OVERKILL ★ CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
(All Loose Ends, Sewn Together.)

JAMIE HATES FUNERALS AS MUCH as the next person.

Scratch that. He actually might hate them more.

Growing up with his mum estranged from her own family and his dad being . . . well, his dad, he didn't have many familial ties. The figures in his childhood are blurred mostly, with hazes of football teammates and school friends and the ins and outs of his father. The only stable people in his life since he'd been a child are his mum and Simon. And, hopefully Jamie doesn't jinx it, he hopes neither kick the can soon. They're both healthy enough, and Jamie still forces his mum into a few yearly checkups even when she insists she's grown past the need.

(No one will ever grow past the need of checkups. He can't believe she'd say that to him.)

So, the thought of going to a funeral scared Jamie to no end. He never thought he'd grow close with other people, so his mind immediately assumed for so long that the first funeral he'd ever attend would be for Simon, or—God forbid—his mother.

He doesn't think his mind can linger on that thought without getting sick.

Plus, just the thought of funerals alone perplexes him in a disturbing way. It's a congregation of people to mourn someone who died, but everyone's dressing in black? What about the person's favorite color? And then they get buried under the ground, along with the millions of other people who've died. People walk by graveyards and don't care enough to read the names, and don't know the stories. Someone who dies is reduced to nothing. And that opens a completely different can of worms, like who would mourn Jamie?

But he can't think of that. There's a reason he doesn't like to be alone.

So, yeah. Jamie hates funerals, and all the thoughts that come along with it. And he hates dressing in uncomfortable suits and shoes.

However, Rebecca's father's funeral is bothering him in ways more than the typical existential and lonely way that he's accustomed to.

This time, he has a third reason to be fucking freaking out. He's sweating under his suit, and he thanks God that the whole getup is black so no one can notice.

Jamie recounts the events of the past few days. It's the only thing he's been able to do, along with wallow in his own pity and insecurity.

After the match against Man City at the Wembley and the events that followed, it took him a bus ride home and cold water falling down his body in the shower and get in bed for him to properly process his day.

He kissed Quinn fucking Zheng.

He doesn't know when his brain made the decision to just go in (he swore to himself he wouldn't do it until the time was right, until he could sort out his shit properly be enough for her; it's killed him), but one minute she was talking about how she actually fucking cared about him, and then he couldn't take it anymore. He thinks she's everything. And for her to actually care about him in the way he described . . . how could he not do something about it?

And, to reiterate, it all came crashing down as he laid in bed that night after his shower. He couldn't do this to her.

But avoidance is a coping mechanism that he happens to execute perfectly. His foot is aching during a match? That's tonight's problem. His dad is texting him for tickets? He'll wait days before even bringing it up to Higgins. His mum keeps pestering him, at age nine, to do the laundry as punishment? He'll be up at the earliest hours of the morning because he put it off. He impulsively kisses Quinn? Well.

In simple words, he's been avoiding Quinn for two days.

Theoretically, the plan seemed easy enough. Their respective jobs at Richmond aren't even meant to overlap too much. Her office is far enough where he can dodge her right after training. He can chalk up the lack of interactions to the fact that he's busy and oh well, it seems like they've just been missing each other. That seems so simple, doesn't it?

Reality isn't as uncomplicated.

Because in reality, not seeing Quinn on a typical day is terribly abnormal. He's mentally slotted and planned every moment of the day where he's even a fraction of free to see her. When he didn't show up at her office, and dodged her eyes two days ago at the beginning of the day . . . something was so clearly off. But what else is he supposed to do?

Here's what Jamie thinks, if he confronts her about the kiss, then it might as well be the end of their friendship. Because even if he likes her, and she likes him, they can't be together. All of Jamie's fucking baggage is holding him back from doing so. How can he be a good person to Quinn with what he goes through? He knows how he used to treat women; how he used to treat anyone. And even though he can admit that there's been a turn around, it's not enough to satisfy him. Not enough to prove to himself that he can be a good boyfriend to someone as good as Quinn.

