first greets and last meets

by lovelavanya (can_i_disappear_please)

Summary:

Shubman had two candies, his cricket kit, and an extra towel in his possession when he first met Ishan.

Scratch that-- one candy.

Or: Shubman and Ishan meet for the first time in 2018, get separated, meet again, get separated again, and the cycle continues till 2021.

Chapter 1: introduction and inspiration

introduction-

the lives we owe: I 

Shubman had two candies, his cricket kit, and an extra towel in his possession when he first met Ishan.

Scratch that-- one candy.

Or: Shubman and Ishan meet for the first time in 2018, get separated, meet again, get separated again, and the cycle continues till 2021.

inspiration-

'the lives we owe' is an ishman series I wanted to write after Shubman's departure news came forward from New York and we won the T20I World Cup.

I haven't really known this pair for long because I'm not a cricket fanatic. But I've watched cricket my entire life, so I know almost everything about it. Including their bromance. 

This is a work of fiction. Yes, this ff is canon compliant (meaning it follows the real events of their lives) but nothing written or mentioned here is claimed to be true.

'first greets and last meets (the lives we owe: I)' focuses mainly on the beginning and growth of ishman's friendship and bond from back when none of them had started playing for team India. This part is loosely based on a statement Ishan gave on KBC about how they got to know each other. 

This fic is only available on ao3 and Wattpad. No translations or copying is allowed. 

While this fic is canon compliant, I have taken the liberty to change some of the details of their lives as I saw fit with the plot, so we're gonna forget the fact that they played against each other for two years before the start of this fic, because Ishan mentioned clearly in the interview that they got to know each other for the first time after they played together in the same team. The roommates arc was added for the plot and because Ishan's statement gave me some room to play with that. 

If any technicality relating to cricket is found to be doubtful, I urge all the readers to take it as good fun and move on because as I've mentioned earlier, I'm not a cricket fanatic. And this is not a cricket novel. That all being said, it is my first time writing ishman so please be respectful.

Kudos, comments and shares are highly appreciated. Now I'll leave you guys to read the first chapter. Hope you like it. 

love, lavanya <3

 

Chapter 2: day 1 (part I)

Summary:

Shubman is excited for playing the Deodhar Trophy the first time. He just isn't ready for the things (and people) awaiting him there.

October 2018

Shubman had two candies, his cricket kit and an extra towel in his possession when he first met Ishan.

Scratch that-- one candy.

He gazed at the male in front of him fugitively, not really understanding what his business was except that if he didn't make a move to leave in the next 2 minutes, Shubman will definitely be late for the quick morning workout he had planned before breakfast and the meet-and-greet his coach had scheduled for the new team this morning.

So, understandably, he was annoyed.

Figuratively, the guy was...short. He barely reached Shubman's shoulders at that. He wasn't being mean; he had always been modest about his 6 feet, thank you very much. It had just been a while since he had seen a shorter person given how he'd spent the last summer practicing and enjoying his short stay back home, gearing up for the Deodhar Trophy. His entire family was filled with giants, his coach and colleagues back home had some decent height to them too, so he wasn't completely used to looking down on people, literally, just yet.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the guy had to be a player in his team, given the fact that only the team India C members were allowed to stay on the 4th floor and the obvious luggage hidden behind the short build. Hell, Shubman was pretty sure he had played against this guy somewhere in the last year, during the various tournaments he had to play through to get here.

But Shubman had also been bad with faces and names his entire life, and it was showing.

The shorter male just grinned, his slightly crooked smile scratching a weird itch inside of Shubman's brain (it just fit the entire image the guy had going) and held out a polite hand.

"I'm Ishan. Ishan Kishan, WK-batsman for the India C team. And you must be Shubman Gill, aka my rival prodigy." The fact that he said rival but was still smiling, sent Shubman off for a bit, before he could bring himself to shake the outstretched hand (the hand, smaller than his and slightly rough around the edges but still on the softer side, fit the image too, dammit).

"I was told to beware of you when I was preparing to come here, something about how you have the ability to snatch my spot in the Indian cricket team, but they ended up pairing us up as roommates! Isn't that cool?" The guy laughed, eyes expecting a good reaction from Shubman.

His coach back home hadn't warned him about anyone, and he had also forgotten to check the roommate allotment last night because his bus had been late, arriving at 2:00am instead of the promised 10:00pm, so all he was capable of doing after the check-in was just sleep and pray that he wouldn't be late for breakfast, a feat he is falling behind from because of this, um, 'rival prodigy' of his.

"Yeah, it's cool." He just shrugged, shuffling around a bit to let the newcomer come in, glanced at his watch once more to confirm that he still had a minute before his scheduled workout and started heading out with a quick wave as soon as his roommate was kind of settled. He had been in the hall, waiting for the elevator to come up when a voice called out from the direction of his room.

"Hey!" Ishan said, hindering Shubman's swift and fast exit. He turned around slightly, lifting his eyebrows in a what? expression. Ishan, now with a towel around his neck, laughed again. "Just wanted to say, I'm going to shower now. It was nice meeting you and I hope we can get along for this tournament." He winked, turned back and shut the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the empty hallway.

