Chapter Text
Ted wakes up to a noise. By the time he's awake enough to process anything, the noise is done and past and it's just Ted sitting up in his bed.
He waits a moment, listening.
There's still boxes lining his bedroom wall. Clothes yet to be unpacked, trinkets and sentimental items Ted couldn't bear to leave behind in America.
Ted strains when he hears something again. Sounds like voices from the other side of the wall. Must be the room next to him. He can't make out very much, the voices are muffled and quiet, but Ted gets the feeling there's some sort of argument going on.
Having only arrived yesterday, Ted hasn't gotten the chance to introduce himself to all his flatmates yet. The old lady, Mrs. Taylor, had popped over the moment she got a whiff of a new neighbor, but Ted mostly got the feeling she was wanting to gather some gossip 'bout her new American neighbor.
Ted makes a mental note of the fact that the neighbors to his right might be fightin'. Maybe there was something Ted could do to help them get along.
For now though, Ted has his first day of work creepin' up on him, and he forces his head back to his pillow.
Jamie scrambles when he hears his dad coming in. He's late. It's maybe midnight. Means he's gonna be real drunk.
So Jamie rushes from his spot at the kitchen table where he was tryin' (honest, he was) to do his English homework. But when dad's drunk it means he's angry and there's nothin' Jamie can do about it.
But of course Jamie had spread his homework all over the fucking kitchen table, which means he's still scramblin' to pick it all up when dad catches sight of him.
"Jamie!" His dad bellows like Jamie had done something personal to offend him and Jamie freezes a bit.
"I-I'm leavin!" Jamie tries to get a grasp on his binder and fails, dropping it to the floor. Jamie curses himself as dad draws near and Jamie backs up.
Dad don't say anything. He usually don't start out sayin' anything. He just takes a hold of Jamie by the arms and throws him backwards.
Jamie stumbles into the chair he'd been sittin' in a moment ago and winces. It clatters to the floor loudly and Jamie falls on top of it and the way his leg bumps against the back of the chair, Jamie knows he'll have a bruise tomorrow.
More than one, he thinks, as dad sneers down at him.
"Jamie fucking Tartt. Fucking pussy. Fucking wimp. Soft." James Tartt isn't particularly loud as he speaks. Seems to be speaking more to himself than anyone else.
Jamie swallows. He forces himself to try and wriggle out from his entanglement with the chair.
Dad kicks at the chair and pushes it back so Jamie is trapped against the wall. He lets out a small cry before he can contain it. Jamie's hands are starting to sweat and he tries to duck further into himself.
"Fucking pussy!" Dad's voice rises a little and he brings up his leg a bit before kicking Jamie in the stomach.
Jamie knows better than to cry or whimper. That would only lead to more anger. Only lead to more bruises. So Jamie sits there and bites his lip as his dad kicks him once, twice, three times. He just grunts quietly.
"Fucking kids. Fucking wimps." Dad says once he's finally done. "Fucking expensive."
Then, blessedly, he leaves. He walks to the fridge and takes out a beer. Opens it. The top goes flying. He walks on over to the couch and sits down.
Jamie waits in his position for ten minutes maybe. Until he hears snoring from the living room and quietly begins to pick himself up.
He puts the chair back. He gathers his homework, still incomplete, into his arms. He walks to his room with a slight limp.
The next morning, when Jamie wakes up to get ready for school and dad's still passed out on the couch, Jamie lifts his shirt to reveal a new mural of bruises.
Man, fuck this.
Ted's walking back to his flat after work. It's later than he would have liked, but a new job comes with a whole lot of learning, so Ted stayed late reviewing files and trying to get a grasp on the team dynamics.
Still, London is alive. Cars driving every which way, confusing the heck out of Ted, restaurants around every corner, couples takin' a walk at sunset, kids out at the park.
Ted pauses at the park. He's watchin' this kid, high schooler, probably, or whatever the British equivalent was. He seems to know what he's doin' with the soccer ball. Football. He's kickin' it every which way and makin' it look like the easiest thing in the world.
The kid gets the ball into the air with his knee and then swings up his other leg in an impressive showcase of flexibility, sending the ball flying in Ted's direction.
Ted, not as graceful with socc-footballs, simply stands there and braces for impact.
It hits him squarely in the stomach, but Ted's been tackled by men twice his size back in college, so he recovers quick enough, stopping the ball from moving with the tip of his foot.
The kid runs over, a bit of an apologetic look to his face.
"Sorry mate." He snatches the ball off of the ground and backs away a bit, looking a bit nervous.
"No worries kiddo! You're sure skilled kickin' that ball around. You play?"
The boy lets the ball fall back to the ground and tucks his hands on the inside of his hoodie.
"Nah, just play for fun, like." He narrows his eyes a little. "You that new American gaffer? That wanker for Richmond?"
"Thats me. Ted." Ted tries to keep his grin, but he knows not everyone's keen on an American coach.
"Mental. And you ain't even play footie before?"
"No sir." Ted responds. "So I'm gonna need all the help I can get. Got any tips?" Because this kid seems to know a bit about football, and it might do to have a bit of his own knowledge on the game.
