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Jamie’s mum’s bicep has You’re nothing without me scribbled on it, and it’s for that exact reason that Jamie thinks Soulmates are bullshit. His mum’s the nicest person Jamie knows, and if Fate or whoever thought that giving her an utter limpid cock for a Soulmate in the form of Jamie’s father was fair, then Jamie wants no part of a system like that.
Jamie’s inner thigh says Fútbol is life! Spanish spelling and exclamation point and large letters and all. So football is significant to his Soulmate - big fuckin’ whoop, like Jamie would ever settle down with anyone who didn’t like it, ‘cause football’s important to him, too, and his dad took one look at his words when Jamie was a little sexy baby and spent the rest of his life pressing his son into a sport that he loved.
Jamie loves football, too. He doesn’t love his father.
“It’ll be some Spanish groupie bird,” Dad likes to joke, on nights when there’s a cig between his fingers and whiskey on his breath. “Some dumb bitch who doesn’t know English and thinks she understands the fucking game.”
Part of Jamie wants to defend his Soulmate every time Dad opens his big fuckin’ mouth, but the other part of Jamie - the part that wins - leaves it alone. He won’t say shit to his father, and Soulmates are bullshit, anyway; everyone wins. Unless Jamie’s Soulmate is really keen on meetin’ him, which would be too bad for her, then.
(He takes a couple of Spanish classes in school, but - )
Keeley didn’t care about that shit. Keeley knew that Soulmates could be nothing, because she wasn’t born with words. “I’ve spent half my life thinking nobody wanted me,” she’d told him. “And now I don’t give a fuck.”
Jamie had been fine with that, but things hadn’t worked out between ‘em, and now it seems like she's making eyes at fucking Roy - and Jamie’s on his own again. He takes to asking his various one-night stands if they speak Spanish, turnin’ them away if they say they do. He can’t meet her, not now. It’s too late for her, she’s missed the goddamn boat, and if that bothers her, she can just fuck right off, because Jamie’s never going to let somebody treat him like his dad treated his mum, never.
Jamie’s still fresh off his break with Keeley when goddamn Ted Lasso signs a new player and completely fucks up every single part of Jamie’s life.
So Jamie knows he’s bi, yeah? He’s never come out to no one, not even to his mum or Keeley, and God forbid his father ever find out that he’s slept with men before. God fucking forbid.
And Lasso’s already pissing him off, with his positivity and his mind games, and now he wants to sign on someone new to steal Jamie’s striker spot and mess with his head even more, that’s it, innit?
So when Jamie hears Dani Rojas shout, “Fútbol is life!” for what turns out to be the first of many, many times, he briefly entertains the idea of just lying face-down on the pitch until somebody in a mower shreds him to little tragically-talented bits.
Then he thinks that he’s fucking lucky his football shorts are long enough to hide the shit on his thigh, he’s lucky no one’s scrutinized him in the showers, because Colin and Isaac would be giving him way too much shit right now if they knew.
Rojas speeds around the field like some sort of mad, grinning dog. He’s fucking singing, and high-fiving everyone he sees, and Jamie has no idea how this is supposed to work.
So he’s finally found his Soulmate, and his Soulmate’s another man, and his Soulmate’s on his football team; not only that, but his Soulmate is insanely good at football (to an insufferable degree), and judging by everything Jamie has ever known his whole life long, his Soulmate’s going to end up breaking his heart because he thinks he has the right to.
So Jamie is not going to tell him what he knows. He bats away Rojas’s cheery high-fives, ignores his confused frowns, scowls when he scores a goal and nearly grits his teeth down to nothing when he shouts, again, “ Fútbol is life! ”
Let them all think Jamie hates Rojas for his talent - but fuck, that’s not helping, either - and not for any other reason. Jamie sits jealously by during training and relishes the time he has before Keeley finds out, because if anyone’s seen his thighs, it’s her.
He distracts himself while cleaning up, takes shots at the goal-bar just because he can, just so he can not think about what his body so desperately wants him to think about.
“Wow!” Rojas says, grinning wide. “That was on purpose, yes?” And it’s the first time he and Jamie have spoken one-on-one, and the guy doesn’t seem to care that Jamie fucked his high-five over, and he doesn’t seem to think that he needs to be better than Jamie at football, either.
It’s like the universe hates Jamie Tartt or something.
Rojas wins. Jamie gets all pissed, and Rojas runs off cheering, “ Fútbol is life! ” Again.
Every time he says it, Jamie’s thigh tingles. He hates it. He wonders what words of his are on Rojas’s body, and he hates himself for wondering that, too.
Keeley seems to want to pester him, but thankfully, it’s still too close to their break-up for her to be on good terms with Jamie again. She does send a lot of insane glances his way, though - he pretends she’s not there, and it helps.
Rojas gets injured, and Jamie resolutely does not give a shit. Lasso calls a meeting to talk about ghosts and some other weird American rubbish and Jamie doesn’t go.
But later, he burns his old boots. He thinks about his mum, and he thinks about football, and how it’s the thing he loves most in the world, and how that sort of makes him want to die sometimes, though he’d never tell anyone.
Rojas brings booze. The more of it Jamie drinks, the more light reflects off of Rojas’s long dark hair. Jamie might pull him aside. Jamie might show Rojas the words on his leg, ask to see what and where Dani’s are, press his drunken lips to Dani's own and just see what happens from there.
Jamie goes home alone.
He wakes up with a hangover and crust in his eyes. His phone's provided him with a slew of texts from Keeley that he doesn’t look at, because apparently, Man City has just recalled his contract.
Dad’ll be happy about that. And maybe Jamie will, too, even if Ted Lasso is a goddamn traitor. Maybe it’s better this way. He won’t have to see Keeley. He’ll be on a team where people actually respect his talent. No more sharing showers with hairy old granddads. And Dani -
Rojas has texted him something, too - looks like some video of him at the goalposts - but Jamie doesn’t watch it, because he notices in the thumbnail, just off the edge of frame, a familiarly slanted bit of script poking out above the rim of Rojas’s sock.
Jamie’s stomach turns, and he deletes the video. He’s Dani Rojas’s Soulmate, and Dani Rojas - his Soulmate - will never know that.
And it’ll be better for the both of us in the long run, Jamie tells himself, dragging himself out of bed to begin packing a bag of shit for Manchester, because it has to be.