A brief silence followed, spent with Shubman trying his hardest to not think about the fact that he was definitely being rude to his roommate for no apparent reason. It wasn't like him. A quick glance at the elevator showed it would still take a good 5 minutes or so for it to come up, so Shubman opted for a quick cardio through the stairs adjacent to his room.

On his way though, the candy wrapper crinkled invitingly in his track pants pocket and Shubman contemplated his next move for a second before saying fuck it to his rational and opened the door of his room anyway.

"Shubman?" A voice called out from the bathroom as he shuffled around the room, searching for a notepad and pen. He was sure he saw both in the amenities the hotel had provided them with somewhere. "That you?"

"Yeah, I just...." He glanced at his main towel, hanging on the railing of their joint balcony, "....forgot my towel."

"But you had one on you earlier?" God, where had he kept the notepad?

"Yeah, that was an extra. I forgot the main one and-- Found it!" He exclaimed as he spotted the hotel notepad on the common nightstand between their twin beds. He quickly scribbled out a hasty note and put the candy on it as neatly as he could before turning back toward the direction of the door.

"You sure? I could lend you mine if you want--!"

"NO, it's all good. I'm leaving. Bye."

"Oh okay, bye!"

If he reached the gym later than his estimation, he would just blame his speed for being slow due to lack of sleep, and NOT the welcome gift he'd left for his new roommate on his way.

It's my last one from the summer.
Hope we get along well. Best of luck.
-S

---

The breakfast hall had been almost empty when Shubman had arrived, freeing himself from the workout with just enough time to take a quick shower before coming down. Only the coaches and a few other players were there. A friend of his from the Punjab team had been there too and together, the two of them sat near the window side of the hall.

"How's it going, prodigy? Playing for the C team the first time, huh?" His friend, Anmolpreet, was in the India A team, but it was also his second time playing, so Shubman wasn't really concerned about their performance standings except-- "Not sure that it'd be as good as the B one I played with last year, but you know what they say, to each their own." –-for this fact obviously.

Anmolpreet chuckled, prompting Shubman to force a smile of his own.

It wasn't a hidden fact that Shubman wasn't really a C team material. Had he been a year or so older, he was sure to be put in the B team at the very least, or A, if we were being really frank. It had taken Shubman all of summer and the time between to really accept that fact he was not a direct A team draft his first Deodhar Trophy. He also knew that all kinds of sports were mind games and this knowledge of him being selected for a team lesser than his potential would be used against him, all the time here.

He'd just wished that his friends-- or as he liked to think of them -- wouldn't be the ones to start it. Clearly, that had been too much positive thinking on his side.

"I just want to have a good experience my first time here. If the team does good, that's a plus too but really, my age will give me enough time to both explore and build a good foundation as I see fit." He repeated the rehearsed answer his coach back home had made him learn and changed the direction of the conversation, talking about anything but his drafting.

A while later, after some of their other mutual friends had joined them too, he had been so lost in the conversation that he didn't notice someone sliding next to him until Ishan's chair scratched against the floor a bit too loudly. Shubman winced.

A swift "Hey, roommate!" and the crooked smile were the greetings he got. "Thanks for the candy. It's my favorite, did you know that?"

Shubman didn't but Ishan didn't seem too keen for a reply anyway, already busy digging in the omelet he had conveniently place above the bread in his plate. Shubman marveled the energy the shorter guy had, given he had arrived only about an hour or so before the gathering, but his face didn't show any signs of fatigue, whatsoever. It was like he was mocking Shubman's lack of finesse this early in the morning despite getting a decent four-hour sleep after check-in. Shubman didn't appreciate the reminder at all.

"Hey, I'm Anmolpreet, batsman, India A. You must be...?"

"Ishan. Ishan Kishan, WK-batsman, India C." They did a weird handshake, smooth only till the extent the giant male between them would allow. Ishan huffed, "And this prodigy's roommate for the tournament." He nudged Shubman a bit, before resuming his breakfast, seemingly unaffected by the glare the latter sent his way. A moment later, Anmolpreet stood up with the excuse of having finished his breakfast and made his way to where the India A team was seated, Shubman assumed.

Attention now diverted, he glanced around the hall to see it bustling with the new and fresh energy of all the players from across the nation, acquainting and reacquainting themselves with colleagues and friends, and coaches all alike. Shubman felt a smile form on his face as he realized, he was here. Playing for the fourth best team in the entire nation, sure but selected after the vigorous tournaments and innings he had put himself through for this. It was worth it, after all.

"Quick question." Ishan said. "How old are you exactly?"

"Nineteen. September 1999." He paused. "You said you were a prodigy too, right?"

"Hm, July 1998. I'm almost a year older than you." Ishan grinned, leaning forward to ruffle his hair.

Shubman scooted backwards subtly, forcing himself to not overreact. It was just a form of teasing anyway. This skin ship he could handle. But Ishan seemed to read his body language and withdrew his hand before it could touch his hair. Shubman let out a silent sigh of relief. It wasn't often you see people, especially players, respecting each other's physical boundaries.

"What's your number?"

"I'm sorry?"

Ishan laughed again, "Jersey number, you idiot."

"...77."

"It's final?"

"You know it's not final yet. Not until we play for the Indian squad, anyway."