The kid shrugs. "Roy Kent's like, the best. So make sure you use him a ton."
That scary fellow. The captain. Always lettin' the other players press his buttons. But out on the field he seems to know how to keep the team together.
"Well hey, I'll keep that in mind..." Ted trails off.
"Jamie." The kid supplies.
"Jamie." Ted smiles and Jamie looks at him strangely. "It was mighty fine meetin' ya Jamie. See ya 'round?"
"Sure. Cheers then."
And Jamie kicks his ball back to his little area in the park and Ted walks away feeling a little better about havin' someone to ask about the rules.
Over the next week or so Ted makes it a point to wave to the kid. Occasionally he'll try and strike up conversation. Mostly, Ted's just impressed with the kids skill with the football.
He woke up again a couple nights ago to another noise. Ted's startin' to think his neighbors have a cat thats knocking things over. There weren't any voices that night.
He actually ain't see Jamie for a day or two. Course, Ted's always coming back from work at different times. He finds himself missin' the kid.
It's Friday, and they have a big game tomorrow from what Ted understands. He'd let the team run things as usual for their last game, havin' Beard make any changes in the game as needed. But this week, Ted's ready to jump in a bit more.
He's walking home, a bit later than he would have liked, when he sees Jamie.
Same spot as usual, kicking that ball every which way. He was doin' a drill Ted had seen some of the boys at practice doing.
"Hey Jamie!" Ted calls once it seems Jamie has reached the end of the drill.
The kid turns at his name and gives a wave. Ted beckons him over and he seems to hesitate a moment before complying.
"How are ya Jamie! Haven't seen you in a bit."
"Just mint." Jamie grumbles bit. Now that he's closer, Ted can see the outline of a bruise around his eye.
"You okay there? You've got a bruise growin." Ted comments with a frown.
"It ain't growin it's fadin'." Jamie says a bit forcefully. "I got in a fight at school." He glances to the ground.
"Well I'm mighty sorry to hear that, Jamie." Ted watches as Jamie fixes his eyes to the ball between his feet and avoids eye contact.
"Don't be. It's my fault anyways." He mumbles.
Ted hums a bit. "I find that hard to believe Jamie."
"What?" Jamie asks incredulously, looking up. "Why?"
"You're a good kid." Ted answers.
That sure seems to surprise Jamie. He gives Ted this look of disbelief and smiles a bit to himself, like he finds it funny. Ted frowns internally. That shouldn't be a kids response to being told they're a good kid. Specially Jamie. Cause he is.
"I'm not." Jamie says after too long a pause.
Ted furrows his brows a bit. It ain't every day someone goes around saying they ain't a good person.
"I'd beg to differ on that, Jamie. You're willin' to take the time to talk to little old me. Thats gotta count for something, right?"
Jamie's mouth twitches a bit. "I guess. Sure."
Ted wonders about asking if Jamie's okay. If he needs some adult help dealing with bullies. But Ted's just an acquaintance, and Jamie's surly got teachers and parents on his case 'bout all this already. So Ted doesn't ask any more, cause the kids clearly wanting to change the subject.
"You think 'bout joining a team yet?" Ted gestures to the football. From what Ted's observed of Jamie and his own players, the kid's not half bad.
"Nah. It'd be a whole thing then, yeah? Practice and games and new shoes and gear and all that." Jamie seems a bit lighter now that the subjects changed, at least.
A money issue then, probably. But Ted knows there's ways around that. Maybe Jamie just needed a little push to go for it. Reaching out to the coach at his school and all that.
"Well, I ain't know much about football Jamie, but from what I see in those Richmond boys every day, I think you'd be able to keep up. You should think 'bout it."
Jamie gives Ted an almost sad smile. "Sure, cheers. I'll think about it."
"Well thats all I ask, Jamie. Keep up the good work, yeah?"
"Mint." And Jamie gives Ted almost a full smile before turning around and returning to his spot.
Ted's back in his flat soon enough. He finally unpacks his last box that has been mocking him from the corner for days now.
Pretty soon though, it's nearing seven and Ted throws his coat back on to meet with Beard at the Crown and Anchor.
He's leavin' when he catches sight of Jamie walking down the hall, football under his arm and backpack on.
"Well hey Jamie!" Ted greets, stopping with a smile.
"You live here?" Jamie asks, raising an eyebrow.
Ted gestures behind him to his flat. "Sure do. You as well?"
"Yeah. Just next to you, like." Jamie shifts his weight a bit nervously. "Kinda mint." He comments.
"Mints good, ain't it?" Ted finally asks. People keep sayin' that.
"Yeah coach, sure is." Jamie didn't seem to recognize he calls Ted coach, and, honestly, Ted's so used to it he hardly notices himself.
"Coach, huh?" Ted smiles a bit as the kid seems to flush.
"Well they keep callin' you that online and all, that's all."
"I don't mind coach one bit Jamie. If you ever need a bit of coachin' feel free to reach out, yeah kiddo?"
"Yeah. Mint." Jamie says.
The American wankers like, kinda growing on Jamie. He's just so... cartoonishly kind. Like, he's always waving to Jamie and stuff. Always stopping to chat. Always hyping Jamie up.