Jamie thinks that this is what he hates most about himself: he can be all cocky and selfish and prick-y as he wants. Maybe he can even be a prick to his core, on the field at least. But that's not who he actually is. All he feels is emotionally stunted, like he's having all of these revelations now that he should've had a long time ago. He feels growth, but what's the point if he's not at his full potential yet?

Once again, he's reminded of loose ends. He's all loose ends, trying to tie himself back together after spending years of being someone he's not. Quinn is perfectly sewn together; someone who knows who she is despite all she's been through. How can he taint that? How can he hold her back in a relationship because he can't pull himself together?

Fuck this, Jamie thinks as he wanders aimlessly around the Welton estate, successfully dodging any sight of Quinn.

He wants to go home, maybe sit down on his couch and turn on the telly, taking off the uncomfortable shoes he's wearing.

Instead, he spots Keeley among the array of people. She's talking with Rebecca, and one of Rebecca's friends (Sassy?), and he feels like shit all over again.

Another reminder of how terrible he used to be. Their relationship, though cathartic, was an absolute fucking shit show.

He doesn't even think he's ever apologized properly. He thinks back to that one night after Man City had played West Ham, where he went to Keeley's house to thank her, and that resulted in them sleeping together. But all of that felt very fleeting. At the point, he still wasn't quite sure on how to apologize.

He thinks he might be able to do a better job now. It's what Keeley deserves.

He waits until she's alone. Rebecca eventually wandered off into a different room, and Sassy had left. He hopes he doesn't look creepy as he approaches her, but the smile on Keeley's face when she spots him shows that he doesn't need to worry about that.

(There are many other things to worry about, anyway.)

"Hi, Jamie!" she says, demeanor not matching the event at all. "Do you want a drink?"

He thinks if he even has one sip, he might throw up. "I don't really know where to start, to be honest," he says, not acknowledging Keeley's offer. "I'm a bit all over the place."

"Wanna start with a beer?"

"Uh, no, thank you." He clears his throat, heart pounding in his chest. Say what you mean. "Listen, Keeley. I know that you're with Roy and that you're happy, and this isn't me coming onto you at all. But today—and everything that's happened—made me realize that I'd hate myself if I didn't say . . . I didn't just come back to Richmond to get away from me dad. I also came back 'cause of you."

Keeley frowns. "Jamie—"

"No, please let me finish . . . I came back for you and Quinn. But I was mostly thinking of you; I didn't even know she were still here then. I came back because our relationship was so fucked and I needed to prove to you—and myself—that I could be better. For our closure, and so that I can be better for the next person." Quinn, he thinks. All for Quinn. "And I finally think that I'm becoming the best version of myself; the kind of man that you always knew that I could be. And I know that this sounds like a mad shitty thing to do, but . . . I love you, Keeley. I love everything you've done for me and helped me realize."

Keeley's eyes water, looking up at Jamie with a hesitant smile. "Thank you, Jamie. Hearing you say that means a lot to me."

Jamie breathes a sigh of relief. He knows Keeley would forgive him; would hear him out and welcome his thoughts with open arms. But a small part of him was scared that she'd turn him away; that she's not quite ready to gain closure for the ugly parts of their relationship. He should've known better. He should've always known that Keeley forgives, and she loves, and she's everything he strives to be in a person.

"I certainly hope Quinn will be getting a similar speech," she says after a few moments of silence.

His heart both races and deflates at the mention of her name. "Yeah . . . I don't think so."

Keeley's face sours. "Excuse you?"

His eyes flash with worry. "No! I don't mean it rudely. I mean . . . I don't know how to fucking talk to her. I reckon she told you what happened?"

She raises an offensive eyebrow. "She hasn't told me anything."

Jamie's eyes grow confused. "Well thats fucking surprising."