Ishan shrugged again, "Yeah, but we usually tell the numbers we want on our Indian jerseys. Mine's 32."

Shubman just nodded. They were quiet for a while, and then, "Why 77, though?"

He sighed, "Why are you so nosy?"

"Why can't you answer the question?"

"Why do I have to answer? I don't even know you."

"You can know me if you want."

"I didn't even know you existed like an hour ago."

"Yeah so, I'm telling you, you can know me. Come on, ask me whatever you want."

Shubman groaned and shook his head. It was becoming very clear to him that talking to this guy was like arguing with a brick wall. He almost felt sad for himself as he remembered that he was supposed to share a room with the brick wall for the next three days. He quickly finished his breakfast and glanced back at Ishan to see him-- wait what?!

"Who eats an omelet dipped in tea, Kishan?"

"Oh, come on," Ishan cackled, "It's not like any of these things will lose their taste because of this."

Shubman was disgusted, to say the least. "It's like dipping chips in coke, for fuck's sake."

"Ooh, you're a bad boy for swearing in front of elders, Gill."

"Elder who?"

"Elder me!"

"You're.... weird, has anyone told you that?" Ishan just laughed, focusing on his breakfast again when suddenly Shubman heard his name being called out.

"Shubman!" The team India C coach exclaimed. Shubman barely had time to get up before the coach came forward to hug him with all his might. "My boy, I've been searching for my prodigy all along." He chuckled, bringing a smile to Shubman's face too.

"And I see, my other prodigy has met you too. How's it going, Ishan?" The said prodigy received the same treatment and they began their own conversation as Shubman focused on the fairly tall, lanky guy that stood next to the coach, dark circles deep enough to almost seem like a part of the face he had. A quick run-through in his mind told him that he was the captain of the India C team, and Shubman put on his good-boy charm.

"Hey, man." He held out a hand. "Shubman Gill, batsman. You must me Ajinkya Rahane."

The grip on his hand was good, promising in terms of a captain's and Shubman felt more at peace as the sullen face smiled appreciatively. "Yes, indeed. Ajinkya Rahane, captain, India C. Let's play a good tournament together, yes?" He grinned, and Shubman nodded eagerly.

He suddenly had a good feeling about this.

---

Notes:

fun fact: this is the shortest chapter written till now. and I've seen people both, dip their omelet in tea and chips in their coke.

please leave kudos if you liked the chapter. feel free to comment and share as much as you can!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 3: day 1 (part II)

"You seem more...."

Ajinkya had trailed off, searching for a better word as Shubman scolded himself for hanging on to every word of the former. Don't get attached.

They were now in the practice ground, their little group consisting of him, a few reserve players and the captain. The meet-and-greet had lasted for a little over two hours, giving all the players the entire day to practice and get used to their teammates. Shubman was feeling confident today, firing off shots during his turn in the net, thanks to the warm-up workout he'd managed to squeeze in the morning. It was a five-minute turned gossip-session-between-the-team break now, the coach's absence letting everyone relax a bit.

"...reserved, than I'd thought honestly."

Shubman tilted his head, confused. "I don't get it?"

"I just mean, you were supposed to be this hotshot prodigy that everyone was raving about. You've won in international U19 cricket, for heaven' sake. But then the drafting in India C had made you seem..." He waved his hand in the air a couple of times and Shubman realized it was supposed to mean something. He, too, waved his hand in the air, trying to grasp what the fuss was about when he heard the captain sigh a laugh.

"The media made you seem redemptive, in that sense."

"So, you're saying I'm not as passionate as you were expecting?"

"NO, not passionate. Just not as...." He did the hand wave thing again.

"I think he means he expected you to be more arrogant, prodigy." Navdeep, an extra in their team, laughed, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Shubman shrugged it off; he wasn't a big fan of skin ship. Physical contact was common in such games he knew, so he wasn't overly sensitive about it, but still, the minimal, the better.

"Oh, come on, it's not arrogant for sure." Ajinkya paused, considering. "Well, in some sense maybe.... But definitely not in the wrong way, kid--!"

"It's okay, cap." Shubman decided to relieve the captain of his misery as he seemed a little too focused on finding the right word for exactly how he'd expected the former to be. He'd gotten a fair idea already.

"I'm more of a keep-my-head-down kind of guy. Showing off isn't my move." He paused, for dramatics of course.

"Except when the occasion calls for it, obviously." He wasn't a prude, dammit.

A chorus of "oohs" and "kid's got balls" echoed around him, with Ajinkya finally cracking a cheeky smile, finding his playful side endearing. Or at least that's how it seemed to Shubman.

"I say," Umar, another reserve player, came forward. "Why don't we test the new guy's skills a bit? Make him play a few overs by himself. See if his show-off is worth showing off, yeah?" With some encouraging noises, he moved to the captain and Shubman. "What say, cap? Prodigy?"

"I don't know, Umar. We don't want to exhaust him too much before the first match." Ajinkya glanced uncertainly towards the door their coach had disappeared in. "Coach seemed hell bent on none of us overworking ourselves."

"Aw come on, cap. Don't be a spoilsport!"

"Yeah, cap. It's not like a few overs will tire him out."

"And no one's gonna tell the coach, obviously. It'll be a fun team bonding practice."

