Chapter Text
The pitch is empty. Dillon climbs the steps in the stands and hesitates at the row where Jamie Johnson sits a few seats in. He’s on his phone, in his grey and orange hoodie, crutch propped up on the seat on the far side of him. He looks up from his phone when Dillon weakly clears his throat and smiles slightly.
Jamie gestures to the seat beside him and Dillon sits. For a few moments neither of them speak. Jamie turns back to his phone and Dillon takes large gulps from his water bottle before looking out at the pitch. Already, the final match as a phoenix player feels far away, although it had only been some hours ago. It was a good match, the best he’s ever felt too, with nothing to hide.
Jamie puts his phone away after a couple of minutes and glances at Dillon, “Bet you’re excited aren’t you? For Foxborough?”
Dillon shakes his head, “I’ve decided, I’m not going.” he says, “I’m staying here, signing to Newport.”
“Really?” Jamie asks. Huge club like Foxborough and he threw it away, it feels weirdly familiar.
Dillon nods, “Feels right here. Like I’m safe.”
Jamie looks at him. He feels like he has questions but he can’t find the words nor the bravery to ask them. Instead he just nods and looks back down at the pitch. He misses it, being down there and not just up in the crowds.
“I wish I could play here again.” he voices, eventually.
“Hey,” Dillon says, gently knocking their knees together, “Maybe you will.”
Dillon’s eyes scream hope and future and Jamie can’t decide what exactly it is that has his chest tightening and his fingers tingling.
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Jamie likes the new t-shirt. The cool blue contrasting the heated red of the phoenix kit. And he’s glad it’s the same as Dillon’s. He thought they were heading for separate teams and contrasting shirt colours, going from Kingsmount to being flung to other sides of the footballing world, the further the better. But they had always been colliding, hadn’t they, and Jamie doesn’t mind half as much as he used to, feels warm and safe when they both wear the same. When they’re both on the same side.
Above him the sky is dark and stars blink. Around him the air is cool like the colour of his kit. Beneat him, the grass spikes at him, piercing through his shirt. And beside him, also lying in the centre circle of the pitch, is Dillon.
Earlier in the evening saw their first Newport match. The goal they scored together. Jamie’s not felt it in so long, not in front of a crowd like that: The adrenaline, the euphoria, the excitement of scoring…
He put the flip in his chest when Dillon hugged him down to the goal, to winning. But he still feels it now, without the pitch or the crowds or the football. Boggy would point out the common denominator- Dillon- but Jamie is sure there must be something else.
“I’m dead proud of ya, mate, you know that?” Jamie says eventually, turning to Dillon. The pitch’s floodlights make Dillon look as if he’s glowing.
Dillon looks back at him and smiles, “You’re proud?” he nudges Jamie’s arm with the back of his hand, a touch Jamie’s hyper aware of, “Mate, I’m proud! Look at what you’ve done, you made it!”
Jamie smiles. Dillon’s turned, now staring up at the stars, but Jamie stares at the side of his face, “We’ve both come a long way, ‘aven’t we?”
Dillon turns and faces him again, so that he’s close and his eyes sparkle, “Yeah we ‘ave.”
Jamie’s chest flip flops again. Perhaps it’s still the win, dancing around inside of him, the party afterward, the pride in Mike’s eyes. And Dillon just reminds him of it all because Dillon is now an inescapable part of his future. And his present. Even his past.
“You know, I’m sorry.” Dillon says after a while, “Everything I said to you back then.”
Jamie feels fingers lightly brush against his arm, soft and cautious. He turns his head on it’s side so his cheek is tickled by the grass, forgetting his voice for a moment, “It’s fine.” he says, “Gave as good as I got, didn’t I?”
Dillon laughs slightly and nods, “Guess you did.” his fingers leave Jamie’s arm as he sits up abruptly, “We’d better get going.” he says.
He stands and brushes himself down before holding a hand down to Jamie. Jamie takes it and let’s Dillon haul him to his feet. The momentum makes him stumble a little close to him, and he thinks the darkness of the night is hiding a blush on his cheeks. And he feels it in his chest again, something that feels in between flying and aching. It leaves him breathless.
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Jamie misses his old team but he gets on well with the Newport lot. They’re talented and welcoming. They’re more mature than any other team Jamie’s known and he and Dillon fit right in. There’s weekly gatherings, for takeaways or in the ice cream parlour. There’s go kart racing sometimes, too, and trips out to London or to stadiums for big games.
But sometimes Jamie likes these things when it is just he and Dillon, too. They practise lightly, in the park after school more often than not, or they go to one another’s to play fifa. Or they get fish and chips and eat it at one of those high tables that look cool to sit on but are really rather uncomfortable.
“Since when were you two so close?” Boggy asks Jamie during a science lesson, when Jamie mentions he’s busy with Dillon that evening.
Jamie shrugs, “What d’you mean? We’ve been friends for ages.”
“I know but it feels…” Boggy flails his arms slightly as though reaching for the right words, “like you’re hanging out even more. I barely see you anymore.”
Jamie frowns, “I’m sorry Boggy, I didn’t mean to- why don’t you come with us, today, we’re going to the park.”
