Years before he got his job at the Independent, back when he was a newly-graduated journalist looking for any sort of position that paid, Trent worked briefly for a tabloid. He hated every moment of it. He knew that uncovering secrets was a part of journalism, but he didn't want to do it like that; didn't want to break apart innocent people's lives just for a good headline. He left as soon as he could.
He learned, as he grew older, that tabloids weren't the only publications that did things like that. Journalists were well-known for being nosy, for looking for dirt, and sometimes, Trent hated it. Good old investigative journalism was one thing, trying to uncover wrongs and make them right, but digging up harmless information just to make a sensationalized headline? It never felt right to him. He never enjoyed it.
He told himself he'd stick to his morals, that he wouldn't write anything that truly felt wrong. He made a list of things he would never do. Over the years, he gave many of them up. He refused to let himself look too closely at those moments, up until the moment when he blew up his career altogether.
Exposing a person's panic attacks hadn't been on his list of things he'd never do, but it should have been. He realized it too late.
There was one thing on the list, though, that he'd always sworn that he would stick to, no matter what. He would not out anyone, not in anything he wrote. It was the first thing he'd ever put back on the list, back when he was in school, and when he told himself he wouldn't break that vow, he believed it. It was the one thing that he thought he could point at and say with certainty, "This is a line I will not cross."
It was a line he never came close to in his career, so he'd never had to put it to the test.
When he walked past a shadowed alley on his way home from Sam's restaurant and saw Colin Hughes kissing a man, he was horribly, pathetically grateful that he hadn't seen it a few months before, so writing an article about it wouldn't even be an option.
He wouldn't have written it. He told himself he wouldn't have written it. He would have kept it to himself, and he would have kept away from Colin, and he would have scoured his fellow journalists' articles a bit more closely for mentions of him. And if someone else wrote it… Well, he would have been kind, wouldn't he? He probably would have written something, but it wouldn't have been outing at that point, not if someone else had already outed him. He would have done his best to be kind, and that would have been about all he could do.
But now…
Now, he couldn't write anything about Colin, unless he wanted to out him in his book, but he also couldn't avoid him. They both worked in the same place, Trent's whole job was to learn everything he could about the club and the players, and Colin would be there through all of it. Trent would have to be very careful to keep what he knew to himself.
There was something off about the whole situation, though, something that bothered Trent all the way home. Kissing a man not two minutes from the restaurant - kissing the same man Colin had brought along as a friend, if Trent's eyes didn't deceive him - was reckless behavior, and Colin Hughes was not reckless.
Trent didn't know him well, but he knew that. Colin was a queer man who was part of a Premier League football team, and there had never been even a whisper of it. Colin had been in the public eye for years, and he'd kept such a low profile that most people probably wouldn't be able to name him at all. He was cautious. Trent knew he had to be. But this? This wasn't cautious at all. This was the behavior of someone who wanted someone to know.
Trent didn't think Colin wanted to come out. He didn't blame him for that in the least. English football was rife with homophobia, and Trent couldn't imagine that Colin wanted to deal with that, especially when he'd recently been benched from a team that just barely got promoted the season before. But that was half of the problem: Colin had been benched, and Trent knew what that could do to a player. If he was spiraling, he would take risks. If he took risks, he could be seen, and if he was feeling ignored…
Trent knew well that there was only so long you could shove part of yourself down and deny it to everyone who asked before you exploded. Colin hadn't exploded yet, but this? This was him, on the way there.
This was the behavior of someone who wanted someone to know the truth about him, but that someone had to be the right person. It had to be a safe person. Trent thought over the people at AFC Richmond and wondered who could be the right one, and then, he realized someone already knew. Him.
He couldn't go to Colin directly. Colin would panic. The team thought of him either as, generously, a journo or, less generously, the journo who had told the world about their beloved coach's panic attacks. It was true, Trent couldn't deny it, but it meant that the team had no reason to think he'd keep their secrets. Even after Roy lifted his ban on speaking around Trent, Trent knew there were conversations that were saved for times he was out of the room. If he told Colin he knew… Well, Colin would just wonder which newspaper it would end up in. No, before Trent talked to him, he needed to win Colin's trust. He needed to show Colin he was safe.
