Archive of Our Own

Jamie’s well fucking comfortable on the sofa when Phoebe walks into the room.

She and Roy had gotten back home not long ago and she’d been outside making potions by herself again; she’s sent the grown-ups away when they’d sat outside, so instead he and Roy went inside and left her to it. Roy was in the kitchen last Jamie saw, inspecting his recently bought recipe book with an eager glint in his eye. Since retirement he’s been really getting into trying new meals and Jamie is more than happy to taste test.

Jamie’s slumped to the side of the sofa with his phone in his hands and the telly on low; so of course, Phoebe kneels right in front of him, settling herself in at the coffee table with a bunch of markers, pencils and a piece of paper. She blocks the entire bottom half of the screen from his view.

“You doing some art?” Jamie asks.

“No,” Phoebe says simply and turns to him. “I’m doing school work.”

“Bloody hell, they’ve started giving you homework already?” Jamie is aghast. No way are they sending out homework for the little kiddies… isn’t it just those little reading books until they’re a bit older? She’s only been back at school for a few weeks too; what a rough start to the school year. “Aren’t you like 6?”

Phoebe rolls her eyes at him. “I’m 8, you were at my birthday party.”

“Ah, you got me there.”

“And no, this isn’t homework. I asked for an extra sheet and brought it home.”

Jamie pauses, mouth quirked up. “You asked for extra school work?” What a little nerd.

“Yes!” She holds her sheet out to him. It’s blank except for the outline of a hand that extends down into a wrist that ends at the bottom of the page. “We’re doing safety hands at school and Ms Bowen said if we wanted to have one at home then she had extra sheets, and I already have one at home but then I asked if I could take one to Uncle Roy’s too and she said yes.”

“Right…” Jamie blinks at her. “What’s a safety hand?”

She holds one of her little hands up at him and he gives it a high five.

“No!” Phoebe laughs. “This is a safety hand!” She spreads her fingers wide and points at her fingers. “Each finger is a trusted adult we can go to if we need help.” She points at her thumb. “This is mum.” Her index finger. “Uncle Roy.” Her middle finger. “You.” Her ring finger. “Keeley.” And her pinky. “And Ms Bowen!”

The overwhelming delight at being named one of Phoebe’s safe people washes through him. Warm and filling his heart—he smiles, wide and happy.

“Ah, I get it,” Jamie says. “But you already know your safety hand, why are you doing it on a worksheet too?”

“Well…” Phoebe turns back to the coffee table and her worksheet. “I want to have it here too ‘cos I have a room here and I want to put it on the wall. And on the wrist of the hand we add bracelets to decorate it with safe people in the community.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea. Make the hand all pretty, yeah?” He holds his wrist out and wiggles it, his bracelets jingling.

Phoebe giggles. “Yeah!”

For the next ten minutes or so Jamie switches between playing Candy Crush, trying to make sense of what’s happening in the top half of the telly and watching Phoebe write. She completes the fingers quickly, Jamie smiling again when he sees his name on the page, then sees her get creative with all the colours for the bracelets. Fire fighters get a bright red bracelet, police a dark blue, and doctors a patterned green one; she even adds colours to all the finger nails too. Roy gets black, which is very fitting, Keeley’s is pink, also fitting, and Jamie gets yellow—he’s not sure the logic with that, he doesn’t really wear yellow, but he likes that he’s got a bright one.

“That’s looking really good, Phoebs,” Jamie says.

She looks up at him with a smile. “Thank you!” She keeps going, now giving the bracelets some little charms. “Who’s on your safety hand, Jamie?”

Jamie hums and thinks about it; he’s done a very similar activity with Doctor Sharon before, so it’s easy. He points at each finger as he goes. “Mummy, Roy, Keeley, Sam and Colin… I’ve got more, but I need more fingers.”

Phoebe nods. “You can add them as bracelets.”

“Good thinking,” Jamie says. He points to his real bracelets. “Then there’s also Isaac, Dani and… maybe Coach Beard?”

Hm, he hadn’t thought of Beard as part of that but as the names came to him, memories of Beard’s conversations and quick actions to help him at Wembley came back to him too. There’s something very steady and reliable about him.

“That’s good, it’s good to have too many people,” Phoebe says. “Alex in my class only had his aunty and uncle, he didn’t even have enough for the hand.” She lets out a little sigh. “He had to add more teachers from school to fill up the sheet.”

“Oh, that’s… was he alright, then? None of the other kids were mean to him about it or nothing?” Jamie asks, feeling a pang of concern for the kid. Kids can be little assholes to each other when they find out shit like that, especially little posh kids; he had all sorts of shit said to him by other kids when they found out he was being raised by a single mum.

Phoebe pulls a face. “No, why would they? And no one saw, anyway. I saw because I sit next to him.”

“Right, yeah. Just make sure to keep that secret, yeah? Sometimes kids can be mean for silly things like that.”

Phoebe gives him an assessing look. “You’re not supposed to ask me to keep secrets.”

“Huh?”

“Adults aren’t supposed to tell kids to keep secrets,” Phoebe says again. “Unless it’s for a present or a surprise party or something, those are safe secrets.”

“Oi.” Roy’s voice comes from behind him. Jamie jumps and turns his head around to face him. “What did I say about where to put your dirty shoes? You played with the hose and got all muddy.”

Phoebe smiles sweetly at him. “Sorry Uncle Roy, I forgot.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “By the door next time, yeah? Not tracking mud all the way to your room.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy!”

Jamie sits up a bit straighter and pulls his knees up, giving Roy space to sit close to him.

“What are you drawing today?” Roy asks, looking down at Phoebe’s drawing and raising his eyebrows.

Phoebe quickly explains safety hands again and Jamie watches the way Roy’s face lightens at being named as the second finger on the hand… Holy shit, Jamie was the third one. That’s fucking special, innit.

“But!” Phoebe says and gives Jamie a look. “Jamie just asked me to keep a secret, and I can’t tell if it’s a safe secret or not…”

Roy’s stare is intense. “What did he ask you to keep secret?”

Jamie holds his hands up in innocence. “Hey! It weren’t nothing bad, don’t give me that look.” He gestures at Phoebe’s full page and explains about her classmate’s lack of safe adults. “I know kids can be mean about things like that, so I told her not to tell anyone about it.”

At Phoebe’s nod, Roy lets out a long breath, takes Jamie’s hand and gives it an apologetic squeeze. He looks back at Phoebe. “That’s a safe secret.”

“Are you sure?” Phoebe asks.

“I’m sure,” Roy says easily. “But it’s good to check, yeah? Good thinking.”

Phoebe brightens. “Then can we get ice-cream?”

Jamie snickers—Phoebe’s go-to response after any sort of praise was to ask for ice-cream. Never mind that she and Roy definitely had some earlier.

“No, but I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

“Yes!”

--

It’s later that night, safely tucked in bed with Roy’s arm over his waist, when Jamie thinks about the safety hand again.

If he’d done that worksheet as a kid, who would he have added? His mummy, obviously. But aside from her, who was there? He wouldn’t have added his dad; even back then he knew that. He liked some of the neighbours but not all that much. And he wasn’t really close with any of his coaches growing up but he’d probably write down one of them even if he didn’t mean it… then it would be his teachers to make up the numbers, just like that Alex kid.

“You alright?” Roy asks, his mouth moving against Jamie’s bare back. The bristles of his beard scratch lightly against his skin. “You’re all tense.”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“The safety hand thing Phoebe was doing.”

Roy hums. “It’s a good activity. It’s good she knows who she can come to if she needs to.” His arms tighten around him. “Not that she’ll ever need to, I’ll make fucking sure of it.”

Jamie snorts. “Safest kid in all of London.”

“Too fucking right,” Roy growls.

Not longer after, Roy falls asleep. Jamie feels the warm breaths of air against and lets it sooth him, but something still lingers, keeping him awake.

Adults aren’t supposed to tell kids to keep secrets.

It’s a good fucking lesson, really. An important one. Jamie feels kind of sick about it though.

--

(“Alright son, let’s just keep this a little secret between us men, yeah? No need to tell your mum about it. She wouldn’t understand.”)

--

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course,” Doctor Sharon replies.

He’s still getting used to having the therapy sessions through his computer. He and Roy had moved Jamie’s room around to have a desk with his PC set up. (Though Jamie never slept in here anymore—but he did like having a whole wardrobe for himself.) The webcam he bought was a much higher quality than Doctor Sharon’s, so while he was in perfect clarity she was a little bit fuzzy. He wishes they could have the sessions in person again but he'll take this over a new therapist entirely.

“It’s about… secrets.” Jamie bites his lip.