"What happened, then?"

"Well . . ." he hesitates, "We kissed. I kissed her."

Keeley's gasp sends a wave of glances their way. She looks around to make sure none of the eyes belong to their topic of conversation, before leaning in and whispering harshly, "She didn't fucking tell me that! What a fucking bitch, I'm going to kill her. Now what? You two are shagging behind my fucking back? Like traitors?"

"We haven't shagged, Keeley! We haven't even talked, don't you remember?"

She recalls his comment from earlier. "But why?"

"Because if I talk to her, it's fucking over." He'll tell her that they can't be together, and she'll think it'd be too awkward to remain friends. There would be no more Alba runs, or potential Christmases together. He'll forget how her tote bag feels on his shoulders, and he won't be able to come across anything lavender-flavored or scented without wanting to fall straight into hell.

Keeley eyes flash back to fiery anger. "Are you fucking hearing yourself, Jamie?"

He's glad no one of serious importance is around, just a few old people that are, no doubt, here to mourn the loss of a loved one. Instead, they're getting to witness firsthand a quarrel between Richmond's top striker and Keeley Jones.

"I'm hearing myself just fine!" he snaps back. "If I talk to her, nothing will go back to normal."

Keeley frowns, anger dissipating slowly. "And why would you think that?"

"Because I'd have to acknowledge that it was a mistake," he says defeatedly. "That I'm me, and she's her. She's everything, Keeley."

"What happened to you telling me that you're becoming a better man, then?"

"It's not going to be enough, Keeley," he says exasperatedly. "I'm not enough. I'm working hard to be that person, but I still punch my dad. I still feel all this ugly shit at the mention of his fucking existence. I can't be that person around her. I can't. And by the time I might be the version of myself that she deserves, she'll have moved on."

His insides feel icky, revealing all of that—even if it is to Keeley, who would never judge him. But he had to make it known somehow. He doesn't expect Keeley to give him advice, or to comfort him like he's a baby. He just wants someone to know. He wants someone to know he cares so much for Quinn, but sometimes that isn't enough. It isn't enough for him to care; he wants to be someone who she deserves her.

"I think," begins Keeley slowly. "I think that you're a fucking idiot."

Jamie's eyes snap up, going from solemn to confused to mildly pissed. "What?"

"You're a good person, Jamie," she says. "The person you were last year doesn't even come close to the man you are today. And sure, there's always room for improvement and everyone feels like they're not enough. But that doesn't mean you have to punish yourself out of gaining the things you deserve. The fact that you're even questioning whether you're good enough for her is a sign that—fucking hello—you are!"

"Keeley—"

"No shut up from any sort of rebuttals you have. I've witnessed you two for months, and I just assumed you haven't actually gone and asked her out because you were shy. But to think you're doing this because you don't think you're enough? That's bullshit. If I called Quinn over right now, she'd think it's bullshit." Keeley sighs, shaking her head exasperatedly before switching gears. She grabs both of Jamie's hands, bringing him close so that she can lean in.

"Listen," she begins softly, "if this funeral has reminded me of anything, it's that life is so fucking delicate and we don't know what the future has in store for us. We need to make an impact, Jamie. A good one. For every person we come across. You can't take that shit for granted. These feelings you have for Quinn? It's beautiful and blossoming and I know both of your worlds are brighter because of it. Don't skip out on the impact you have on each other's lives because you don't think you're enough. Think of how silly that is in the grand scheme of things: not chasing happiness because you feel a certain way; a way that can easily be rewired?"

Jamie looks down at Keeley, heart pattering in his chest as he takes in her words. He can't deny it, any of it. The impact Quinn's had in his life is too great to ever pass up or ignore, and the clear hole in his heart from avoiding her is just evidence to support the most obvious claim in the universe. Is avoiding her taking her for granted? He can't imagine a tomorrow where he doesn't see Quinn—not because he's avoiding her, but because she's just not there. He thinks that might be hell. He thinks he might be creating that own hell for himself.

