Work Text:
It’s almost midnight and Keeley can’t sleep. She’s tried all the usual methods to wind down: herbal tea, a boring marketing book, fifteen minutes of meditation, and a wank. The orgasm she finally manages is weak, even though she’s helped along by her favorite vibrator. She can’t calm her mind or her body.
As she lays in bed for a second hour, she finally admits to herself what she really needs: Roy. They’ve been on a break for about a month while Keeley gets her PR firm up and running, without a definite end in sight. She knew she couldn’t spend the time with Roy that he wanted and deserved, so she chose to begin the inevitable sooner rather than later. They’re still friendly when they see each other, usually at Richmond matches or related events, but there’s a distance between them. Of course there’s distance; she’d asked for it. But still, it fucking hurts that she doesn’t sleep next to her best friend anymore.
Keeley has been through a lot of breakups, but never any that were as destabilizing as this one. She expected to miss him, but hadn’t considered all the small ways he made her life better that she now had to do without: making her toast in the mornings when she hit the snooze button too many times, watching TV shows he didn’t care about just so he could hear her laugh, hugging her to him as they waited for a taxi in the cold rain, his lips brushing her forehead.
Roy was always able to fall asleep within minutes, which was either sweet or really fucking annoying, depending on her mood. The insane control he had over his body as an athlete somehow extended to sleep too. But if Keeley couldn’t sleep, he would often help her calm down, talking about nothing special in the dark as she laid her head on his chest, the rumble of his voice eventually calming her thoughts.
She wants his calming presence right now, the warmth of his body next to hers, the comfort of knowing that he would stay up late to talk if she wanted to. She’s had her busiest week yet, endless meetings with investors and cold calls to potential clients, and she just needs to hear a familiar voice.
Sad and desperate, she makes a selfish choice to call him. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and wonders if her number is still set to override the do not disturb mode he sets at night.
She pictures him in his bedroom, which was decorated by a professional who thought all footballers wanted their homes to be sleek and minimalist and deathly boring. She never spent much time there because Roy preferred to be in her house, but now she wishes she had so she could better picture what he’s up to. Did he buy new bedsheets like she’d been suggesting for ages? Had he taken down the framed photos of the two of them that were on his dresser next to Phoebe’s football photos? She wonders if she was selfish for basically making Roy move in with her. Did he want to spend more time at his house?
He would’ve said something, though. He knows his fucking boundaries. She’s the one who has issues fucking spitting them out, who lets her anxiety fester until she explodes in a way she regrets. Good thing Roy doesn’t have to be afraid of her explosions anymore.
Their current break was technically a mutual decision but was a response to her breakdown on her birthday in September. They’d booked a table at a posh restaurant to celebrate. Keeley had an important work call the next morning and should have asked Roy if they could switch the reservation to the next day. But she didn’t want to risk upsetting him, so instead she sat through multiple courses and wine with her teeth clenched, thinking about all the emails piling up in her inbox. At home afterwards, Roy had wanted to have sex. He kissed her neck while she was trying to skim through her inbox, and she snapped at him and then sank onto the carpeted floor and cried with her dress half-unzipped.
Roy sat down on the carpet with her, his dress shirt unbuttoned, and spread his hand across her back. He suggested solutions that were as logical as possible given that he had no idea what she really did all day, unfamiliar with the specifics of her so-called email job. He let her cry until she definitely had makeup melting down her face, her setting spray giving up in the face of so much moisture.
Once she calmed down, she allowed herself to say out loud what had been eating away at her for weeks. She couldn’t give Roy enough care and attention. She constantly felt guilty about bailing on date nights and afternoons with Phoebe, arriving home from work after he’d already gotten into bed.
Keeley tried so hard to avoid this. Roy had told her she wouldn’t have time for him anymore and so it felt cruel to ask for a breather, like she was letting his anxiety win out. She’d refused to consider it until Rebecca reminded her that Roy was a grown man. Even though he’d be hurt, he would understand. He would move forward. So with that hope in mind, Keeley said:
“I think I need a break. A long one.”
They resolved to remain friends, even though neither of them knew what that would look like. Yeah, she was friendly with Jamie, but she didn’t exactly look to him for emotional support. And her split with Jamie had been final. No weird limbo state where they might get back together if Keeley decided she could handle it. It was uncharted territory for them both, was the point.
She’d done well for the first couple weeks after the breakup. She had more time to work without feeling like a twat about it, and could carve out a couple hours to actually relax. But slowly, like she’d feared, she started to miss Roy once she understood just how alone she was, waking up by herself, driving to the office she’d rented that wasn’t much bigger than her bedroom, and had only a desk and a small seating area. She’d work there for the entire day without any real human interaction; an endless list of emails didn’t count.
When she couldn’t stand the solitude, she went to the coffee place down the street and started to make conversation with the barista just for someone to talk to, but the barista assumed she was flirting and tried to put her number in Keeley’s phone. She stopped going to the coffee shop after that. The girl behind the counter didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, really, but Keeley was frustrated at another person misinterpreting her friendliness.
Keeley saw Rebecca sometimes for drinks or dinner, but she was busy too, and it wasn’t the same as going home to a partner every night, a built-in person to talk about the day with. She was tired and lonely and angry at herself for thinking she could do all of this alone.