Doctor Sharon shifts a little and nods slowly. “Okay, what about them?”

Jamie gives her a quick run though of the activity and the way Roy had insisted it was a safe secret. Phoebe hadn’t been able to tell the difference and in all honesty, Jamie wasn’t quite sure about the distinction. A secret was a secret, weren’t it?

“So that was a safe secret,” Jamie says and he shrugs. “But like… what would make a secret unsafe? It’s just words, innit.”

“Hm.” Doctor Sharon eyes him through the screen. “You know all too well how unsafe words can be.” At that, Jamie winces—she’s not wrong. “But the difference in this case is specifically about secrets. Let’s think about it, what is a secret?”

“Something you don’t tell people.”

“Yes. And it could also be an object, like a diary for example,” Doctor Sharon explains. “But when we define them under the understanding of safety, we have to look at the secrets themselves.”

“Alright…”

“A general way to differentiate between safe and unsafe secrets is the purpose and potential for harm.” If this were an in person session Jamie would bet Doctor Sharon would be writing something down. Instead, she keeps talking. “A safe secret is something that usually will come to light later… like a surprise birthday party or a present. It might not, though, it could also be a special place you keep something precious or even a password or a pin number—these are safe secrets. What defines it is that no harm will come to anyone when you keep it.”

“That makes sense.”

“And an unsafe secret is something that shouldn’t be kept, it might be harmful in someway and usually involves some element of pressure to keep the secret. That could be… being threatened to not tell someone or even just an implied threat. There’s other factors too; shame, fear, worry, financial pressures even.” Doctor Sharon frowns. “I’ve simplified this, but that’s the general gist of it.”

Jamie thinks on all the secrets he’s kept over the years and knows there’s more than he could have ever kept track of. How many of them were safe? Probably some of them, like when he used to keep a little notebook with all his passwords written in tucked away in the drawer with his pants or the times he secretly went out when his mum were working to get extra training in down at the park.

But unsafe secrets… he’s kept way too fucking many, he’s sure. Everything with his dad probably fell under that category.

“When schools teach this as a concept to children—” Doctor Sharon speaks again, grabbing Jamie’s attention. “—it’s often described with feelings. If a secret makes you worried, scared or uncomfortable, then it’s usually an indicator that the secret is unsafe and should be shared with an adult.”

Slowly, Jamie nods. “I think I get it now.”

“In all honesty Jamie, this is… a topic that holds a lot of nuance and flexibility, in reality it’s hard to slot things into a this or that sorting of safe and unsafe like this. Things are often more complex than a simple definition…” She sends him a look that Jamie can’t read through the screen. “This is also usually a concept taught to children to teach them skills to recognise when a situation isn’t safe and ask for help from an adult.”

“Right,” Jamie scoffs. “I must have missed this class.”

Doctor Sharon doesn’t laugh but she does give a small smile. “You got there in the end.”

“Fucking eventually, yeah.”

“There’s no timeframe on getting help and recovery Jamie, we’ve talked about this,” Doctor Sharon says.

“Yeah- yeah, I know.”

“Now, secrets—was there anything else about this that you’d like to talk about?”

For a moment, the first thought that comes to Jamie’s mind is something he has avoided thinking about for years. Soft hands touching him, an accented voice telling him he was doing well mixed in with words he didn’t understand, coloured lights dimming the room—he gives himself a wiggle and shakes his head.

“Nah, not about this.” Jamie forces a little smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the secrets I have left I’m meant to keep.”

“Are you talking about your sexuality and relationship?”

Jamie pauses. “Yep.” He definitely hadn’t been, but that is a good example. “That’s like… it’s a safe secret, right? ‘Cos it’s not hurting anyone to be private with it.”

Doctor Sharon hums. “This is where the nuance in the definition comes in. Given the world we live in, to be open about your sexuality might not be safe; unfortunately you are a public figure, the response from the public cannot be predicted—and yet, keeping it a secret may bring harm to yourself in other ways; feelings of isolation or shame might develop.”

“Right,” Jamie groans. “It’s never fucking easy, is it?”

“I’m afraid not.” Doctor Sharon lets out a little noise. “These are things you have to decide for yourself. I know you’ve come out to a few people, is coming out publicly something you’re considering?”

“Oh! No, fuck no.” Jamie shakes his head. “Maybe when I retire or something, but I don’t wanna be the first one, not for something like this. I’ve got some people who know, that’s enough for now.”

--

When Jamie goes back downstairs after his session he finds Keeley stretched out on the sofa with her phone in hand. She’s typing away, her freshly done nails tapping at the screen.

“Hi love,” Keeley says without looking up. “Gimme a sec, just gotta get this done then I’ll give you a kiss.”

Jamie smiles and sits himself down on the armrest behind her, waiting patiently. He bites his lip and watches her from above, the focused little frown and the little movements of her mouth as she mumbles the words she’s typing. A quick look at the screen tells Jamie it’s an email she’s writing, something for Bantr—boring.

“Okay, finished!” She puts her phone down and sits up. He takes barely a moment before leaning over to kiss her, their lips pressing together in a quick peck. “How was therapy?”

“Alright,” Jamie says and stands up. Keeley follows and they head into the kitchen. “Talked about like… secrets and shit.”

“Secrets?”

Jamie flicks the kettle on and grabs three mugs. Roy was doing his physio stretches in the home gym and would join them at any moment. They didn’t usually plan it like that, normally Roy did his afternoon stretches earlier but he’d had a podiatrist appointment and it shifted his plans back.

“Like, what secrets are safe to keep and what you should tell, that sort of thing. Phoebe had a worksheet about something similar and I just got in my head about it a bit. We talked about them the whole session.”

“Hm,” Keeley says with a little nod. “That’s a good thing to teach little kids. Especially little girls.” She eyes him as he puts the tea bags in the mugs. “Any secrets in particular?”

“Um, we talked about coming out and all that,” Jamie says. Roy has one of them cool, glass kettles that you can see boil—he likes watching the bubbles start rushing. “Not saying I’m gonna, people are still shitheads about it, innit. We just talked about it and all.”

“I understand,” Keeley says with a soft smile. “Can’t rush something like that.”

“Exactly.” Jamie watches the kettle as small bubbles start to form and rise. “How was it when you came out?”

“What—publicly?” Keeley lets out a little laugh, though it sounds bitter and pained. “It wasn’t great.”

“Fuck, really?”

Jamie remembers Keeley coming out. He’d been… maybe 18? She’d made some sort of post on twitter about it and then within like a day or so there were tabloid magazines publishing shots of her on a date. He doesn’t remember much about the articles but he remembers just about wiggling out of his own skin in glee. He’d been bloody thrilled, hadn’t he? Keeley Jones was like him; bisexual.

He doesn’t actually remember who the other woman was, only that she had also been a WAG. The story had been all about how Keeley had left the footballer she was seeing, some fella from Arsenal, for this other lady, who also left her footballer boyfriend for Keeley.

“Natalie and I were both out… sort of. We were out enough that having that exposed didn’t ruin any relationships or shock any family members or anything, but it was horrible. We got a heads up from a contact I have at The Sun about the photos, so I was able to at least make a post myself before they were published but… it wasn’t planned, was it? Was all a big rush and not at all how I wanted it to go.”

“Shit.”

“And… shit. The awful things people would say… it was gross.” Keeley wraps her arms around herself, holding herself tight. “It made me feel gross. I was so busy though, so I just tried not to think about it.”

“What… did they say?” Jamie asks cautiously. Fucking hell, he had no idea.

Keeley pulls a face. “Don’t really want to repeat it, love.” Her hands grips into the fabric of her top. “Men can just be… really awful sometimes.”

“They can.” Roy agrees as he steps into the kitchen. He’s frowning as he looks at Keeley. “Who did what? I’ll fucking tear their dicks off.”

“Ah, thousands of shitty pervs losing their dicks all in one night—it’ll be a mess.” Keeley snickers, but it’s not a nice sound, it’s full of pushed back hurt.

“Thousands?” Roy’s eyes widen. “Fucking hell, I’m gonna need back up. What the fuck happened?”

“It was years ago now, nothing to worry about,” Keeley says, almost dismissively. “Barely bothers me anymore. Though, that was the end of my topless photoshoots—I didn’t fancy becoming wank material to a bunch of…” She trails off and gives her head a little shake. “It was bad enough before then, you know, but after… it was too much.”

Knowing that Keeley wasn’t going to say any more, Roy looks at Jamie.