Lightyears pass in his mind in a matter of seconds. Keeley is able to notice the planets and stars and galaxies very well. A smile graces her lips.

"She's out back with Beard. I suggest you get on with it, then."

★

"Oh. Ted . . . Hello."

Quinn rolls her eyes at Jane's obvious distaste towards Ted's arrival to the funeral reception. She's been tagging along behind her and Beard all day, despite wanting to take the time away to be with Keeley, Rebecca, or Sassy. She even heard yelling (that was just so obviously Keeley's) in the Church before the actual service, and her stomach bubbles with jealousy at all the festivities that could've been going on that she can't join in.

All because Jamie's avoiding her, and so she has to just avoid Jamie in return. If he wants space, she'll give it to him. And Beard is just clear Jamie repellent.

She doesn't know how to describe the past two days (mostly because she tries not to think about it). If she focuses too hard on Jamie ignoring her, and the kiss (the fucking kiss), she doesn't think she'll be able to function properly. She hasn't even told Rebecca or Keeley of the events that transpired between her and Jamie. How could she? She doesn't want to see the pity that'll cloud over their eyes when she tells them that Jamie has been avoiding her like the plague after they kissed at Wembley.

Maybe she'll tell them tomorrow, or when it hurts a little less. She certainly can't spill the beans now because . . . Well. She can't exactly dish out her problems at a funeral reception, can she? That would be terrible.

"How are you feeling, bug?"

Quinn looks up from the champagne flute in her hand, to meet Ted's eyes. She tries to gauge what he's feeling. He doesn't look like his usual chipper-self, but he certainly isn't carrying the weight that he's appeared to be holding for a while now. There's clarity in his eyes, and she doesn't know where from.

"I'm okay," she replies softly. "How are you?"

"Peachy. I want to pay my respects to the boss, but I just don't know where she's wandered off to."

Quinn's brows furrow. She scans the room they're in for a brief moment to spot Rebecca's mother and a few other guests. She doesn't know where her friend could be at this time.

"I'm not too sure where she is either. I can help you look for her."

Ted shakes his head. "No, no. That's quite alright. Besides, I think you'll be too occupied, anyway."

"Oh, I'm not doing anything," she assures, placing her champagne down.

"But you're going to," says Ted pointedly.

At the sight of her confusion deepening, he motions his head towards the opening of one of the rooms.

She turns around to see Jamie leaning against the opening, looking at her all serious and solemn and fuck, now she feels like she can't breath.

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.' I suggest you go," continues Ted. "I'll find Rebecca on my own just fine."

Quinn is half-listening to Ted's words. Her eyes are too zoned in on Jamie. His eyes are on her too, equally as fiery. He motions his head to the staircase, for her to go and follow him.

She does—follow him. She thinks that she'll follow him anywhere. It doesn't matter that Quinn thinks Jamie might hate her, or the fact that they haven't spoken in two days. One gesture, and she'll do anything.

They find themselves in a guest bedroom. She doesn't give herself enough time to take in the floral wallpaper, or all the pictures that take it up. Her mind is too busy thinking about Jamie. Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.

She wants him to be the first to say something. He's the one that brought them here. He needs to say what he's feeling; what she's hoping.

(Truthfully, she's hoping for anything. It's been too long since they've last spoken. He could tell her that he had dino nuggets for breakfast, and she'll be satisfied.)

"I think now would be a good time for us to talk about what happened at Wembley," he says. "About us."

She nods, ignoring how just earlier she didn't want to get into all of this because they're at a funeral reception. Fuck. How offensive is this? She hopes Rebecca or Keeley are off doing something as scandalous as this: having a serious talk at a time like now.

Jamie doesn't speak for a few moments, clearly trying to find the right words to speak. So, Quinn musters up the courage to address what's been making the air so thick.