Even Rebecca, her only friend who had a remotely comparable story where she’d been thrown into an important job and told to figure it out, had an entire team of people reporting to her who could help her out in times of crisis. Keeley knew she was smart and creative and might be on the road to being a killer boss herself one day, but there was so much to learn and no one around to help her.
The process of pitching herself and her business to get work was more exhausting than she’d anticipated, and she consistently fell asleep at two or three in the morning. Tonight she tried to get into bed at 10pm as a treat to herself, and her body had rebelled. So now she’s on the never-advisable route of calling her ex while she’s on the verge of tears.
“Hello? Keeley?” Despite the late hour, Roy answers quickly. Concern — almost panic? — tinges his voice.
“Hi,” she says, feeling silly and small. Now he’s worried about her. She didn’t want that.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, sorry. Yeah. Erm, I couldn’t sleep, and I was wondering how you were doing because we didn’t really get to catch up after the Liverpool match. I shouldn’t have called, I know it’s midnight, but I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh.” Roy sounds considerably calmer. “Don’t worry about it. I was up late.”
“Doing what?” She presses and hopes he’ll allow it.
He must miss talking to her too because he continues, “I’m reading this book Beard lent me about octopus brains. They’re so complex, it’s mental. I can’t put it down.”
His voice is soft, like he’s tired but hasn’t gone to sleep yet due to pure excitement.
“I thought all nonfiction writers were pricks,” Keeley teases lightly.
“This one doesn’t make me feel like an idiot.”
“Right. That’s good.”
There’s a pause.
“Erm, is there something you wanted to talk about?” he asks gently. He’s not trying to push Keeley off the phone, she knows, but he wants to understand what’s going through her head. It’s late, after all. If only she knew what she wanted; maybe she wouldn’t be on the phone at all, then.
“Just wanted to hear what’s new with you at the club. And with Phoebe,” she adds. She’s been in touch with Roy’s sister Rachel a bit over text, so she doesn’t actually need the Phoebe update, but she’s not above a little white lie to keep Roy on the phone.
He tells her about Phoebe’s last two football matches, and the afternoon last weekend when he went bowling with her and her friends and their parents. Keeley wonders if Phoebe’s friend Johanna’s mum is still single, but she doesn’t ask.
The stories start off stilted, as they succumb to the awkwardness of being unsure about the exact nature of their relationship, but slowly Roy grows more comfortable. He grumbles about one of Phoebe’s classmates who was afraid of all the germs in the bowling alley and refused to join in. Phoebe insisted on bowling without the bumpers, but grew frustrated when her balls kept sliding into the gutter.
“You probably haven’t had time for any bowling recently,” Roy says.
Keeley laughs. “I wish.”
She gives him the upbeat highlights about work at first: she’s signed a few new clients, and she might soon be making enough to upgrade her office. It’s a little strange to talk about work as if it’s not the reason why they’re not lying in bed together, talking about this in person. Roy tries to match her light tone, but she can tell that he doesn’t believe the sunny version she’s selling him.
It’s just as well, she supposes. She wouldn’t want him to think that work was suddenly manageable because she dumped him.
“So you’re getting enough sleep, and all that? Other than tonight,” he adds. It’s nearly one in the morning, and she usually gets up at six or seven.
She considers lying, but there’s no reason to. And it’s nice to talk to the person who knows exactly how hard she’d pushed herself this past summer, and how terrified she was of fucking everything up. How terrified she still is. Rebecca is always around for a pep talk, but she’s always so confident Keeley will do well. Rebecca found her stride at the club, so it’s a given that Keeley will find hers, too. It’s unnerving, and Keeley hates to disappoint her.
Keeley’s heart warms at the concern in Roy’s voice. He still cares. Thank fuck for that.
“Erm, when I can,” she hedges. He’s silent, urging her to say more.
She crumbles then and tells him about the stress dreams where she wakes up thinking she’s late for a meeting all the way across the city, the detailed revenue reports she needs to create for her investors, and the acid reflux that never goes away.
Roy is comforting, his voice a soothing hum in her ear. She’s Keeley fucking Jones, he reminds her without saying those exact words. Her chest feels lighter just from saying her anxieties aloud. Her problems seem smaller now, surmountable at least. If she doesn’t send the quarterly revenue report in exactly the right format, the investors will ask her to fix it. She can do that.
“Thanks for listening to me talk,” she says. When you don’t have to, she wants to add, but doesn’t.
“You know, you can always call me.” Roy’s voice is soft, and Keeley wants to cry. “I want to be friends, even if we’re not — We can be friends.”
Keeley doesn’t know how to be friends with someone she still wants to date, but is choosing not to. She’s never done this before, but she’s mature enough to take things one week at a time.
They keep chatting for a while longer, and when she hangs up, it’s with the conviction that they’ve talked about everything they wanted to.
Improbably, despite all the work she has waiting for her, Keeley puts her phone down on her nightstand and falls asleep within ten minutes.
In the morning, she feels more refreshed than she has in months. Maybe, just maybe, she and Roy can be friends while she finds her feet again.