“We were talking about when the papers posted all those photos of Keeley when she had a girlfriend,” Jamie says quickly. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise it was like that, Keels. That’s so shit.” The kettle beeps so Jamie grabs it to pour the water as they talk. “I never really thought that much about it at the time, I were just excited that you were bi, yeah? ‘Cos I already knew I liked guys too; like me and a lad from the academy had a thing for a while and I had a few girlfriends when I were at school.” He sighs. “Fuck, that’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Keeley nods. “It was bullshit. It felt like… like everyone was watching me, you know? Felt so fucking exposed.” Roy goes to pull her into a hug but she puts her hands up. “No touching just yet, yeah? I just need to like…” She gives herself a big squeeze and then takes a long breath. “Just give me a minute.”

Jamie bites his lip. Fuck. He didn’t mean to upset her like this. He didn’t even realise it was something upsetting. He looks to Roy, who’s watching Keeley with a worried frown, and sighs.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up, Keels.”

“It’s not your fault, Jamie, seriously,” Keeley says in a quiet voice. “I didn’t realise how much it still bothered me.”

“Here.” Jamie passes Keeley her tea, then slides one along the counter for Roy to grab.

“Ta, love.” She takes a small sip. “It was just after, you know, all the comments online of people saying how hot they thought it was and all the… fantasies and shit they’d tell me about. It was like I wasn’t a real person to them, it was…” She shakes her head, a quick little burst like she’s physically shaking off the thought. “I ended up turning off my DM’s online just to stop all the dick pics and the disgusting messages.”

“Shit.”

“Give me names and I swear—”

Keeley sighs. “No point in it now, is there?” Her posture starts to loosen. “Okay, hug now please.”

Roy gets there first and Jamie is just behind. Between them, Keeley lets out a long, heavy breath; the pressure of them holding her close is enough for her to start to relax, for more of the tension to leave.

“You alright?” Roy asks.

“Yeah,” Keeley mumbles. “I don’t know why that made me feel so gross. It was like it all just happened.”

Jamie winces. “Babe, I think I triggered you. That’s how I get sometimes too.”

Roy growls and they’re all so entwined together the feeling rumbles between them.

“Well, it was shit,” Keeley sighs. “I haven’t felt so gross like that since…” She trails off, something odd in her tone. “Fuck, anyway, let’s do something nice tonight, yeah?”

Jamie nods in agreement and doesn’t push it. He hates being pushed after feeling all gross, so he leaves it.

“Whatever you want,” Roy says in a soft tone. “You just tell us and we’ll make it happen.”

“Can you run me a bubble bath and wash my hair?” Keeley asks quietly.

Roy leans down and kisses her head. “Of course.” He looks at Jamie, their faces very close. “Can you bring the step stool down for me to sit on? I can’t kneel that long.”

Jamie nods easily. “Of course.”

--

Keeley had described the whole thing as feeling exposed—and that sits with Jamie.

Sometimes Jamie feels like that and is struck with the overwhelming urge to just cover himself up. He doesn’t remember when it started and he hasn’t figured out why the feeling sometimes hits him so strongly.

Was it when he was a kid and would run to his mum for a big squeeze? The all encompassing feeling of being held and the safety it promised? Hm… that wasn’t it. That feeling was more about the weight and pressure; it settled that buzzing under his skin that was hard to explain. When he feels like that he used to imagine himself being fed into one of those posh pasta roller things, coming out all flat with the buzzing pressed out of him.

That was a feeling for squeezes, this other feeling was about covering up.

And it was different to when he twisted his hands in his shirt—he does remember when that began, way back when the comments about his fidgety and flapping hands started to get louder. Hiding his hands was safer. Covering them up was a different thing.

This feeling—it was weird.

Some days he’ll layer up so well the feeling settles, other times he clenches his jaw and instead strips off more; if he’s feeling exposed then he might as well make it a good fucking show. He’s worked fucking hard to get his body looking as fit as it does, so he shoves the feeling down and shows the world just how good he looks. Photos are posted on his socials, little workout clips are added to his story—hell, he even went on a reality show where the less he wore the more the production staff would give him a thumbs up. It didn’t get rid of the feeling but when he was doing that it could become like white-noise, it became so constant he could ignore it.

--

The thing is... since the chat about secrets with Doctor Sharon, Jamie finds himself very aware of all the secrets in his day. Each day at training he notices more and more.

--

Keeley pulls him aside when they arrive at work, shutting the door to her office. She pulls him in for a kiss, pats his bum and then smiles smugly.

“Best way to start the day, hey?” She pats Jamie cheek softly. “A secret kiss, just for us.”

Jamie smiles back at her. “Bit different from when we’d make out in the hallway, innit.”

Keeley laughs. “It bloody well is.”

She sends him off with a wave and a promise to see him at Roy’s house later.

--

Isaac suggests secret handshakes between the team.

“It’s team bonding, innit.”

--

Ted gives him a little American chocolate, some small, individually wrapped thing with shiny paper. He winks at him and says he keeps them in his secret stash, to not spread the word to the whole team.

It tastes alright, Jamie prefers a jaffa cake though.

--

Richard’s current girlfriend’s name is a secret because he doesn’t want anyone looking up who she is.

“She’s famous,” he says. “And you will all mind your own business.”

Then he glares at them, daring them to ask anyway.

--

Jan, who straight up just doesn’t lie to anyone, he's never held anything back, refuses to tell anyone his favourite coffee shop.

“I don’t want you all there in the mornings,” Jan says. “It’s already busy enough without you making it worse.”

Richard, who’d been the one to steal a sip from his cup and then demand to know where he’d gotten it from, pulls a face. “So you’ll keep it a secret from the whole team?”

Jan nods easily. “I will keep this secret until I die.”

--

Even Sam, who Jamie associates with honesty and openness, refuses to tell anyone a recipe that he’d used when he’d brought in some homemade food for everyone to try. “It’s a secret family recipe,” Sam says with a smile. “I can’t tell anyone.”

--

Secrets are just… everywhere.

--

Jamie knows Roy watches Lust Conquers All; he learnt that months ago when they got together. He also has his secret yoga group that he watches it with, which is fucking endearing somehow, but occasionally Keeley will put it on too and Jamie will find himself watching it as well.

Keeley enjoys it, Roy enjoys it and Jamie used to enjoy it, though now it makes him feel kind of weird. Tonight, Roy is at his yoga friend’s house and is likely watching it with them. Keeley might not watch every episode, but she likes to watch the eliminations, she’s said before, so she puts it on too.

“Danthony, Markus. One of you will go home tonight.”

Jamie looks away, forcing his eyes to stay on his phone. LCA wasn’t a high point in Jamie’s life. He didn’t do it this time, no fucking reason to run from football with his dad locked away, no push to get out of City when he’s been transferred to Richmond, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the whole experience.

“The other will continue his lustful journey.”

This elimination was the one that kicked Jamie off the show last time. Danthony is up there again, same prick face and tight shirt, along with some fella who only got in to the show because Jamie wasn’t on it.

“That Danthony’s a prat, isn’t he,” Keeley notes aloud. “Bloody fit though.”

Jamie just hums in agreement. “Yeah, a right bellend.”

Keeley just nods, still watching the screen.

Jamie still isn’t sure how much Keeley believes him about the time travel. Roy does, sort of—he thinks Jamie’s psychic. But Jamie’s avoided bringing it up with Keeley as much as he can; it had been a part of the reason she’d broken up with him at the gala all those months ago.

So Jamie doesn’t say anything now, doesn’t add that he was on it for this part, that he knows all those people on the screen, that he’d fucked both Amy and Denise with cameras on them the whole time. It makes him feel weird when he thinks about it. He pulls Keeley’s fluffy pink blanket a little higher, tucking it under his chin.

Markus gets voted off, leaving Danthony to stay—just like last time.

“Let’s have a quick look at some of the highlights that Markus brought to the lustful villa!” The presenter’s voice says in that same fake voice.

Jamie looks up. He never watched his own highlights, he’s not totally sure what they would have shown—would they show him shagging Amy in the toilet? Denise in the hot tub? He’d spent a lot of time in the pool and in the gym, maybe they would have had clips from that. It doesn’t matter now, Jamie never did it this time, but he finds himself hoping that’s what they’d have showed instead of the sex.

For Markus, they highlight his relationship with Amy. The lad was sweet, it seemed, but boring in a way that wouldn’t make for good telly, not on a show like this; it’s probably why he was voted off. Jamie’s strategy was too far in the other direction; too much excitement, he figures.

“I quite liked Markus,” Keeley sighs. “But he was probably a bit too shy for a show like this. He hooked up with Amy but he was really private with it, you know, compared to the others there.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees. Every shot has him either trying to woo Amy or the fully covered hook ups in the bedroom. No hot tub, no bathroom, no poolside oral—nothing very open.