He needed, he realized, to show Colin that he was like him.
Trent wasn't exactly closeted, but he wasn't exactly out either. He'd been married to a woman until a few years before, which had fairly effectively hidden his sexuality, but after he came out to his wife and got a divorce, he'd gone out on dates with men, and he hadn't tried to hide himself as he did it. Hell, he'd taken a man to the Crown & Anchor, and he'd refused to let himself feel shame for doing so.
Where he wasn't out, however, was work.
At the Independent, he hadn't been friends with his colleagues, so he hadn't shared anything about his personal life. He didn't know about their lives, and they didn't need to know about his. And then, otherwise… Well, as a sports journalist who focused on football, he knew all too well how many players, coaches, and fans were homophobic, sometimes violently so. He knew his life was immersed in theirs, and he didn't want to make things any more difficult than he had to. If that meant keeping his sexuality quiet at work, then he told himself he didn't mind.
But if he tried signaling to Colin, there was every chance that someone else would notice too. Someone else at the football club where he worked now, where he would be surrounded by footballers, where he had few allies and fewer friends, if he could even count Ted as a friend after all he'd done to him.
But Colin needed someone, and if this gave Trent an opportunity to feel things out as well, to see if Colin was truly safe at AFC Richmond… Well, Trent could leave if it became necessary, and he could distance himself from football if he had to. Colin didn't have that luxury, at least not anywhere near as easily. Trent would check first, and he would let Colin know he was a safe person, and then…
Well, they'd see what came next, but Trent wouldn't let Colin go through it alone, whatever it was.
He'd gone through too much of this alone to watch someone else do the same.
Trent started out small, with a rainbow bracelet his daughter had made for him. It got no reaction, nor did the other bracelets he added, so he gritted his teeth and brought his second favorite rainbow mug into work.
Spending too much time around Colin specifically could prompt suspicion from the others or panic from Colin himself, so Trent did his best to spend more time with the entire team, bringing his mug of tea into the locker room while he asked questions. No one seemed to think much of it, including Colin. Trent figured he'd have to step it up.
And then, when he went back into the little office he shared with Roy Kent, he noticed Roy giving his mug a look. It was a look Trent knew, one he recognized, and his chest seized as Roy looked from the mug to Trent himself.
Roy Kent was well known for being aggressive. In his experience, Trent had found Roy to be more bark than bite, at least so far, but Roy also hated him. Things had gotten better since the encounter in the showers - and oh, Trent had hardly breathed the whole time, first from pure fear and then from mingled fear and guilt - but Trent still wouldn't call Roy a friend. Perhaps Roy didn't hate him as much anymore, but he certainly didn't like him.
And Trent knew that look, the one that said, "I know what you are." He knew it, and he knew what often came next.
He didn't think anything violent would happen at the club. He didn't think Ted would stand for it. (Although, a little voice in his head whispered, he is from the American Midwest, and you know what that can be like-) But once work as out, once Ted was gone…
Well. Trent would just need to move quickly.
He avoided Roy as much as he could for the rest of the day, and whenever he had to spend time around him, he tried to stick as close to Ted as possible. He hoped that wouldn't prove to be a mistake. He hoped that what he'd done wouldn't prove to be a massive mistake. He hadn't even succeeded in his goal yet. Colin didn't seem to have noticed at all. Then again, perhaps it was better that way; if he had to stop coming into the club, perhaps it was better if Colin didn't know it was because of the trait that the two of them shared.
He hoped he wouldn't have to stop coming into the club.
He managed to wait until it was his normal time to leave that evening, although every moment spent in the same office as Roy felt like a moment he was tempting fate in the worst way. When it finally looked to be a decent time to leave, Trent gathered his things, wished Ted and Beard a good night, and fled.
He made it all the way to the parking lot. He made it almost all the way to his car.
"Oi, Crimm!"
Trent almost dropped his keys, but he knew he couldn't risk that; if he had any hope of getting into his car quickly, he would have to hold onto his keys. He wondered for a moment if he could get away with just ignoring the call, but he could hear footsteps behind him, so he took a deep breath and turned around.