Jamie thinks it's kind of silly, but he looks forward to seeing Ted on his walk home from work.
Dad had gotten real angry a couple days ago. Meant Jamie missed a bit of school cause dad didn't want anyone poking around the state of Jamie face.
And like, yeah, Jamie should be kind of grateful. Cause his friends are always complaining about how their parents will make them go to school unless their throwing up. And dad doesn't care what Jamie does so long as he stays out of the way.
Jamie had used his usual excuse when Ted asked. That Jamie had gotten in a fight and it was his fault. Which, actually, is kind of true this time.
Cause like, dad don't always care where Jamie is. But sometimes when he's mad and looking for a reason to fight, and Jamie comes home late and the house is still messy, well, dad picks a fight.
And Jamie had even been thinking in the morning before leaving school that the house was messy. Cause dad never does the dishes anymore and there was a bunch of garbage everywhere. Jamie thought he should come back after school and get cleaning or dad would get real angry.
Except, after school Jamie was kind of not focused. Cause like, he'd just bombed this chemistry test. He was usually fine in science but there was so much dam reading on this test.
So Jamie just kind of stormed through the house, threw his bag down, and grabbed his ball to go blow off some steam.
Point is, Jamie knew dad would be mad from him not cleaning. And him showing up home real late probably didn't help.
So when dad started yelling, Jamie knew it would be a bad one. When dad started grabbing at Jamie's shirt collar and pushing him against the wall and then just stopped talking and staring at Jamie, Jamie knew he was going to be missing a bit of school.
It was always the worst when dad would get quiet. Would just shut up and get out all his anger in the form of swinging at Jamie. Always hurt like hell.
So Jamie's excuse is hardly even an excuse at all. He got in a fight cause he was doin' things he shouldn't have been. He wasn't a good kid. If Jamie were a good kid, his dad wouldn't hate him. Wouldn't feel the need to go get drunk every night. Wouldn't take out his anger on Jamie.
Of course, Ted denies this, cause he's just that kind of guy. The kind of guy to be real nice and everything. Except if Ted knew it all he probably wouldn't be being so nice about it. If he knew Jamie was kind of stupid and let his dad beat him up.
The only thing Jamie was really that good at was footie, and he wasn't even on a team or anything, just played games with some kids some weekends.
He'd love to play, too. He'd tried to join a while back. But that meant dad had to sign forms and pay activity fees and get Jamie a kit and a new ball and drive him to and from practice. He got fed up with it all and made it very clear to Jamie he wasn't allowed.
So Jamie contents himself with kicking the ball around with an occasional game and watching all the clips of Roy Kent and pretending thats enough. It has to be enough.
Kinda cool to know the coach of Richmond though, even though he's kinda loosing them all the games. Like, Ted's probably had conversations with Roy Kent. That's mad.
Dad finally lets him go back to school on a Friday. Jamie's pretty much behind in all his classes again, and his teachers just seem generally annoyed when he tells them he was sick. Again.
"Jamie, you've got to start coming to school. We all know you aren't actually sick this much. Your grades are starting to slip and it's only November." Mr. Cameron sighs when Jamie just shrugs and waves him off to his seat.
The thing is, Jamie does try. He wants to go to university or something. Get a good degree that will get Jamie a good job. Then Jamie can go off on his own. Maybe join some adult football league near him. One that meets up regularly.
'Cept, the more the year goes by, the more unsure Jamie is he'll be able to even get into university.
Maybe if he weren't missing any school. Maybe if he spent more time on his homework instead of outside. Maybe if he could read as fast or as well as the other kids. Maybe if he knew why he can't ever seem to read a sentence and understand it in one go. Maybe maybe maybe maybe.
Or maybe none of that would help. Maybe Jamie's just stupid. Certainly feels like it when he gets back his maths test, a subject he's actually decent at, and sees a big fat D.
So now he's barely passing the class. Barely passing any of his classes really. A low B in Gym and Cs in Maths and Computer Science. He's thoroughly in the Ds and Fs in everything else.
Dammit but he was trying. It's just, the worse his grades get, the harder it is to try in school. What's the point if he already has a D? There isn't much he can do to fix it.
So Jamie lets them slip. Skips a few extra days. Keeps his B in gym. Starts givin' up on the thought of college.
Jamie gets home one Saturday to a locked door. Means dad ain't home yet. So Jamie checks under the doormat to pull out the key.
Gone.
So Jamie knocks on the door, quietly first. No response. Of course.
Jamie thinks about calling his dad, but the thought makes him a little sweaty and he'd rather not.
His eyes slowly look towards the door to Ted's flat. Maybe Ted has, like, a paper clip or something. Maybe Jamie could pick the lock. He's never done it before but he's sure he could maybe possibly figure it out.
But it's a Saturday night, and Richmond has an away game against Man City, so he ain't even home. It was a stupid idea anyways.
So Jamie paces a little bit before giving up and sitting down against the wall. He's got his backpack with him and his football. He's taken to leaving in the morning on weekends and coming back at night to give dad some space.
So Jamie leans against his backpack and holds his ball and at some point over the next hour he shuts his eyes.