“Not that I blame him.” Keeley crosses her arms over her chest. “I’d hate for strangers to see me have sex.” She tilts her head. “I suppose with a show like this the people all know what they’re signing up for, they all know it’s like a weirdly public form of soft-core porn.”

Jamie nods at that. He’s done enough therapy now to know that he could never do something like LCA again, cameras on him playing football was one thing, cameras on him during sex was something different. He thinks back to the conversation from last week, Keeley saying how exposed she’d felt when that tabloid ran the article all those years ago.

“It’d feel exposing,” Jamie says honestly. “It’d be bloody awful. If he didn’t realise how much would be filmed it would be even worse.”

“Yeah.” Keeley is quiet for a moment. “Having a choice in it makes a difference… It’s all about choice, really.”

“Exactly,” Jamie agrees.

“I had—” she cuts herself and bites her lip. “When I was younger…” Her arms, still crossed in front of her, tighten. “Can I tell you something?”

Jamie blinks at her and puts his phone down, the blanket untucks from under his chin and falls loose on his lap. “Yeah, of course babe. You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve done topless shoots before, you know that,” Keeley says with an odd little smile. Jamie used to have one of the topless photos in his cubby, didn’t he. At Jamie’s nod she continues. “I didn’t mind them. They were my choice, you know, I knew they’d be published and anyone could see them, and I’m fit as fuck, right. But…” She trails off.

“But?”

“When I was fifteen there was someone I liked, his name was Jimmy Daniels. He asked me to send him a topless photo and I did, right, ‘cos he asked and I was keen on him, but then he…” She pauses for just a moment and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if he shared it with everyone or just one other person and they did it, but the next thing I knew, that photo was being passed around the school.”

Jamie feels sick. “Fuck Keels, that would have been awful.” Fifteen, she was basically just a kid. “Did the teachers help at all? Like, ain’t that illegal to have a fifteen year old’s photos being passed around like that?”

Keeley wrinkles her nose. “Mr Daniels was my teacher.”

“He—what?” Jamie can barely breathe. “Your teacher asked you for topless photos and then spread them around the school?”

“Yeah.” Keeley’s expression shifts, her mouth tilting down and her eyes don’t settle on anything, just looking around the room in a rapid search. “Oh. Fuck.” She looks devastated and takes a sharp breath in. “I’ve never said that out loud before.” Her voice wavers and trembles. “It’s never… it’s never hit me like this before.” She looks at Jamie and her eyes are shining. “I knew it was bad, right, what he did, I remember how I felt but saying it loud makes it worse.” Tears slide down her cheeks. “And you fucking… summing it all up like that. God. It was really bad.”

Jamie wishes he was better with words, better at comforting people. “Shit Keeley, I’m so fucking sorry. That’s horrible, and like… it’s illegal right, for a teacher to do that shit.”

Keeley wipes her faces and nods. “Yeah,” she croaks. “It’s illegal.” She buries her face in her hands and lets out a long breath, it’s almost a sob. “I feel sick.”

“Yeah.” Jamie feels sick too, just the thought of it makes him nauseous. Nauseous and furious. “Is he fucking… still teaching?” Still getting teenage girls to send him topless photos and then spreading them around?

Keeley freezes. “I don’t know.”

“Do you—” Jamie cuts himself off as Keeley moves, lunging for her phone.

The tears that wet her face are swiped away and she quickly types. “I’m googling him, maybe…” Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth drops open. “Shit.”

“What?” Jamie shifts closer so he can see.

“There’s an article here. He was arrested four years ago,” Keeley says simply. “Charged with… ah. Possession of child exploitation material. Fucking hell.” She lets her phone drop in her lap and tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling. “My photos were probably in that collection.”

There’s nothing that Jamie can say that will help right now, so he just reaches out and takes her hand. She grips it tight and then uses it to pull herself into his space, wrapping herself around him. He encircles her wholly and holds her close.

How fucking horrible. How utterly, fucking horrible.

--

Roy joins them later when Keeley and Jamie are already curled up in Keeley’s bed. They’re both still awake as he comes in, lightness in his steps after a nice time with his secret yoga group. Jamie is quiet, he’s still not sure what to say that could help. Keeley is still tense, she’d opened up about her own trauma and it sits with them like an extra person in the room.

As Roy climbs in the bed he leans over Jamie to give Keeley a quick kiss and she dodges him. Roy pauses, still leaning over Jamie. “Everything alright?”

Keeling rolls over so she’s looking up at Roy. “I had a big, fucked up realisation earlier.”

“It was horrible,” Jamie adds.

Roy frowns deeply. “What was it?”

Keeley lets out a long, drawn out sigh and rolls over properly so she’s facing Jamie. Roy shifts too, propping himself up on his elbow and giving Keeley a good view of them both. She tells Roy quickly, like ripping a particularly sensitive bandaid off, and Jamie feels the way Keeley’s body tenses again, can see the shine in her eyes.

“Fucking hell,” Roy growls. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Keeley huffs. “You gonna break him out of prison just to kill him?”

After a beat, Roy says, “yeah.”

Keeley giggles, there’s a hysterical edge to it, and she shakes her head. “Thanks, love.”

“Did you… want to talk about it?” Roy offers. Jamie nods at Keeley at the suggestion, Roy’s really good at comforting Jamie, he’s probably just as good with comforting Keeley.

“I think…” Keeley makes a small hum. “I think I’ll talk to Rebecca about it. No offence to you both, but she’s a woman, I think she’ll understand this a bit more. She almost had a whole thing with her own photos, though they never actually got released.”

There’s a feeling that Jamie can only call inadequacy at her words, but Jamie nods. Roy grunts, probably feeling the same. He doesn’t like not being the first choice, but he fucking gets it. It’s not about him.

“Alright,” Jamie says. “But we’re here, yeah? If you need us.” He thinks on it for a moment longer. “And it won’t ever happen again, I promise. We’d never post any of your photos without your permission or nothing.” He can feel Roy nodding behind him. He holds his pinky up. “Promise.”

Keeley smiles and links her pinky with his, shaking on it. “Thanks love.” Her smile grows, looking a little more genuine.

“I mean it, yeah, and I couldn’t even do it anyway,” Jamie says again. “I deleted all our photos when we broke up last time.” Jamie’s phone is on the bedside table and he can’t grab it, but he gestures towards it. “And Roy here won’t let us take any new ones.”

Roy scoffs. “I don’t want photos of me. Take as many of yourself as you want, just leave me and my dick out of it.”

“Seriously? You deleted all of them?” Keeley asks him, her eyes a little wide. “The ones on the apps?” Jamie nods. “You even went through the emails I sent you and stuff?”

Jamie gasps and sits up. “The emails!” He leans over a disgruntled Roy to grab his phone. “I fucking forgot about them.” With his phone lighting up his face, he looks at Keeley. “I’ll find them and delete them right now, swear down.”

Keeley sits up too, looking at him fondly. “You don’t have to, Jamie. I trust you not to leak them.” She looks oddly vulnerable. “We’re dating, love, it’s okay for you to have them.”

Jamie hesitates.

Roy says, “Keeley, would it make you feel better if they were deleted? Ignore what Jamie wants for a second, pretend he isn’t here and think about you.”

Keeley does so, frowning down at the bedding. “I guess I’d like you to delete them.”

“Then I’ll delete them,” Jamie says simply. “Besides, I have you, don’t I?” He winks at her. “You’re way better than a photo.”

The relief on Keeley’s face is clear. Jamie deletes his emails, finding photos and a video—then they’re gone, sent to the trash and then deleted.

“Maybe…” Keeley starts and then looks between Roy and Jamie. “If we do ever want to take nudes or anything, ‘cos we are all dead fit and our photos would be so hot, maybe we could get a seperate camera? One that only we could ever see; not on our phones.”

Jamie brightens at that. “A sexy camera?”

Keeley nods. “Yeah, a sexy camera.”

Roy grunts. “Maybe one day.”

--

It’s Keeley’s trauma, right, so Jamie’s not going to make it about himself.

But the phrase child exploitation material rings through his head all the same.

Keeley had been a child at fifteen, had a silly crush taken advantage of by a teacher and had her photos shared. It makes him feel sick, it makes him beyond angry, and it makes the memory of his dad calling him a man at age fourteen curdle like spoiled milk in his stomach.

--

(“Alright son, let’s just keep this a little secret between us men, yeah? No need to tell your mum about it. She wouldn’t understand.”)

He wakes with a start, his shirt tight around his throat and he tugs at it uselessly.

