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

this path is reckless

There is a rosy filter fixed over the weeks that follow that night.

The sun shines brighter than it did before. Its warmth reachiong her even in the darkness of her room. When she goes outside, the grass seems three shades more vividly green. But, most importantly, the overwhelming presence of the rest of the world seems a whole lot less abrasive.

It's not an instant fix.

Thea still gets tired, her body folding under the weight of her daily life, but she takes less time to bounce back. And, when she does, she has a dozen texts asking after her. How is she? Has she eaten? Does she want a hot chocolate *and* and doughnut or just a hot chocolate? (No matter what she answers, she always ends up with both.) It's not just texts either. It's photos. Random snapshots of his day. Videos of every animal he meets, big and small.

The sort of stuff a good friend would do.

Maybe a little more.

"You look well," Casey says about a fortnight after that night. She's lying on their sofa with her head hanging off the edge. Hair falls around her face like a thick blonde waterfall, completely hiding the smudged make-up she still hadn't managed to wipe off.

"And you look like a vampire," Thea says, pouring the contents of her thermos into a mug for Casey. The morning was going to suck without coffee, but her roommate needed it more. "Are you sure you don't want me to do anything?"

"Other than go back in time and remind me why I stopped going to festivals in the first place?" Casey groans. "Just don't let me do it again."

She hasn't moved from the sofa since she got back the previous afternoon. Her suitcase is still by the front door with her muddy boots and stupidly expensive raincoat. It's a good thing though. Being so hungover means that she hasn't noticed the jacket that Jamie forgot the morning before she got back or the rings on the coffee table from the drinks they'd shared over the weekend. Thea puts this new cup of coffee on top of one of them and bites down the guilt.

It's not that she doesn't want to tell Casey.

It's more that she can't tell Casey.

Because she'd made such a big deal about not being friends with Jamie in the first place. It was never supposed to happen. Not before they'd broken up and definitely not afterwards. She'd made such a big deal about cutting him off that it could only come off as suspicious now. It wouldn't have been as bad if Thea had just told her the day after Aria's gig. But she didn't. Every day, she left the house to go and see Jamie and, every day, she lied about it.

And it's not like she can tell her now. The hole is six feet tall on all sides and there's no way she's ever going to be able to drag herself out of it. Not now that she's kissed Jamie. Even if they're only friends. There's no way to tell Casey that she's recovering from her hangover in the exact same spot where Jamie had spent the weekend sleeping without it sounding like Thea is a girl-code-breaking monster.

"I promise," Thea says.

On the counter, her phone buzzes.

It's a text from Jamie letting her know that he's almost there.

Usually, they don't meet up on Wednesdays, but the whole team are in the thick of planning Dani's birthday and someone volunteers himself to drive an hour out of his way to pick up the 'perfect' disco ball. She isn't too upset by it. It's not like she couldn't have said no. Disco ball shopping is entirely achievable alone. But she'd heard so much about this party that she felt personally invested.

"Anyone interesting?" Casey asks.

Thea shakes her head, "Just work."

"Gross," Casey says. "I'm guessing that means that there's no chance of you staying home today and keeping me company? I'll make it worth your while."