#sorry for lack of context but I'll hint that this is the product of me daring to ask: what if the signal went WRONG

[lunar-years]

ok happy wip wednesday everyone xxx I had a burst of inspiration today and now my unnamed rjk friends with benefits fic is at 22k words which means I'm giving you an extra-long sneak peak :)

Please enjoy this little snippety snippet:

The breakdown that had been building all day finally came once he sat down in his driver’s seat and realized, promptly, that he didn’t feel capable of putting the car into gear. Beyond that, driving home felt like a herculean effort, and once he got there he wouldn’t be able to turn on the telly, because it was still set to Sky Sports from the night before, and all the pundits were going to be talking about were him. He couldn’t log on to his socials, either, because the fans were all going to be talking about him, and not in the good way, and besides that he didn’t want to look at his mobile because his dad might’ve called, or might not’ve called, and Jamie didn’t even know which one was worse one way or the other anymore. He was out now for the next three matches. That were bad enough as it was. Add in that Roy might not even talk to him now, might go back to that terrible time when he'd refused to coach Jamie directly and make Nate or Beard do it instead, and things were a rightful misery. Jamie didn’t have any idea how to make it up to him. Roy being so adamant about not mixing work with whatever else they got up to, even his best apology blowjob wasn’t likely to suffice. He wondered, too tired to feel all that desperate about it, if this was the end of all of that, too. Roy probably wouldn’t want to fuck him again after such a display, and Jamie could hardly blame him. He shouldn’t feel such grief over it, honestly. Jamie had known from the beginning the sex was temporary. Just a bit of fun. And now he’d gone and botched even that, which was probably always something that was bound to happen, given that it was him. But just as well, there it was. It had happened now, and Jamie didn’t feel resigned to it like he was supposed to, he felt…hollow. Hurt.  That was his own fucking fault, too.  It was too much to think about. More than anything, he wanted to shut off his brain for even an hour. As that weren’t an option, he settled for the next best thing—hitting the steering wheel so hard it made his hand throb and then bursting promptly into tears about it, right there in the Richmond car park.  //

He didn’t know how long he sat there pathetically crying, but eventually there was a gentle knock on the window. Keeley. Jamie blinked twice just to confirm it was really her and not a hallucination, like them people who got stuck in the desert and then imagined springs of water just because they were so desperate for it. She smiled at him kindly through the window, looking solid enough, and then tapped it again with her finger and gestured for him to roll it down.  “What are you still doing here?” he asked as soon as he’d done so, swiping at his face and trying not to be deeply embarrassed at her finding him in such a state. Usually Keeley disappeared with Rebecca immediately after their matches, off for cocktails and gossip or whatever it was the two of them got up to. He'd never expected her to show up. Now, Keeley stared at him with big, soft eyes that made Jamie want immediately to start crying again. She didn’t answer him immediately. “Oh babe,” she whispered instead, bringing a handkerchief up to his face and swiping lightly at this cheeks. “Care if I join you?” Jamie nodded, flipping the lock. Keeley walked around the boot and rematerialized in the passenger side, immediately pulling him towards her over the centre console and stroking through his hair before he could even process it was happening, like she was his guardian fairy, or whatever.  Ridiculously, Jamie’s brain chose then to remember the time she’d called his car pavlovian. Couldn’t be in here without wanting to jump his bones. Well Keels, he thought, letting out a clipped laugh that sounded more like a choke and made Keeley's grip in his hair tighten, look how far we’ve come. There was decidedly nothing sexy about him getting snot all over her Richmond windbreaker as he sobbed into her shoulder, sometimes letting out that hysterical, barked laugh. He couldn't stop. Keeley's hair was frizzy-soft today, the ends tickling his neck where her ponytail draped over him, and the edge of the console was pressing into his side unpleasantly, but he didn’t want to move, either. He didn’t want her to go away.  “I was worried about you when you didn’t answer my six messages, love,” Keeley said softly, pressing her lips against his hairline.