He doesn’t remember it, not properly, but the words his dad said and the knowledge it happened settle inside his chest. It’s heavy.

And it’s not like he forgot that it happened, he’s just… he’s pushed it down, he’s ignored it for so long.

But he can’t seem to ignore it any more.

He lets out a shaky breath and rolls over, trying to find space in his usual spot between Roy and Keeley. Normally he loves being stuck between them, but right now he wishes the bed were bigger so no one could touch him.

--

He’s in the small back yard of Roy’s house, kicking the ball to himself with the wall. There’s a very light drizzle that been falling steadily, settling on the grass making it shiny and soaking into Jamie’s shirt, making it stick uncomfortably. It’s not a feeling he enjoys but it’s one he can ignore, it’s one he’s used to.

Or, normally he can ignore it. Today he tugs at it, feeling it cling like a spiderweb on his fingers when he tries to make the feeling go away. He shakes his hands out and tries to pretend it’s not happening.

All day Jamie’s been buzzing under his skin, some sort of energy that’s left him bouncing restlessly and desperate for a distraction. He feels wrong and he feels it in every inch of his body.

They had a match yesterday, a 1-1 tie; Dani had scored the only goal off a penalty and it had saved them from a loss but it wasn’t a win, either. Jamie is sure that if Roy came and coached them then they’d have more wins. But Roy rejects the offers from Ted and the encouragement from Jamie and Keeley—so for now, Jamie tries to be satisfied that they’re not losing.

It’s a rest day from training so he can’t even let out the energy on the pitch. He did try and wear himself out in the home-gym but that had done fuck all; so he’d taken himself outside to try and solve it with football.

Football is his go-to solution when he’s restless and normally it works. Today isn’t normal though, today the buzzing is too intense and the rain isn’t helping and his head is just about spinning from it all.

Between kicking the ball and shaking his hands out, he imagines himself being laid out on a cartoon road with one of them big rolling trucks coming right at him. He lays there and the truck gets to him and squishes him down, squeezing and pressing and flattening him out until he’s just a pancake. He’d be like a cartoon character, not actually hurt from being rolled out but instead he’d be so flat that there’s no room for any of the buzzing. Pancake-Jamie would jump up, pose with those cartoon sparkles, then he’d be just fine. He’d kick an equally flattened ball out and it’d all be fine. He’d feel fine. Fine fine fine.

He kicks the ball again and wonders how he can get squashed so thoroughly without actually being crushed. What if he crawled under a mattress and got Roy to lay on it? Press him into the floor or something.

He kicks the ball harder, it rebounds off the wall with force.

“Hey,” Roy calls from the doorway. Jamie traps the ball with his foot and turns to him. “You good out there? Been at it for like an hour.”

Jamie shrugs. “Got lots of energy, is all. You want to join?”

Roy hesitates and Jamie grimaces. Fuck, Roy hasn’t kicked a ball since the fucking surgery. He shouldn’t have asked. He knows Roy’s recovery timeline, he’s still in the strengthening and functional movement exercises phase; low-impact activity like the jarring action of kicking and receiving a ball hasn’t been approved yet, Jamie doesn’t think. Although it should be any day now, they’re at the four month mark and it’s all gradual anyway.

“Alright.”

Oh! Jamie smiles. “Really?” Fuck, maybe it had been approved after all.

Roy takes a few slow steps out and then joins Jamie on the damp grass. He looks stiff, his shoulders rigid with each step and his jaw clenched tight. “Let’s fucking do it.”

“Fuck yeah, grandad, let’s fucking do it!”

The ball that Jamie kicks is too much, too enthusiastic, but Roy traps it easily with only a wince.

“Alright?”

“Fuck off,” Roy growls. He passes back with more restraint than Jamie, but his shoulders loosen and his mouth turns from a grimace into a smirk. “I’ve been doing this my whole fucking life.”

It’s good. They’re just passing really, nothing too big, but it’s the first time since Roy’s began his recovery that he’s even doing this. And Jamie’s not daft, he knows Roy’s not ever gonna play professionally again, but maybe he can still at least get to play it—even if it’s only like this at first.

They carry on for a good ten minutes or so before they fuck it up.

Jamie returns a pass, kicking with ease and a small spray of water that flicks through the air, and Roy steps to the side to reach it and—his knee gives way. “Fuck!” Roy falls to the ground, his hands clenched tight around it.

“Oh shit.” Jamie sprints the short distance to reach him, kneeling in the damp at his side. “Shit, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay.” Roy pants through bared teeth. “Fuck!”

“Ambulance?” Jamie is already pulling his phone from his pocket. His mind is shooting to all the worst possible scenarios; this has undone the surgery, it’s fucked the knee worse than ever, he’s never gonna kick a ball again, he’s never gonna walk again, they’re going to have to chop it off—

“What? No!” Roy takes a pained breath in. “Just fucking- just help me up.”

Carefully, Jamie helps Roy rise to his feet and test his weight. Roy grunts at the motion but stays steady. “I’ve got you.”

At first they move in tiny, shuffling steps; fearful of doing any more damage. But with each step Roy seems to recover a little more confidence and by the time they go back in, he’s able to properly bare weight without swearing. They ignore the wet, grassy footprints they track inside.

“Sit here,” Jamie orders him when they reach the sofa. “I’ll grab you an ice pack and… your pain meds?”

Reluctantly, Roy nods. “Yeah, cheers.”

With an ice pack and the meds in hand, as well as a towel, Jamie makes a quick return to Roy. He still feels like he’s got too much happening under his skin, but he’s able to ignore it in favour of trying to fix the furrow of Roy’s brows.

“Here.” Jamie passes them over and pulls his phone out again. “Should we call Ruth?”

“What?” Roy’s eyes widen. “Fuck no. This fucking stays between you and me. I’m not… I’m not meant to be kicking anything yet, I was being a fucking idiot thinking I could.”

Shit. Not approved. “You want me to keep it a secret?”

Roy rolls his eyes and scrubs his face with the towel. “It’s not a… well, I guess it is.” He gives a little nod and presses his lips together. “Listen… football is my life—you get that. I’ve been doing everything I fucking can to make another life now too but it’s always going to be there, it’s always going to be a part of it. I know it was fucking stupid to do that, I won’t fucking do it again. That’s why we need to keep it a secret, yeah? ‘Cos Ruth and Keeley, they don’t understand, they don’t get it.”

With a slow nod, Jamie agrees. Roy’s not wrong, Ruth and Keeley don’t get it. It’s not just a game to Roy and Jamie, it never has been. It’s something they’ll never be able to explain to them properly either. And Roy has been trying; he’s coaching Phoebe’s team, he’s going to yoga twice a week with his friends, he’s trying hobbies now—he’s clearly trying. It’s not coaching Richmond but it’s not nothing.

But... it’s a secret.

He thinks quickly back to the session he had with Doctor Sharon, thinks about purpose and potential for harm… Roy could get hurt, Jamie is sure, if they had actually fucked his knee up again and undone his recovery and he doesn’t get checked out; that’s potential for harm. This isn’t a safe secret, he decides.

“You gotta tell that physio of yours about it when you see her tomorrow though,” Jamie orders. “Make sure we didn’t actually fuck up your knee further.”

Roy huffs but nods. “Fucking fine.”

“You promise?”

Without hesitating, Roy holds up his pinky and lets Jamie link with it. “There, pinky-promised and everything.”

Jamie’s chest feels a little lighter.

“And you’re gonna sit here and rest it for the day,” Jamie says. “I’ll do the cooking, yeah?”

The growl Roy lets out is of genuine frustration, but he must be in significant pain because he actually agrees. He scowls, settles himself in on the sofa, accepts the ice-pack and meds and lets Jamie take the lead. The lightly damp towel rests over his shoulders.

If Jamie were feeling in a better mood, he’d offer Roy a blow job or something, get all flirty in a way that’d make them both really happy—but he can’t bring himself to do it and he’s not sure why. Instead he shakes his hands out, gives himself a wiggle and grabs Roy his book to read.

The hours pass, the buzzing remains, and Jamie gets started on dinner.

There’s something about Roy’s kitchen that, in the months Jamie’s lived here, has become a place that feels like home. It’s safe. There’s things everywhere that could be thrown, objects that could be weapons, beer in the fridge—and yet it’s so firmly in his mind as Roy’s kitchen that all of that isn’t a problem. It’s like being in his mum’s kitchen; it’s home, it’s safe, no harm will come.

It’s somewhere Jamie can let his guard down. It’s somewhere he can put all of his focus into what’s in front of him so that he can block out anything happening around him. He’s doing that now; pushing the buzzing down, shoving it away, ignoring the sound of Roy reading in the living room—he just focuses on the movement of the knife and the vegetables he’s slicing.

