Work Text:
Colin swallowed hard and pretended to have something in his eye when the tears welled up.
When the guys had lost their semi final at West Ham two weeks back, Bradley had been so happy to take his call. They’d talked all the time Bradley spent on the train back to Cardiff and when he finally knocked on Colin’s door, there had been a hug and more talking and in the end, a soothing massage of tight shoulders.
Now that they’d won the Soccer Six in Burnley, Bradley didn’t even answer his phone or react to the text he’d sent. Obviously he needed him to build him up again, but when there was something to celebrate, he rather did that with the other blokes.
Sighing, Colin took his script and flopped down on his bed. Instead of moping, he could as well go over his lines again.
A while later, the door to his room opened and in stormed a widely grinning Bradley, holding a horrid golden cup. “Cols, look what I brought you!”