"It'll be just five overs; each bowler takes one."

"The prodigy will also get to show off a little, cap. Wouldn't feel like a little kid amongst us anymore."

"Yeah cap, say yes! PLEASE!"

"Please cap!! PLEASEE!"

Ajinkya gazed at him unsurely, clearly at odds with making a good decision.

On one hand, logically, Shubman knew that playing a few overs by himself wasn't advised at this stage, given they had a match first thing tomorrow morning and he'd already done his share of practice today. Plus, he was low on sleep so there was only so much he could put himself through before he'd finally collapse.

On the other though, he knew Ajinkya was being put in a spot with him. And this was as much of a test for the captain as it was for him. While the team wouldn't really think low of the cap if he refused, there would certainly be people looking at it as a weakness to not be reckless once in a while.

Plus, if he could get the older guys to quit calling him a kid or prodigy, it was a good bargain for him.

He nodded at Ajinkya. It was fine. It was just five overs only.

And really, what could go wrong in five overs?

---

If someone had told Shubman that he'd be icing a slightly sprained ankle the night before his first Deodhar Trophy match against a team ranked higher than his, he'd curse at them for overshadowing. Because that was exactly what he was doing, sitting in the comfort of his room alone, skipping dinner for the aforementioned icing.

He pressed the ice pack a bit more against the offending ankle, glaring at it as if it'd gone and gotten itself injured at its free will. The 'show-off' had been a stupid move, he knew that. But the knowledge hadn't stopped him from going through it anyway. His right ankle was now injured (only a bit, but still) and he'd folded his legs to continue icing the sprain with both hands.

His only saving grace was the fact that none of his teammates or coaches knew about this little injury he'd gotten. Years of playing had granted him with enough acting skills to fake being okay with a small sprain anyway. The only people who knew were Ajinkya (because he'd caught Shubman stealing an ice pack from the fridge at the field earlier) and Ishan (because--

"Why aren't you coming to dinner, Mr. Showoff?"

"I'm good, ate a good lunch. You go ahead without me."

"You sure? You're not hiding out due to an injury from the 'show-off' earlier, are you?"

".....how'd you know?"

"I saw you putting more weight on your left leg earlier. Oh, and cap told me about it, something about helping my roommate out if he needed?"

-- that happened).

Shubman cursed, pressing the ice pack harder on the sprain, hissing as it seemed to pain him more than the promised relief. Ishan had gone out about two hours ago, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that one of the top order players of his team had gotten injured the night before their first match.

Maybe Shubman really was more of a kid as the older guys had taken to calling him. Sure, he got them to back off for now because of the 'show-off' but if his injury comes to light (which it will, during tomorrow's match), then the entire thing would just become a laughing and teasing matter for the team as far as he's concerned. Ajinkya's reputation will survive of course; he'd given the go ahead for the fun time, but Shubman's will suffer. And because he has an injury to his name now, his performance will also suffer, and he'd have a bad opening for his first Deodhar Trophy match and--

"Here." A roll wrapped in foil was thrust in his face, the guilty hands leading up to the build of his roommate. When Shubman looked up, scowling, Ishan just grinned unabashedly. "Wouldn't want a fellow batsman to starve now, would we?"

He grumbled, wanting to hold out a hand to take the roll from the guy but upon noticing the busy state of his hands, he just took a measured breath, nudging the roll off with his shoulders.

"I said I'm good. I wasn't lying about the heavy lunch."

"And I wasn't lying about you starving yourself."

"I can't eat it right now anyway; my hands are busy." He looked at his hands pointedly.

Ishan just let out an "ah!", sat down near Shubman's legs on his bed, and began unwrapping the foil paper. The distance between them wasn't short enough for Shubman to be worried about his personal space, but.....but Ishan was sitting on his bed. Without his permission.

"What are you doing?"

"Feeding you, duh."

"....what?"

"Did your ego after the 'show-off' get to your head already? Is that why you have troubling hearing now?"

"Shut up!"

"As you wish, master."

Shubman hoped his cheeks were just feeling hot because of the embarrassment of being fed by a fellow teammate and nothing else. He took the first bite a bit reluctantly. The other bites that followed were taken while resolutely ignoring the smug face Ishan had on. He wasn't hungry, the roll just had been too good.

"Don't call me that."

"What? Master? But you are my master now?"

"Why?"

"Well, you're injured and can't move without my assistance, so...."

"I didn't even," He took another bite, "aSk yOu tO hElP mE." (A/N: HE'S CHEWING, I'M SORRY)

"You should take bigger bites. Like open your mouth more."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just saying, it'll be over faster if you did. Go like 'AAAA'." He opened his mouth wide.

"... 'aaaa'."

"You don't do well with instructions, do you?"

"aNd yOu mmmwithmm quiet, do you?"

Ishan laughed, "What are you even saying?"

"You don't do well with being quiet, do you?" Shubman wiped his face with the back of his hand as the last of his roll vanished.

"Nah, I don't like silences. Make me feel queasy."

"Hm, good to know." He shrugged, already moving to throw the (now water) ice packs in the bin.

"Here, let me." Ishan took them from him, made his way to the bin, and then went to wash his hands in the adjoining bathroom. "You rest, master. Your servant will take care of you now."