"I understand that the kiss was impulsive; that you don't see me in that way . . . but, I'm willing to forget it," she says quickly. "I'd have you as a friend over nothing at all, and I don't want what happened to get in the way of us. I want things to go back to normal."

He frowns. "That's not what I came here to say," he counters. "And I don't understand how you said that I don't see you in that way. Because I do. I want to talk about what happened because I fucking meant it. I meant the kiss. That might've not been the way I wanted it to happen, but it was real."

An alarm can go off, fireworks can explode a foot away from her, but Quinn doesn't think she'd be able to hear any of it. All she can hear is, it was real. It was real. It was real. He meant the kiss. His voice echoes through her mind.

"I'm a fucking asshole for ignoring you, but I just didn't know what to do with all these fucking feelings. But I'm tired of running from them," he says, so sure. "I'm waiting for the right time, but no time will feel right in my fucking mind. So I'm making the right time now." He takes a deep breath. "I like you, Quinn. More than a friend, and I don't want things to go back to normal. Because that'll mean I won't kiss you, or touch you in the way I want. If things go back to normal, I won't be able to tell you every waking second how crazy I am about you."

He goes to continue, but he's cut off.

Rolls reverse this time. She kisses him.

It's less fervent, and more soft. She doesn't want to do it to cut him off; she actually enjoyed his little speech a great amount. But she doesn't want to wait for him to finish, and she doesn't want him to wait for her confirmation: the confirmation that she likes him back. She thinks she might love him. And she doesn't want to do a grand speech, or cry. She just wants to kiss him, and have it say all what's on her mind.

She thinks the message carries across very well. His hands settle at her hips, clutching softly and bringing her closer. She doesn't think she's felt lips any softer. She never thought knowing Jamie's scent would turn into knowing his taste, but she begins to memorize it as well.

His lips chase hers similarly to the last time, and this time she lets him have another taste. And another. And another. And she's sure she can spend the rest of her life locked in this moment. She'll never grow tired and she'll always be grateful.

"That," whispers Jamie, lips going in for one last peck before he lets himself catch his breath, "was even better than last time."

"It might be because you're less sad," she points out.

"Oh, I'm fucking sad. I hate funerals. But I like this more. Much more. It trumps everything else. I can go downstairs and start dancing."

"Christ, please don't do that."

"Give me another one, then."

She rolls her eyes playfully, but wastes no time to lean in again. Her lipstick is messed up, she's sure. Traces of it spill on the edges of Jamie's lips. She'll have to wipe it away before they head back downstairs.

"Holy fuck."

Sometimes, Quinn can feel like she has a few loose ends. She knows who she is, but there are still gaps and moments where she loses that sight. She wishes she was more sure of herself.

With Jamie, though, she feels very sure. She feels sure that she loves him and his presence. She feels sure that life feels brighter and the loose ends don't carry the weight it usually does. She feels parts of herself getting sewn back together.

"What are you thinking right now?" she asks, knowing exactly what he's thinking about.

(Her. He's thinking about her. Just like how she's thinking about him.)

"I'm thinking," he begins slowly. His finger comes up to trace her cheek, before kissing the spot softly. "I'm thinking about how we're going to have to tell everyone that we got together at a funeral."

★

A/N: yup all i have to say is FINALLY!!!!!! bc this is what i've been planning for awhile and its finally out there and i'm so so happy and relieved!!

i know this has been a long time coming, so thank u to everyone who has stuck around and read this far <33 the wait has me feeling sentimental lol. the views keep going up gradually that i don't even notice how many there r until i rlly look and think "woah i never imagined it'd be this high."

i can't wait to write their dynamic as a couple, and what they go thru together!!!!! i'm particularly excited to explore how jamie is a bf because even though he had serious bf energy as a friend, there will def be new elements now that it's official. i'm also excited to write how ppl perceive them as a couple??? if that makes any sense. so yeah! i'm super super excited