starts up again.”
“Off season? Training? You sound like a bloody athlete.” He laughed in a wobbly way, but when Colin pulled back to see his face, he was smiling.
Colin smiled back. “Nah, I work at a hospitality place, accommodating businessmen and such, they don’t come as often during the summer.” Damn, did he pull that out of his ass. Why had he made it so easy to lie to Michael? It made him sick.
— —
It was a couple months later, and Colin had turned all his notifications off on his phone. He had just finished off-season training for the day, and he was at Michael’s house. He had pulled one of his protein shakes out of Michael’s fridge and was chugging it on one side of Michael’s kitchen island, Michael leaning on the other side in one of Colin’s Richmond shirts that could be passed off as just a fan thing.
“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” Michael tilted his head at him, and that immediately clued him in to what his boyfriend was thinking.
“I’ve got some ideas.” A sly smile spread across his face. Before he could make any proper advances, the doorbell rang. Colin froze and looked quickly from the door to Michael. “Maybe you have different ideas?” He tried to play it off with a passable joke.
Michael gave him a light laugh for his trouble. “I’ll get it, you sit here and look pretty.”
“Actually, I look incredibly pretty today.”
“Gorgeous.” Michael gave him a light peck on the lips on the way to the door.
Colin heard the front door squeak open. He should fix that while he had more time. Then he felt his protein shake curdle in his stomach when he caught the sound of the voice from the other side of the door.
“Is Colin here?” Isaac. Shit. How had he found Michael’s house?
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you mean. I think you’ve got the wrong house.”
“Colin Hughes? You’re wearing his fucking shirt, mate.” Oh, no.
“No, this is my boy-”
Colin rushed over to the door. “Hey, mate!” He spotted his warmup jacket in Isaac’s hand, and in the other, his phone open to SnapMap. He hadn’t even thought about that. “Thank you so much, man, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Colin grabbed his jacket back from Isaac’s hand.
“You weren’t answering your texts so I thought…”
“Actually, no, come by my flat later, alright?” He lowered his voice, like that would solve anything. “I’ll tell you everything, promise. Don’t tell the team, please?”
Isaac looked unsure, but nodded. He walked back to his car and Colin watched him leave as he felt Michael staring at him.
“What the fuck was that?” Michael’s voice was cold in a way Colin had never heard from him before.
“Can we sit down?”
“Why? You don’t want to make a scene in front of your mate?” He sounded angry, almost as much as in Colin’s worst imaginings of how this day would go.
“Please, just-” He gestured to the island, where there were conveniently two stools. Probably the last time he’d sit there with Michael, but it didn’t do to dwell on that now. More loudly than he usually walked, Michael followed him and sat down reluctantly.
“My name’s not Robbie.”
“No shit, Colin Hughes.” He pulled the warmup jacket out of Colin’s hands and spread it out enough to make out the Hughes on the back.
“I’m actually a footballer. I don’t do hospitality unless you count a summer when I was a teenager.”
He expected some sort of response, but Michael sat silently and stared back at him.
“I couldn’t tell you because no Premier League footballer’s career has ever survived this. I couldn’t lose football, but I don’t want to lose you either. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in that environment, constantly having your identity used as a synonym for fucking abysmal at what your job is. It’s fucking shit, and I know this must sound so shallow and, well, actually, I don’t know how it sounds. But I want to know.”
“What have you told me that is true?”
“Everything, everything except my job.”
“So all those times you got called in early or had to cancel trips was because of this? And I’m supposed to believe that this is the only thing you’ve lied about?”
“Yes, because it is.”
“And I assume I’m the only thing you lie about to your mates.” It wasn’t a question. Colin nodded shamefully.
“Fuck. I think you should go.”
“Please, Michael, you’re the best thing in my life, please.”
Michael stood up and scrubbed his hands over his face.
“No, fucking- no! R-Colin, please just give me some time to think. If you want to fix this, you’ll meet me for breakfast tomorrow, and I don’t fucking care about training. Now go do damage control with that bloke-”
“Team captain.”
Michael laughed a little hysterically. “Right, of course, your team captain, how could I forget.”
When Colin just stared at him for another moment, Michael pointed at the door.
“Get out, Colin.”
— —
Colin was at the little French cafe at 7 a.m. sharp when they opened. He got the most obvious high top in hopes that Michael would spot him if he showed up. He hadn’t returned any of Colin’s texts. Not that Colin blamed him. He felt like the beat dog, arsenic filled puppy. Greyhound who got hit by Danny’s kick.
He heard the bell of the shop ring a couple minutes later, once he had already acquired Michael’s favorite drink and a couple pastries. He waved at him, and Michael locked eyes with him, but still went to order his own food despite Colin’s excessive gesturing at the food on the table in front of him. He came over soon enough and set his own coffee and croissant on the table.
“I looked you up last night. Apparently there’s quite the speculation on your love life. I saw an article from a satire newspaper claiming you were once a catholic priest. Saw a tumblr blog saying you were an aromantic icon. Also watched a compilation of your best goals. Not as many people talk about that.”
“What are you talking about?” Colin felt totally lost from this monologue.
“I’m saying I understand now what you were afraid of. I’m sorry. But I also deserve an apology.”
“I’m sorry for lying to you, Michael.”
Michael nodded and stared into his black coffee. “You can still come over tonight, but you can’t stay the night. And also, I want one of your jerseys.” He looked up and met Colin’s gaze with a slight gleam in his eye.
“I love you. You’re too good for me.”
Michael nodded again. “I think I need to get to know you some more before I can say the same. But I want to love you, Colin. I do.”
Colin’s vision got a little blurry. They had never said anything that close to “I love you” before. Even after all this, Michael was still willing to try. That counted for something.
“I want you to know everything.”
Michael smiled.