Shubman huffed, embarrassed, propping up his ankle on the pillow before lying down on his bed properly. He tried to close his eyes as a quick glance at the clock overhead showed it was half past ten already and he had his quick early morning workout tomorrow before the match, something he had yet to overthink about. Ishan had interrupted his inner monologues earlier with the promise of dinner but now, as the time to sleep came closer, he could feel the beginnings of another monologue forming already.

"Hey, you're not going to sleep before brushing your teeth, are you?"

Shubman was, but being reminded about it meant he should not.

"No, of course not. I just forgot because of the stress."

Ishan smirked as he came forward to help him get up without moving his ankle. "Sure, master, let's go with that." A hand went on his elbow, while the other went around his shoulders to grip his other bicep.

Shubman shook the hands off him, getting up with less finesse than he'd intended but at least he got up on his own. "Quit calling me that."

"And miss your scowl? Hell no."

Shubman sighed, making his way to the adjoined bathroom, limping a little but the pain had now subsided in a dull throb due the excessive ice packs and Ibuprofens he had popped earlier. He could feel some of his good feeling come back. Maybe he wasn't as doomed as he'd thought. With the right amount of rest, dosage of the painkiller and a bit less heavy workout in the morning, he'd be as good as new for the match in the afternoon.

His good mood lasted for as long as he cleaned up, brushed his teeth and went back to bed. The moment Ishan turned off the lights of their room, and silence etched between them, he could feel his thoughts resurfacing.

What if he can't fall asleep? What if he sleeps in a certain way that hurts his ankle even more? Would he be able to play then? What if he took too many Ibuprofens in the morning and wasn't cleared to play the match? Oh my god, now that this thought popped up in his mind, he suddenly didn't remember how many he'd already taken. What if he can't wake up in the morning due to being under rest, sleeps through his practice and doesn't get called for the match? Shubman knew that one was a bit farfetched, but he was spiraling goddamnit and nothing in his mind made sense anymore and what if--

"What about you?" Ishan had asked him.

Huh? "Huh?"

"What makes you queasy, master?"

Easy. "You calling me master."

Ishan laughed. "Good one. Seriously though, what makes you queasy?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why can't you tell me regardless?"

"What if you're asking to prank me?"

"What if you're just being paranoid?"

"What if I don't care?"

"Ugh, what if I say you're a kid?"

"Hey, take that back."

"Hm, what if I don't care, roomie?"

"Oh, come on, like you're allowed to call me a kid. Aren't you my age too?"

"Nah, I'm like a year older than you, kid. Call me bhaiya, alright?"

Shubman almost gagged. "What the fuck, dude? Who calls each other bhaiya anymore? And a year isn't even that big of a difference."

"Why? You won't call cap bhaiya when he stops being our cap after the tournament? I knew you didn't have manners but damn, kid, this is even worse."

"You're meant to call me Gill, Kishan. And no, this isn't about mannerisms! It's about.....about....."

"Ha! I win this round, Gill."

"NO, wait, I know what this is about. If you'd just let me finish my fucking sentence--!"

"Ooh, swearing twice now, are we? You really know nothing about--" a small yawn "-- manners, do you?"

The small yawn triggered its sibling inside Shubman too. He fought it, but the fatigue didn't take long to catch up.

"Please shut up."

"Nah, I told you silences make me queasy. Unlike you, I'm not paranoid to let my roommate know my weakness."

"Oh for--" another small yawn "--fuck's sake, crowds make me--" he yawned this time "--queasy. Happy?"

"Yes, very! I win this round too."

"Oh, god!"

"My name's Ishan, Gill."

"Go to sleep, Kishan."

"As you wish, master."

Shubman just sighed, facing away from his roommate to finally let sleep take hold of him. It'd been a long day anyway.

"Good night, Gill."

And if his overthinking had been put on hold again because of whatever he'd had with Ishan just now (he knew it wasn't a conversation, for sure), he was too tired to really do anything about it. 

".....good night."

Notes:

can i just say that i absolutely loved writing them bickering every chance they got? the update schedule i had planned got fucked again because i couldn't control myself from posting this sshdkjdfbkjsbfskd

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 4: day 2 & day 3 (part I)

Notes:

the entire two matches' scorecards can be viewed pretty much anywhere so the details are correct (well as correct as I could get without actually watching the match) -_-

They lost.

It was their first match, India B's second, and they lost, and Shubman was devastated.

His performance hadn't been bad, he knew that. Given the circumstances the team was in from the rocky opening, coupled with the fact that it was their first match, Shubman knew not to feel that guilty. He was the second top scorer in his team for that match, had stayed for a long time on the pitch and made a good 44 run partnership with Ajinkya, something the latter had been appreciative about too, so it wasn't really about the performance.

It was about the fact that his reputation had preceded himself, and he couldn't put justice to it. Getting selected for the India C team had been sad enough, but that, and the fact that he'd gone and gotten himself injured in a fit of ego, the night before the first match and then proceeded to lose the said match? The icing on the destroyed cake of Shubman's reputation really. The guy had won U19 international tournaments, plural, for fuck's sake; he wasn't a prodigy for nothing. And losing the first match out of the only two they were meant to play wasn't really ideal.