"Coach Kent."
Roy paused, looking baffled. "Since when do you call me Coach Kent?"
"You are a coach, aren't you?" Trent countered, then immediately regretted that biting sarcasm was still his first line of defense. In some situations, it could work. When someone who already didn't like him was in a potentially violent mood, it was stupid.
"Yeah, but you don't call me that." Roy shook himself. "Whatever. Doesn't fucking matter. I need to talk to you for a minute."
Trent's heart pounded in his ears. "Is it important? I need to get to the shops before they close-"
"Won't take long," Roy dismissed. "Look. I saw your mug."
"I noticed."
"And I just wanted to say," Roy continued, "that if anyone gives you any shit, you come to me and I'll deal with it."
"You- Pardon?"
Roy sighed and took a step forward. Trent automatically took a step back, almost stumbling over his own feet, and Roy froze.
"You're scared."
Trent clutched his bag tightly. "Do I have reason to be?"
"I'm not that sort of asshole." Roy took a step back and held up his hands, looking intensely awkward as he did so. "I know the sort of shit they say about footballers, and I know it's true for a lot of us, but it's not true for me. I'm not going to do anything." When Trent still hardly dared to breathe, Roy huffed and dropped his hands. "I don't give a fuck if you're gay, Crimm."
The parking lot was empty but for the two of them, but hearing the words out loud still made Trent's heart skip a beat. It was stupid, especially given that he was in the process of slowly outing himself anyway, but he couldn't help that flash of fear.
"This is scaring the shit out of you," Roy said slowly. "Why the hell are you doing it in the first place?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Trent said in his primmest voice. It only shook the tiniest bit.
"Don't fucking play dumb with me," Roy scoffed. "You've never gone around with rainbow bracelets and mugs before, and I'm guessing I know why. So why are you doing it now, when you're fucking terrified for anyone to find out?"
Of all the people to confront Trent on his actions, he had never expected it to be Roy Kent. Slowly, he said, "Statistically, it is very unlikely that I am the only person in this club who is not… heterosexual."
Roy was quiet for longer than Trent expected. "I'm not going to ask which one of the boys it is, or how you know," he finally said. "But if there's a fucking whisper of it in your book or in the fucking news-"
"I won't," Trent cut in immediately. "I would never."
Roy had no reason to believe him. After what Trent had written about Ted - after what Trent had written about Roy himself - Roy had no reason to think that Trent wouldn't take this piece of news right to the nearest paper. It would make one hell of a headline, after all.
But Roy did believe him; Trent could tell by the way he relaxed. "Good," he huffed. "And like I said. Anyone gives you shit, tell me and I'll deal with it."
"May I ask why you care?" Trent asked, trying to keep his voice mild and unbothered and not like he was halfway to losing his mind over the sheer absurdity of the whole conversation.
Roy scowled. "Because footballers can be fucking pricks. I may not like you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let that shit slide." He hesitated, scowl deepening, and added, "Especially if you're right about one of the team. Need to make sure they know they're safe and shit."
Roy Kent having a protective streak was a bit of a surprise, but perhaps it shouldn't have been. Roy Kent extending that protective streak to Trent, even if only a little and only under specific circumstances, was astonishing.
"I… appreciate it."
Roy nodded, looking awkward. Trent felt much the same.
"Right," Roy said after a moment. "Does the person know you know?"
Trent considered denying that there was anyone specific, but Roy seemed thoroughly convinced, and since he was apparently a staunch ally, Trent thought he could admit this much. "No, I don't believe he does."
Roy nodded. "You gonna tell him?"
"I was hoping that, if I made it clear that I was a… safe person, he would come to me. I don't want to scare him."
Roy nodded again. "Ted would probably say something fucking stupid about all coming together as a team, but…"
It was Trent's turn to nod. He knew exactly what Roy was alluding to. There were no openly queer players on any of the Premier League teams for a reason. As much as Trent would love to think that everyone would wholeheartedly support Colin and he would be happy and safe, Trent had seen too many stories go the other way to risk it.
