i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you (Ted Lasso)

sacred new beginnings

Warnings for this chapter:

- Vague mentions of past trauma- References to mental illness- Adult language

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It's the TV that wakes her up.

Or, at least, that's what Thea will say if she ever retells this story.

In reality, she hasn't slept for nearly two days and the patch of the ceiling she has been staring at for the last millennia has started moving in ways she's not entirely comfortable with. Which sounds a lot more concerning than it actually is. But Thea has just enough self-awareness to know not to mention it around company.

It is the TV that distracts her though.

Not because it's loud or even because of the time.

No, the reason is a lot more boring than that.

As it turns out, Thea Wallis has inherited her northern mother's sense of urgency when it comes to conserving electricity. A trait that only gets worse the older she gets. She's one bad day away from referring to more than one light as the 'Blackpool bloody illuminations.'

So, when she sees the dim light of the TV bouncing off the walls, she can't stop herself from sticking her nose in.

But the living room isn't empty. There is a whole human-shaped being in the darkness. A being that winces in her general direction when she switches on the light. It's a small comfort. Something monstrous probably wouldn't wince at the light.

"If you're a ghost, can we maybe wait till tomorrow to do this?"

The light reveals nothing more than a frazzled young man.

"What?"

"When I moved into this place, the previous tenants left a note saying it was haunted," Thea says. "And I really wanted it to be true but I'm guessing that you're not some sort of specter?"

"No."

"Disappointing but fair."

Thea turns the light off and carries on to the small kitchenette that takes up most of the left wall. It's probably a good job that her flat isn't haunted. They barely have room for two people, let alone ghosts. She flicks on the under cabinet light and waits for it to spark into life. Its warm glow is a lot less offensive than the stark white of the big light.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "Coffee?"

"It's two in the morning."

"Yeah, but only because we subscribe to the concept of time." Thea puts an extra spoon of sugar into her mug. "But, I'll take that as a no."

It strikes Thea that she is reacting particularly well. It's not every day that a late-night coffee run turns it an impromptu conversation with a stranger. Especially not a strange wearing her flatmate's fluffy, pink dressing gown. It also strikes her that she is the one doing most of the talking. Yet again her need to fill silence has decided to contradict her utter dislike of social interaction.

As she mixes her coffee, Thea realises that this must be Casey's newest entanglement. The famous one. Properly famous. A distinction that Thea has never once asked for but gets every time.

Casey has never made a point of introducing Thea to the lads she brings home. It's a system that has always worked for them. If they last more than a week, Thea will inevitably meet them. But it is hard to feign interest in someone who is going to vanish after a fortnight.