“Are you sure?” Boggy asks, feeling quite like he might be intruding.
“Of course I am.” Jamie assures him, “It’ll be fun.”
It’s fun. And it’s fine. But he could tell Dillon looked a little disappointed when Jamie didn’t show up alone. And he can’t understand why he feels exactly the same.
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Phoenix is still growing. Jamie likes to go to the games and cheer them on from the side of the pitch, catch up with Alba and the others. Their final game in the league they throw a party in the common room. And all the old team is there too and it feels like coming home.
They play music through the speakers and eat pizza and drink cheap orange and apple juice from plastic cups. And they settle down to play games, and it’s not long before it becomes truth or dare.
After a long passage of dares, Dillon chooses truth to calm the group down. But Freddie’s eyes gleam like he has the most daring question out there and Dillon regrets his choice.
“Have you ever had a crush on a teammate?”
There’s a chorus of ooohs from everyone around the circle. Jamie tries to join in but his chest has knotted again, it does that sometimes now, and he just ignores it every time.
“As in Phoenix or Newport?” Dillon asks after blushing and grimacing and trying not to look up at anyone.
“Any team you’ve ever been on.” Freddie replies. He’s leaning forward eagerly for the answer.
Dillon shrugs, “I’ve not really liked anyone before.”
“What about Elliot?” Alba starts.
“He weren’t on a team.” Dillon points out, “Anyway I don’t exactly know if I liked him.”
“Oh come on, there must be someone.” Eric says.
Jamie plays with the bracelets on his wrist. It’s an invasion of privacy, he thinks, to make Dillon answer such a question. That’s why he’s uncomfortable. That’s why he feels his insides turn to jelly.
Dillon shrugs, leaning his hands back behind him and swaying his leg, “Maybe Harry, when I was younger but,” he shrugs again, “I’m not really sure.”
Jamie looks up then, across at Dillon who meets his eyes briefly before looking away again and sitting back up.
“Anyway, there’s your answer, sorry it’s not exciting.” he reaches for the empty cup in the middle of the circle- their makeshift spinner- and spins it.
It lands on Zoe who chooses dare before Dillon can even ask.
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Late in the night, when games became some kind of dancing, Jamie finds his way outside. He assumes the main pitch to be locked but the floodlights are on and they spotlight a figure running, kicking a ball into a goal.
Jamie heads onto the pitch, ducking under the short white fencing and onto the grass. Dillon catches sight of him when he lifts his head from picking up the ball in the goal.
“You alright?” Dillon asks him as he walks over.
“Yeah. Bored of failing to dance.” Jamie replies.
Dillon smiles understandingly and places the football between them on the startline in the centre circle. “One on one?” he asks. Jamie only grins in response before a short and messy game begins.
It ends when Jamie hooks his foot around Dillon’s while trying to get the ball. It sends them both falling to the ground, Jamie on top of Dillon, so that their noses almost brush and Jamie can feel Dillon’s heart hammering fast and heavy in his chest.
“That was a foul.” Dillon says although his tone is amused, as he shoves Jamie off of him.
Jamie falls down beside him, laughing and panting. “Sorry.” he manages eventually. Dillon smiles and shakes his head, still out of breath.
It’s not the first time they’ve ended up here, Jamie thinks, lying in the middle of the pitch in the dark, hands close enough to hold.
When they’ve calmed down, Dillon seems troubled, staring at the stars like they’ve told him something he doesn’t like.
“You okay?” Jamie asks.
“I lied.” Dillon says, half to the stars before turning to face his friend. Jamie frowns.
“About what?”
“In there. Truth or dare. I lied.”
Jamie shrugs, “So? It’s just a game.”
“I know but…” Dillon sits up and mutters, quite into his lap, “it’s just that wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Jamie asks, also sitting up. Dillon looks back at him. Jamie doesn't know why his heart is beating out of his chest. He can’t remember how to breathe, how to think.
Dillon turns a little to him and Jamie is only aware of his eyes and how they glance down his face. And he’s aware of Dillon’s hands, tentative, on his cheeks but he still can’t work out what’s happening until Dillon kisses him.
It’s a small kiss. In fact it’s barely a kiss because Dillon pulls away at once, drops his hands. “I’m sorry.” he says before standing up hurriedly. “I’m sorry.” he says again and makes to walk away
Jamie’s head is a spinning mess (like their makeshift plastic cup spinner; out of control and hard to discern the direction it’s pointing) but he manages to stand up and grab at Dillon’s wrist.
“Don’t be.” he blurts, making Dillon turn back around.
“Huh?”
“Don’t be sorry.” Jamie says, tugging at Dillon’s wrist to pull him closer. He reaches a hand up to Dillon’s face and when he touches his cheek, Dillon smiles,
“Really?” he asks, watching as Jamie nods hurriedly.
Dillon kisses him again, longer, more confidently. One kiss then another and another. And Jamie kisses him back every time until they’re smiling too much to kiss. Jamie presses their noses together instead, and their foreheads, before letting out a breathy sigh.
“Wow.” he whispers, much to himself.