"Why didn't you tell the coach you injured?" Ajinkya hissed, sliding in the seat next to him on the bus back to their hotel after the match.

Shubman shrugged, "I didn't think telling him would solve anything. I'd still remain injured, still have the same performance, but with the added pressure of coach's disappointment."

"Still, it's not nice to keep an injury from coach. He'll get mad if he gets to know that we kept it from him."

"You can go ahead and tell him. It doesn't matter either way because we lost, didn't we?"

Ajinkya inhaled sharply next to him. "You don't blame yourself for it, do you?"

"No, not really. I know I did good. But, losing is still bad."

"It's not if you learn something from it."

Shubman stayed silent, watching the Delhi nightlife pass from the window he sat next to. Ajinkya seemed to respect his silence, not pressuring him for more. A few moments later, Shubman couldn't keep himself from asking.

"What did you learn from today's match, then?"

The captain hummed thoughtfully, "Our first innings was good, in some sense. 231 is a decent target, the bowling was spectacular, if I'm being honest. But then, we got a bit overconfident and so our opening was weak but then the middle order couldn't really make up for it. Wickets kept falling but there were no runs to compensate. And after that, all of us just...gave up.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that we had hope and then we lost it, pretty early in the second innings just because one set of people couldn't live up to our expectation. We didn't wait for the other bunch to perform, so they didn't, in my opinion and it sort of continued till the end. That is what I learnt from today's match."

It was a good answer, Shubman had to admit that. Till now, all he could focus on was the fact that he hadn't been at the top of his game for obvious reasons, but this holistic view showed him that while he was at fault partially, the entire team had given up too soon for their own good. It wasn't just him.

The team didn't stop for dinner on their way to their rooms, seemingly agreeing on the unspoken pact of ordering room service tonight. Shubman reached his room before his roommate, cleaned up and had started treating his ankle again after ordering room service for two before Ishan made his way inside the room.

They didn't say anything except a nod they gave each other as a greeting and got busy with their own thing. Shubman found it weird, how silent the room had been despite Ishan being there. Something about it didn't sit well with Shubman but he ignored it for the time being.

Twenty minutes later, he got up to receive his room service as Ishan was still in the shower and kept the latter's share on his bed before returning to his own to eat. He'd been halfway through the chapatis he'd ordered before Ishan came back and saw the dinner on his bed.

"Thank you." He said softly and Shubman just nodded.

They resumed their respective activities again, seemingly ignoring the other's presence as much as possible. Shubman didn't know what had prompted his roommate to do this after the bickering session they had last night but he just went along with, too tired to want to talk about it.

Shubman thought about the match again, finally allowing himself to indulge in criticism after finishing dinner and laid back against his headboard, left leg still touching the floor. He thought about his performance, thought about his lack of finesse in fielding, lack of coordination during his batting. Thought about how many balls he'd missed, 36 runs on 45 balls were good but not the best strike rate Shubman knew he was capable of. He thought about what Ajinkya had said, about how the team gained hope but gave up before doing anything.

They'd lost the toss and somewhere in the back of his mind, Shubman had already felt the seeds of doubt against their win sprout from that moment, though he wouldn't admit to such superstitious things in broad daylight. He thought about how he was supposed to do good in the second innings even if their fielding had been fine. Then he went on to think about how being drafted in India C must've been a good decision anyway because with the performance he gave today, there was no way he was anything above a C team draft and--

"Hey, quit doing that."

Ishan had said, pointing towards his leg that didn't seem to stop bouncing anytime soon. Shubman scowled, not really paying any heed to the request. That was the first thing he wanted to say after spending the last few hours in silence? Shubman couldn't understand him.

Nevertheless, where was he? Oh yeah, maybe he really was a C team draft after all and Shubman knew he was spiraling again and he should rather be focusing on practicing and improving, not on thinking the worst of everything. But still, it was his reputation and career and-- was that a hand on his fucking thigh?

"What the fuck?" He snapped, throwing the offending hand off as if it burned him. The owner of the hand just shrugged, seemingly happy with the fact that at least the bouncing had stopped.

"You weren't listening to me, I had to do something." He said, leaning back against the headboard of his twin bed. "It's actually a pet peeve of mine, so if you remember that, it'd be good help."

"Why do you think I'd care about your pet peeve more than my anxiety?"

"Because we're roommates. So, we have to live cordially."

"....you know it's not that simple, right?"

"It is if you don't complicate it."

"Well, complicating gives it more dimensions to grow, so it's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Never said complicating was bad. Just complicating everything in life is bad."

"But what if complicating things made you understand your problems better?"

"What if it made you realize problems you didn't even have to begin with?"

"Isn't that the whole point?"

Ishan sighed, running a hand around his face tiredly, "Are we even talking about your leg anymore?"

Shubman gaped, "Of course not, dimwit. What gave it away? The overthinking? The 'complications'? The--"

"Hey, watch it." Ishan snapped. He then got up, turned the lights off by practically smashing the switches as if they were Shubman, before coming back to his bed, the rustling of his sheets the only sound in the room.