Which is why, when a hand suddenly touches Jamie’s waist, he lets out a yelp and jumps back. The knife is dropped with a clatter, falling into the pile of sliced zucchini and carrot harmlessly. But Jamie’s heart pounds, the sound overwhelming his ears. He whirls around and finds Keeley; she’s got her hands up and is looking at him with wide, sad eyes.

“Sorry!” Keeley gasps. “I didn’t think I snuck up on you! Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

He should tell her she didn’t scare him, she could never scare him, but Jamie’s mouth is stuck. His hands shake. He can still feel the hand on his waist, an invisible pressure on his bare skin. He’s wearing a shirt, it shouldn’t be on his skin but he can feel it.

“Jamie,” Keeley says, her voice low. “You’re alright. It’s just me.”

Jamie nods and blinks rapidly, he knows that. Tears make his eyes start to blur.

“Everything alright?” Roy’s voice carries from the other room.

“Can you come here?” Keeley replies quickly, her voice strained. “Please!”

The sound of Roy’s footsteps should be louder—Jamie should be hearing him thud along the floorboards, he should be going slow and he should be limping; but Jamie can’t hear him. A rushing sound has overtaken his ears and with how blurry his vision is, he can barely see or hear.

A sound escapes him, he can feel it in his throat.

Through a warped bubble, Roy’s voice reaches him. “Jamie, you’re alright. Keeley gave you a fright, but everything’s okay.” A hand touches his and Jamie slaps it, but the skin on skin hit echoes in his brain, reverberating in a loop. “Woah, okay, not touching—got it.”

Not touching. They’re not touching. Jamie blinks quickly, the wobbly view in front of him clearing for a moment as the tears fall. Keeley’s got her hand pressed to her mouth—upset, she’s upset. And Roy’s frowning, but it’s not his angry frown.

Slowly, Jamie lowers himself to the floor and shuffles backwards until he reaches the cabinets. It’s safe, right, nothing can come from behind. Static is running under his skin, the buzzing is too much. He shakes his hands out, tries to flap the energy away but it’s not enough. And his waist, the skin that wasn’t even touched, he can still feel it.

“Jamie,” Keeley says; she’s lowered her hands and is moving to kneel on the floor. She’s still out of reach but she’s getting down to his level anyway. “Can we touch you yet? Give a hug or hold you?”

Jamie’s lip quivers and he shakes his head. “I don’t know.” Being held usually helps, but right now he doesn’t know.

“Okay, that’s not a yes, so we won’t.” Keeley’s reply is quick and careful; and something lightens a little at that. “Until you say yes, we won’t touch you.”

And that… That’s really fucking thoughtful. So fucking respectful. He fucking loves her.

Fuck.

Sobs rip through him, dragging deep from his chest and pouring from his mouth. The feeling, and Jamie doesn’t even know what that feeling is only that it’s too much, consumes him. He buries his face in his knees, curls up tight and lets it all out.

“Upstairs, in his room…” Roy’s voice swims in and out of his head, unclear. Jamie’s missing words. “Maybe… lavender...?”

“Alright,” Keeley’s distant voice says. “...blanket too?”

He misses her leaving, too busy sobbing, but when she comes back his hearing does properly too. Her footsteps make him jerk back, his head making a thunk against the cabinet.

“Not gonna touch you,” Keeley says softly. “Gonna pass you a blanket and the lavender sheep.”

The lavender sheep was new, a little gift from Phoebe after she found out he claimed her bubble bath just for the smell. It was small and fluffy, a soft toy meant for babies probably, but it had the lavender scent infused in it and it was cute as fuck. Keeley passes it over carefully, making sure not to touch Jamie’s hands. The blanket is put next to him.

He drops the sheep in his lap and grabs the blanket, pulling it over himself entirely, hiding himself away. When he’s fully covered up, not an inch of him exposed, he takes a shaky breath. And another, and another; the lavender scent, though gentle, is the only thing he can smell. It helps.

Fuck. He’s not hiding under the bed but it feels similar, it has that same enclosed safety that meant no one could reach him, no one could touch him. He needs to breath and he’s safe so he should be able to. His breathing hitches but he keeps trying, forcing himself to count with every shuddering inhale.

Slowly, so slowly, his breathing starts to settle and his cries stop. The buzzing stops. His brain settles enough to actually start to think clearly.

“Shit,” Jamie breathes out. What the fuck just happened? All that over a fucking hand touching his waist? His girlfriend touching him? Fucking hell.

After a moment, a moment just for himself to feel embarrassed, he pulls the blanket off his head and looks up. They’re both still there, Roy’s got his arms wrapped around Keeley and is leaning some of his weight against the counter, Keeley has her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jamie croaks.

They look at him, eyes wide and relieved.

“Jamie!” Keeley’s eyes are red rimmed. “Can I touch you now?”

Jamie nods and she’s moving, coming down to the floor and pulling him into a hug. It feels so different to the hand that touched him that he melts into it, pulling her closer. He breathes her in, the comforting everything that is Keeley. As he relaxes, she hold him tighter, the squeezing pressure bringing him right back down.

“Sorry, Keels,” Jamie mumbles into her hair.

“No, don’t you say sorry, love,” Keeley shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Jamie denies. “I wasn’t scared.”

Keeley hums, not believing him. “It’s alright to be scared.”

“I was startled, is all. I dunno why I freaked out.”

With a kiss to his forehead, Keeley pulls back. “Well, I’ll make sure I won’t startle you next time either.”

Carefully, Jamie gets up. He shoves the lavender sheep in the front of his hoodie pocket and picks up the blanket—it normally lives in his room, tucked under his bed just in case. It’s never been taken out here before, not for this. But hiding underneath it did help.

He looks at Roy. “Sorry about slapping your hand, babe.”

Roy is shaking his head before he even finishes speaking. “You’re fine.” He holds his hand up to show him. “Didn’t hurt and you got your point across very clearly.” He’s frowning and Jamie can see that it’s a worried frown. Jamie leans closer to him and Roy pulls him into an embrace, giving him a comforting squeeze. “I’m going to finish dinner now—you sit down and rest.”

“No.” Jamie pouts into Roy’s shoulder. “I was meant to be making it. You were meant to sit down and rest.”

Keeley pats his hand. “How about you do the pasta and Roy does the rest of the prep, then I’ll finish it off. That way we’re all making dinner.”

It’s a silly thing to negotiate but Jamie nods. “Deal.”

--

That night, the touch returns.

It’s soft on his waist, lingering and careful. Then it slides up his body, over his chest and neck, until it settles by his ear.

A voice; a woman speaking a language he can’t understand—but he knows the tone that the whisper holds, the emotions coming through.

Jamie startles awake with a gasp. Nausea rushes through him and he jerks up, desperately grappling with the blankets to free himself. He stumbles over Keeley, waking her up, and manages to get to the ensuite bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet.

--

“Are you sure you’re alright today?” Keeley asks him again. They’re walking in to Nelson Road together, Roy already driving away just to avoid a conversation with Ted. They don't normally all drive in together like this but today is different, everyone is off kilter.

“I’m sure, it were just a bad dream, is all,” Jamie says. Both Roy and Keeley had been concerned all morning. And he gets it, he really does, but football will help.

“Hm.” Keeley eyes him before nodding. “Take a break if you need to, or else I’ll tell Ted you’re sick.”

Jamie sighs but agrees. “Alright.” He catches sight of Colin coming down the hallway, hands busy typing on his phone. “See you later, yeah.” Keeley waves him away.

Colin quickly locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket when Jamie gets close, but the tiny bit of tension in his shoulders fades away when he sees who it is. “Morning.”

“Morning!” Jamie nods at the phone where it is half sticking out of Colin’s pocket. “You and your... special friend have a nice night?”

Colin elbows him. “You’ve gotta come up with a better way to talk about them.”

Jamie rolls his eyes—special friend is gender neutral, it’s fine. “Sorry, mate.” He has nothing else to call him unless he gives Michael a fake name… Hm, that’s something to consider.

“And yeah, it was good,” Colin says, mouth quirking up.

“Yeah? What did you do?” Jamie prompts.

They walk into the locker room, the chatter from the others hits them. There’s waves and high fives, the cheerful mood after a day off lingering with them all.

As they move to their cubbies, Colin says, “that’s secret, yeah. A gentleman never tells.”

There’s some whoops and jeers from the team, people understanding what Colin’s saying without any context. Jamie laughs with them, not pushing it even if he is genuinely nosey enough to want to know what Colin does for a date night with Michael.