"Ted has made the club a much safer place," Trent offered, if a bit halfheartedly. "I don't think I'd risk this with any other team."
Roy huffed. "Yeah, his stupid kindness shit works. It's fucking ridiculous."
"Indeed," Trent agreed. "Do you think he even realizes how out of place it is?"
"I dunno. He seems like a fucking idiot most of the time, but sometimes he does shit that makes me think he's actually smarter than all of us."
Trent had been subject to those sorts of strange Ted Lasso twists as well. He would think he had complete control of a conversation, and then Ted would say something that would switch control to him and make Trent wonder if he'd only had the illusion of it in the first place.
"It's infuriating," he mused.
Roy made a half-choked sound that was almost a laugh. "Too right, it fucking is."
They stood in silence for a few moments. "You gonna tell him what you're doing?" Roy finally asked. "He'd probably come up with some fucking stupid way to end homophobia that would somehow work because he lives in a world where that sort of shit is possible, and somehow he's dragged all of us into it too."
The prospect did sound very much like Ted. Trent still shook his head. "I won't out anyone."
"Not asking you to fucking out anyone," Roy scoffed. "You'd better fucking not. But you could talk to Ted so he knows what you're doing, and he knows not to let any of the boys say any shit."
"Ted is…" Trent hesitated, wondering how to say it delicately. "While Ted has never done anything that makes me think he would be unkind, the area of the United States that he's from is historically… not particularly friendly to people like me."
Roy frowned. "You don't think that Ted would be a shit about it, do you?"
"I'm mostly certain he wouldn't be," Trent replied. He was sure that Roy could hear the clear thread of doubt.
"Fine, don't tell him, then," Roy huffed, although he clearly thought Trent was being an idiot. "Fuck. If you're not telling him, then can I do anything to help?"
"Help?"
"Make things safer, or shit," Roy said. "I'm not doing some sort of fucking story like Ted does, but I can tell them to knock it off when they make stupid jokes in the locker room."
"That would probably be a good thing," Trent agreed. "But don't be too obvious about it. I don't want to scare anyone."
"Right. I'll yell at them for other stupid jokes too. Wouldn't be a bad thing to have them stop being sexist." Roy shuddered slightly. "Fuck, Ted's going to act all proud of me."
If they were talking about anyone else, Trent wouldn't understand why Roy framed that as a negative, but he'd also faced the experience of a proud Ted Lasso, and he could completely understand why Roy would find it overwhelming. "If you'd rather not-"
"No, fuck you, I'm doing it," Roy interrupted immediately. "I'll start tomorrow." He hesitated a moment, then added, "And if whoever it is does come to you, tell him the same thing I told you. Anyone says any shit, he can come to me, and I'll, fuck, I'll figure out some way to fix it."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate it as much as I do," Trent said, which was probably the closest he could get to thanking Roy without Roy putting his hackles up.
"Right," Roy agreed. "Glad we've got that sorted, then. Night, Crimm."
It felt like a bit of an unexpected end to the conversation, but considering it was Roy, Trent thought the unexpected thing should actually be that the conversation had lasted so long. "Goodnight, Roy," Trent called as Roy got into his car, and he watched as Roy drove away. Then, he walked over to his own car, opened the door, and promptly had a minor existential crisis as he wondered if he had really just spoken to the Roy Kent about how best to support queer people at AFC Richmond, including Trent himself.
He began to laugh, unable to help it, and found himself doubled over behind the wheel, laughing so hard and so hysterically that he could feel tears coming to his eyes. No part of him had expected this outcome to that moment with his mug, and most of him had actually expected a much worse, much more violent outcome, and all that adrenaline and panic had to come out somehow.
God. Trent was a mess.
When he finally thought he could drive without being a danger to himself and everyone else on the road, he started his car and started home. He hadn't been lying to Roy when he said he had to do some shopping, but he also knew he was in no state to do so. He'd go the next day, and for today, he'd sit at home and wonder how the fuck his life had come to this.
And perhaps, if he had a glass of wine and found himself a little maudlin, he'd take a moment to be incredibly thankful that it had.