Admittedly, Shubman felt a bit guilty for making the guy lose his cool. The match had been decent for Shubman. It wasn't even near of what Ishan had gone through. A middle order batsman, scoring only five runs off of twenty something balls, it certainly wasn't what Shubman would've been calm about so yeah, he felt a bit guilty--

"You want drama then go somewhere else. Don't come at me for making decent requests." --not.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're looking for a fight, clearly. If not a fight, then at least some distraction to take your mind off the loss."

Shubman bristled; this guy was treating him as an actual kid. "Are you sure you're not projecting? Because you started this, not me."

"'You started it, not me'." Ishan mocked. "What are you, five?"

"What the hell is your problem, man?"

"You bouncing your leg for no reason at all. And then picking a fight with me for objecting to it because it irritates me."

"Well....well....." Shubman flailed his hands around. "You irritate me, but you don't see me objecting to your existence, do you?"

"That's because you're a coward."

"That's because I'm a--what?"

"A coward. And egoistic but we'll get to that later. You're a coward who wouldn't own up to his mistake of getting hurt during an unnecessary 'show-off', and then playing badly because of it."

"Yeah, I don't think our definitions of playing badly align, Kishan. Because I wasn't the one who missed catches while wicket keeping the first innings and then made a sad five on twenty in the second."

Ishan was glaring at him he was sure (even though he couldn't see with the lights out), clearly hurt at his performance being questioned. Shubman knew he was being harsh but what the hell, the guy started it.

They stayed quiet for a minute or so, exhaustion of the match and their kinda-sorta fight finally catching up on them. Shubman laid down properly now, feeling the tiredness spread through his bones like someone was draining his energy.

"I'm sorry." He heard Ishan mutter after what felt like half an hour, though he couldn't be sure. "I was just tired, and your leg was irritating me, and I was already mad at you for performing better than me, it just sort of burst out, I guess."

Shubman let a cheeky smile slip on to his face. Ah, the sweet taste of victory!

"You guess?"

"Oh, come on, don't be an ass about it now. I apologized, didn't I?"

"Hm, that you did. But also...." Shubman hesitated, not sure if he should speak up or not.

"Also?" Ishan prompted.

"I don't think you played badly." When Ishan let out a snort of indignation, he amended his words. "Well, not too badly anyway. It wasn't entirely your fault is what I'm trying to say."

"As if knowing that will make me feel better about potentially sitting out tomorrow's game."

"Hey, you weren't bad enough to be reserved, that I can say. But like what I mean is that all of us kind of gave up pretty early in the second inning because the pressure of not performing well after a good first inning caught us. Also, the bowlers weren't really cooperative with you today, so that's not all up on you."

More silence followed and Shubman felt afraid for a minute that Ishan had fallen asleep before listening to his words of wisdom. Well, not exactly his, but he did change the phrasing a bit, so it was fine. And whatever, it's the thought that counts right?

But when Shubman was almost on the verge of falling asleep, he heard Ishan sigh tiredly before soft, barely there words registered in his mind.

"Thank you, for saying that. You're quite..... wiser than your age."

Shubman smiled briefly, his first real one in the two days he'd been here.

"You're only a year older than me, old man"

"Okay, I take that back. You're a kid." They both laughed and another silence followed, although this one seemed concluding.

"Good night, Kishan."

"Good night, Gill."

"....so, does that mean I win this round?"

---

The second match against team India A was supposed to be their ride or die match.

If they won, they'd be sent to play the finals against team India B which had already qualified. If they lost, that was all for their Deodhar Trophy journey.

It was also not what Shubman had expected.....in a good way.

They'd lost the toss again, but Shubman knew better than too be superstitious about it this time around. India A had elected to bat, and with their dwindling fielding, the score for them to chase was 293, greater than yesterday's 231.

But Shubman and Ajinkya already had a word during their break in the innings and were feeling good about their standings until Ajinkya got out because of a nasty catch at just 14 on twenty something balls. It was now his turn to go to the pitch and Shubman, though still in the good feeling from earlier, felt small inklings of doubt resurface now. He pushed them aside, choosing to focus on the pitch and the game than the unnecessary questions in his mind.

But the questions only increased as Abhinav, an opener alongside Ajinkya, got bold just as he and Shubman had started forming a good partnership of runs. Shubman knew he couldn't let this affect him for he was holding his pitch with no intentions of letting go anytime soon, but people often underestimated the lack of a good partner for a leading batsman in a match.

He knew they were still fairly in the beginning of the game and if he maintains his control on the pitch, he'll be fine, but a good partner was the only thing Shubman was missing, really. He just needed one of his batsmen to have that coordination with him, be set in the crease just like he was, and he'd win the match, he was certain of it. But as Suresh Raina, the first middle order batsman was run out by none other than Anmolpreet (Shubman pointedly ignored his winning smirk), his doubts had begun to creep in at full force.

As he waited on the pitch for the next batsman to come, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Technically, there had been no change in the order for today's match, so Suryakumar Yadav was supposed to come down for batting next. Shubman had a fair knowledge of the batsman and his game, but it wasn't enough for him to be confident that the partnership he was craving would be available with this particular batsman.

But as the small build of his roommate emerged from the pavilion, down the stairs towards the field, clad in the very same gear he was in, Shubman felt some of his doubt ebb away. Maybe, just maybe they could it work.