Jamie hasn’t even met him, the man is a proper secret boyfriend, isn’t he.

--

Jamie’s next session with Doctor Sharon comes around quickly. He’s sat on his chair, got one knee pulled to his chest while the other is tucked under him. A part of him knows he should tell her about his big kitchen freak out but he doesn't want to, not today. Today he needs to talk about everything else.

“You ever notice how everyone has secrets?” Jamie says.

Doctor Sharon hums. “That’s true.”

“Hm. It’s interesting, innit.” Jamie chews on his hoodie drawstrings. “Like, everyone has things they don’t want to tell people. Or like, maybe they can’t tell people.”

“Is this something you’re noticing since our last session?”

Jamie nods. “It’s like all the time now, I can’t help but notice it.”

“Is this something that’s bothering you?”

“Not… bothering me,” Jamie says. He frowns, not sure how to describe it. “I just keep noticing it. People like… keeping secrets or asking me to keep secrets or they’re sharing secrets. Not even serious things either, it just feels like it’s everywhere.”

Doctor Sharon doesn’t say anything for a moment. She’s watching him, probably seeing more than he ever could. “Did something happen?”

Slowly, Jamie nods. “You know the… safe secret thing we talked about? Well, someone told me a secret, right, and it’s definitely an unsafe secret.”

“Was this person a child?”

Jamie shakes his head and explains what happened to Keeley. He doesn’t use her name but tells her about the teacher, the photo and the way his friend searched up the teacher’s name after. The teacher had been arrested, his friend seemed equally comforted and upset by this.

“It’s just… so fucking horrible, isn’t it,” Jamie says afterwards. “That someone would do that. Especially a teacher too, like… kids trust teachers, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do.” Doctor Sharon’s tone is oddly gentle. “A violation like that from anyone is horrible, but when the perpetrator is someone you trust that can be… another sort of hurt.”

He presses his lips together. “Yeah. Another sort of hurt.”

“Jamie…” Doctor Sharon is watching him again, her frown low and worried. “Was this friend… was this friend you?”

“Huh?” Jamie blinks at her. “Oh! No, it’s not me!” He bites his lip. “It was… someone else I’m close to though.”

“Okay.” She lets out a long breath, but still watches him closely. “I won’t ask you to share their name.”

“Cheers.” Jamie tucks his hands into the front of his hoodie. “It’s a secret, is all. But like… it’s not my secret.”

Doctor Sharon nods slowly. “I understand.”

But Jamie does have his own secret, doesn’t he? And it’s been on his mind far too much. He can’t bring himself to tell her now though, the words aren’t ready to come out. But it’s there, sitting heavy on his chest, more present that it ever has been before.

--

They have Phoebe over for dinner the next night. Ruth is working into the evening and won’t be home until at least ten, so the plan is to have Phoebe with them until it’s closer to her bedtime and then Roy will take her home, put her to bed, and wait until Ruth is home. In the off-season they’d either have Phoebe overnight or Roy will spend the evening there, but since the season started up again they do it like this.

“Alyssa just got back from holiday,” Phoebe says as they sit around the table, eating the roast Roy had cooked for them. He tried his hands at making homemade Yorkshire puddings too and they taste alright, even if they are an odd shape. “She got to miss a day of school, which is so cool.”

Roy grunts. “What did your teacher say about that? I’m pretty sure you all only just started up again at school, didn’t you?”

Phoebe rolls her eyes. “We’ve been back at school for five weeks now. That’s ages.”

“Where’d Alyssa go on holiday then? Up to Blackpool or something?” Jamie asks. When he was a kid about Phoebe’s age, he’d always wanted to go to Blackpool. He wanted to go on the rides and shit at that theme park they have. Not that they ever had the money to go, but it was the place most kids in his class went.

“No, she went to Amsterdam with her parents.”

In an instant, Jamie’s stomach clenches. “Oh yeah? I’ve been there before.” He puts his fork down as his appetite fades away. “Took my mum when I got signed, we went on all the tours and stuff. Bloody loved it.” He did love it. He had a great time with his mum. He did. His dad wasn’t even there, it just felt like he was.

Phoebe’s eyes go wide. “Did you see all the flowers too? That’s what Alyssa said, she said there were so many flowers it all looked like a rainbow. And she said they didn’t plant any grass there, only flowers.”

Jamie snickers and Roy rolls his eyes. Roy says, “they definitely have grass too.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says with a nod. “I saw the flowers—and Uncle Roy is right, it’s not all flowers. They have grass.”

Phoebe nods. “That’s what I said. It can’t all be flowers, how else would they play football? You can’t make a pitch in a flowerbed.”

“Exactly.”

“And with that many flowers there’d be too many bees! Did you know Priya in my class is allergic to bees?”

Jamie raises his eyebrows. How would he know that? “Uh, no, I didn’t know that.”

“Uncle Roy.” Phoebe takes a big mouthful of mashed potato. With her food in her mouth, she says in a very muffled voice, “have you ever been to Amsterdam?”

Roy shakes his head. “No. And eat the peas too, not just the potatoes.”

"What- never?" Jamie looks at Roy in shock as Phoebe huffs and scoops some up, shovelling it at her mouth with a frown. 

Roy denies it again and narrows his eyes at Phoebe. “Did any of that go in your mouth or just in your lap?”

Phoebe glances down at her lap. “My mouth.” Then she smiles innocently.

Roy sighs. “If you don’t like peas, then tell me, don’t keep it a secret and pretend.” He gestures towards the kitchen. “I’d cook you a different vegetable.”

“I don’t like any veggies,” Phoebe says, avoiding the peas but easily eating the roast carrot. “Not any.”

Jamie opens his mouth to point out that a carrot is a vegetable, but Roy puts a hand up to stop him, as if sensing it. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to, but veggies are important. I know your mum has explained why you need certain foods.”

Phoebe sighs but nods. “Yes, Uncle Roy.” She eats more of the carrot. “But I don’t like peas anymore, so I won’t eat them.”

It could be the start of a bigger fight if Roy puts his foot down and makes her eat them, but Roy is a man of his word in this just as he is in everything else. “Alright.” He passes Phoebe his plate. “Put all of the peas on mine, I’ll eat them. And then next time we’re going shopping together and you’re choosing what veggies to get.” He narrows his eyes at her pout. “And it’ll be at least three different ones.”

With the pea transfer completed, Roy holds his hand out to her and Phoebe shakes on it. Done deal, easy as that, apparently.

--

Jamie never forgets how good Roy is with Phoebe, not really, but seeing him at dinner really reminds him. I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to seemed to come out of Roy’s mouth so easily, even if it was about something as simple as eating veggies. He made it sound so easy, so natural—of course he wouldn’t make her do something she wouldn’t want to.

(“don’t be such a fucking pussy”)

With a heavy groan, Jamie rolls over and buries his face in Roy’s empty pillow.

Fucking Amsterdam. The memories shoot through his brain, running on repeat.

“Fuck,” Jamie says into the fabric.

He lays there, face hidden, just breathing in the familiar smells, until he hears Roy’s footsteps on the stairs. Then he pokes his head up to watch his silhouette enter and take his shirt off. If Keeley had spent the night too then she’d have whistled and Jamie would have called out, asking for a show—hell, even on nights when Keeley wasn’t there he would do that. Roy would either toss his shirt on the floor or throw it at Jamie with a laugh.

But tonight Jamie stays quiet and just watches.

“You alright?” Roy asks, sliding in beside him. “You’re being suspiciously quiet.”

Jamie hums and wraps his arms around Roy, pulling himself close to attach himself like a limpet. Right now, he wants to be so close someone would have to use a crowbar to pry them apart.

“Something wrong?” Roy whispers into Jamie’s hair.

“Just been thinking too much,” Jamie replies into the skin of Roy’s neck.

Roy makes a sound, something like a growl, and Jamie feels the vibrations of his throat on his cheek. “You want me to grab anything from your room?”

Fuck, that’s really fucking thoughtful. Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not that sort of thinking. I don’t need grounding.”

With a slight shift in position, Roy’s hands are free to slide up Jamie’s back and settle on the back of his head. He holds him closer, the pressure soothing him.

“I’ve been to Amsterdam twice,” Jamie says, his lips brushing Roy’s skin. He doesn’t mean to start talking about it but now he has he knows he has to keep going, if he stops then this will stay locked up inside him forever. “I took my mum, yeah, but that was the second time.”

“Alright.” Roy’s tone is cautious.

It’s easier that he can’t see Roy’s face right now.

“The first time… dad took me.” Jamie feels Roy tense, the muscles beneath him going taught. “It were a gift, right, for my fourteenth birthday. He was sober and trying to be some sort of super-dad, trying to get back with mummy, show her he could be responsible or some bullshit.” Roy’s hand starts to stroke his hair. “She didn’t want a bar of it, but she let us go on holiday together. City had a friendly with Ajax and dad bought tickets, said it would be a good birthday present. And I was so excited, right, ‘cos I’d never been to Amsterdam before and I’d never seen City play a team outside the premier league—I’d only seen international friendlies on telly before.”

Roy takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out. But he doesn’t say anything, he just waits, letting Jamie go at his own pace.

“Only…” Jamie swallows and his voice comes out thick. “Only after the match he said it was time for my real present.” Saying it out loud feels wrong, like his tongue is too big. “He took me to the red light district.” Jamie can feel the way Roy’s body jerks, the flinch that hits him. “Took me to those ladies behind the windows and paid for me to lose my virginity.”

“Jesus.” Roy’s hands hold him impossibly closer, like if he holds him close enough Jamie will be safe from his own words. “Fuck. That must have been traumatising.”

“No, she loved it.”

(Jamie might not remember much but he remembers her voice, the breathy sighs, he remembers the feeling of hands touching him and… that’s about it, but he’s sure she enjoyed herself. She must have, right?

What he does remember is after; he remembers stepping back out into the cool of the night air and the way his dad squeezed his shoulder and laughed. “How was it, son?”

And Jamie can’t remember what he said, he can’t remember what he felt.

But he remembers the way his dad’s head tilted back as he laughed even louder. “Of course she loved it, you’re a man now and you know how to do it right.”

Everything else is a blur.)

Roy makes some sort of noise and it hits Jamie that he’s misunderstood.

“Oh, you mean me.” He doesn’t know what to say to that, so Jamie says simply, “no, I don’t remember it.”

That doesn’t seem to comfort Roy very much, he lets out a sound like he’s been hit. “Fuck. I swear I’m going to fucking kill him.”

There’s something almost comforting in the death threat, like what Jamie has just said is somehow such a terrible thing that it should result in the death penalty. The death penalty isn’t something that should be comforting, probably, but it still makes him let out a relieved breath all the same.

“It wasn’t good, was it?” Jamie asks, looking for the confirmation even though he knows.

“No. It wasn’t good.” Roy sounds pained. “Your dad paid for a fucking adult to have sex with you when you were a kid. You were fourteen,” Roy growls, stressing the word. “Fuck. It’s… fuck, he paid for someone to rape you.”

Keeley was right, having someone sum it all up so simply was really fucking painful. It made it all the more clear how fucked it was.

Fourteen.

He remembers looking at the photo album with his mum – months ago now – and seeing himself at that age; what had struck Jamie was how young fourteen really was. He’d been all hopeful and soft in the face, happy to be going to watch a football match overseas. He was still a fucking kid. Like Keeley had been, she was barely older when that fucking cunt of a teacher did that to her. Fourteen, fifteen—still kids. Even if he had been going through puberty and had figured out his own body, he’d had crushes and shit too—but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t get a choice in it.

Roy was right, it was rape.

Fingers thread through his hair, they scrape against his scalp. Jamie closes his eyes tight and just lets himself be comforted.

“You’re shaking,” Roy whispers.

“I’ve never told anyone before,” Jamie admits in a small voice. “Fucking… unsafe secret, innit.”

Roy’s exhale is like a whine. “Yeah, love, unsafe secret.”

Trembles have started rushing through him, the realisation of what it was hits hard. Roy holds him through it until finally Jamie falls asleep, safe in his arms.

--

Saying it out loud doesn’t really change anything because there’s nothing to really change. But something inside of Jamie does feel a little lighter getting it out, some feeling he hadn’t named feels less present within him.

It doesn’t change how Roy treats him, nor does it change how Keeley treats him when he tells her about it too. Sharing the secret just adds to what they know about him, gives them another part of himself that he’d always kept concealed—and they do what they always do; they hold him close and love him anyway.

“Have you told your therapist?” Keeley asks after he opens up to her.

Telling Keeley had been difficult, the words were all knotted within him and it felt wrong to pull on them to get out of him again, but once he did and it was free—he was glad he pushed through, he was glad he shared another part of him with her.

Jamie shakes his head. “Just you and Roy.”

Keeley looks at him. “I think it might be good for you to talk about it with her too.”

Jamie sighs. “Yeah, I think I probably should.” He bites his lip and looks at her. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Have you ever… told a therapist before? About what that teacher did?”

Keeley’s face cycles though a few emotions, there’s ones Jamie can identify – the eyebrows raised in shock, then the way they scrunch in confusion – and there’s the ones Jamie isn’t so sure about—Keeley bites her lip and looks down, avoiding eye contact as her face shutters into something almost blank.

“No, I never have. It was a secret, really. I’d never told anyone before I told you. And... I’ve never actually been to therapy before,” Keeley admits, her tone quite vulnerable. “I know I encouraged you to go, right, I know I’m being hypocritical, but there’s something quite scary about it.”

Jamie is quiet for a moment. “It is a bit scary, but it really has helped, swear down.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel all… I don’t know—exposed?” Keeley’s arms wrap around herself, holding her stomach. “Opening yourself up like that.”

“Well, a bit.” Jamie wrinkles his nose. “And sometimes it makes me get all up in my head. But it helps, too. I don’t think I ever could’ve trusted anyone as much as I trust you and Roy without Doctor Sharon’s help, you know.” Jamie looks at her. “I want you to get the same help, so you can feel better too.”

Keeley’s face softens, her eyes get a little watery. “Alright, love. I’ll give it a try.” She sniffs and blinks quickly, recovering her composure. “I’ll find a different therapist though, not Doctor Fieldstone—I know she’s good, but I don’t think I should be seeing a sports psychologist.”

“Good idea,” Jamie says. He thinks back to his first few sessions with Doctor Sharon in this time, reflecting on them in a way he hasn’t for a long time. “Right when I started with her she offered to find me someone who like… specialised in trauma and shit, so there’s probably someone who’ll be best for you too.”

Keeley nods and grabs his hand. “Could you... ask her for a list for me?”

Jamie pulls her hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “Of course, love.”

Way back before Jamie ended up back here, it had been Keeley who had taken Jamie to Doctor Sharon, and now Jamie gets to help Keeley in the same way. It’s hardly anything happy but it makes him smile all the same.

--

He tells Doctor Sharon at the next session. He stumbles over the words, tripping up until it all spills out in a mess. It’s not a nice thing, this secret, but as he speaks he brings it into the light and shows her another part of himself that no one knew about. It’s difficult, just as difficult as it was telling Roy and Keeley, but it leaves him with that same sense of lightness too.

It wasn’t often that Jamie could really understand how Doctor Sharon felt about something he’s shared, but when he looks up through the screen he is certain that the expression on her face is entirely sad.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Jamie,” Doctor Sharon says, voice as steady as ever.

“Yeah,” Jamie says. He’s kind of sorry too, though he’s not sure what for. “It were pretty fucked, weren’t it?”

“Yes. It’s pretty fucked,” Doctor Sharon says and Jamie actually laughs, startled at her repeating it.

Just saying out loud hasn’t fixed all the hurt, hasn’t made it go away—but it’s a start.

--

“Jamie!” Phoebe calls out when he arrives with Roy.

Ruth gives him a quick “thanks guys!” before she shoots out the door, off to pick up an extra shift at the hospital. There’d been a gastro breakout amongst the staff and everyone was scrambling, desperate to fill in the gaps in the roster. The week ahead is looking like it would be a challenging one for Ruth.

“Hiya,” Jamie says and walks through the house. Roy leads the way, already moving to the kitchen. He’d brought a bag of fresh groceries, ready to restock his sister’s fridge just because he can. “You alright?”

Phoebe smiles at him. “Come here! I need to tell you something!”

Jamie raises his eyebrows, gives Roy a little wave and then follows Phoebe down the hallway.

“Alright, what’s up?”

She stops outside her room and turns to him. “You can’t tell Uncle Roy, it’s a secret.” Jamie’s stomach drops. “But look at this!”

She opens her door and a cat sprints past.

“Oh no!” Phoebe gasps. “Dauphine!”

“Wait—” Jamie blinks. “The secret was a cat?”

Phoebe is already running after Dauphine. “She’s my cat!” She calls out. “Mum and I rescued her! And I was going to surprise Uncle Roy with her when he came to my room!” She’s already around the corner by the time she finishes replying, her voice fading.

“Is that a fucking cat?!” Roy yells from the kitchen.

Jamie nods to himself; that one is a safe secret for sure. And not a very well kept one either.