It was a tough thing, but when they shook their bats with each other for the first time and moved forward to talk about a strategy, he could see the cheeky smile his roommate had on, and Shubman felt more of his doubt melt away in the slightly chilly Delhi October air.

"We got this, you hear me?"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Simple, you have the pitch all warmed up and have settled in here. All I have to do is assist you for you to work your magic, right?"

Shubman gave a bewildered nod. Was he that easy to read?

"I'd been working this strategy in my mind ever since Abhinav got bold." Ishan whispered as an explanation. "If I make some runs in the process, that's cool too. You just focus on yourself, and your servant will do the rest, master." With a weird bow, he winked and went his way to the inactive crease where the bowler was already positioned, leaving Shubman to shake off his thoughts and questions and move to the active crease.

Just work your magic and Ishan will take care of the rest, his mind assured him, and Shubman couldn't lie to himself that this wasn't exactly what he'd been missing. The perfect partnership that led to a good 121 runs between them, and his first list-A century.

This was good for his career, he knew that. The difference between their run rates was large, sure, but anyone with two eyes and a good knowledge of cricket could see how much Ishan was doing for him. He could've become the lead batsman himself if he wanted, Shubman wouldn't have objected if that could lead them to win the match. But he hadn't even presented that offer once in front of the other, just going along with whatever directions Shubman continued giving him throughout their partnership.

More than that though, this had led to Shubman being surprisingly confident and not filled with questions anymore when India A called out their appeal for the lbw Ishan hadn't been given by the umpire. Sure, Shubman was wary, because they had been working so well and smoothly together and he knew if their appeal was given, Ishan will be out, and he'd have to adjust into a new partnership again.

But also, he was just not that concerned about the match as he had been before Ishan had arrived because they had 87 runs to make off of 89 balls and Shubman knew he could do it with whatever batsman would come if India A were given their appeal. This confidence was because of his trust in himself of course but also because--

"I can't say for sure, but I think my leg-pad did hit the ball."

"Really? They've asked for an appeal now; it would be a straight out for you if that is true."

Ishan hummed, "I know, but it's not like there's much work left here now. I trust you to do some clean up on your own without me, master."

Shubman huffed, "Shut it. The master joke is going to get old real soon, I'm telling you."

"Nah, I don't think I'm ever gonna stop calling you that. It fits, you know."

"Now, what is that supposed to--?!"

"But," Ishan interrupted his question, "focus, okay? You have a list-A century to your name, and you've been playing well till now, so after me, you will be their target. It's obvious. And you can't be out this close to the end of the match."

"Yeah, okay. I knew all of that anyway." He'd played cricket before too, thank you very much.

"After all, my master deserves some kind of victorious ceremony on his name too, you know." Ishan laughed, just as the screen on the top showed a glowing red OUT, meaning India A had been given their appeal.

Ishan just did that weird bow again. "This was my time with you master, may you lead us to great victories." and a wink were all he got before Ishan turned back to go toward their pavilion, leaving Shubman to his own devices and Suryakumar.

--that happened.

They'd won the match, of course. Shubman, having a century and being not out at the end of match, had also been given the Man of the Match title, something he subtly pointed towards Ishan in gratitude.

(He certainly didn't rub the title all over Anmolpreet's face, he wasn't that petty.

Maybe.)

Notes:

you have no idea of my joy when i saw that ishman had kinda led their team to victory this specific match. i love canon compliant 🥹

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 5: day 3 (part II) & day 4

“OH MY GOD, you should’ve seen his face, Gill! He was this close to hitting you, I swear.”

Ishan doubled over again as he laughed at the expense of Anmolpreet being subjected to Shubman’s ‘show-off’ of the Man of the Match title. He didn’t think it was being petty if it resulted in Anmolpreet finally giving a rest to the mocking words he’d resorted to ever since he’d met him this tournament. The fact that Ishan had been there to witness it all had been extra fun, nothing else.

They were in the hotel elevator, going up to their room to call it an early night while most of their teammates went out to celebrate their win and position in the finals, given that they didn’t have a match or early morning practice tomorrow. The finals were scheduled for the day after tomorrow, giving all the players at least a day’s rest.

Shubman hadn’t been a big fan of crowds ever, so it had been a straight, understood, and unsaid no for him to go out with the team. He just wanted to give himself some much-needed rest after today’s performance and the dull throb in his ankle had also started acting up during dinner, so that needed attention too. He wasn’t really sure why Ishan had insisted on staying back though.

As far as Shubman knew the guy, he was as outgoing as you’d expect an average twenty-year-old to be, given their line of work. He was all about team spirit and team bonding and even in the days they’d been here, Shubman had noticed him coming back late to their shared room after dinner because he’d usually be up with some of his friends in the lounge room, playing pool and talking (or so had Shubman been told).

When the talks of going out to celebrate had started, he was sure Ishan would be among the first players to get up and start making plans as to where their celebratory party needed to happen. There had been people like that in every team Shubman had played for till now, so it was obvious.

A voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like anxiety whispered that Shubman was jealous of Ishan. Not jealous as in talent or something. God knew that they were as good as the other on the field, if not more and they were the resident team prodigies for a reason. So, Shubman knew it wasn’t talent, it was… something he didn’t want to think about right then, that bit he was sure about.

So, it wasn’t just him but everyone had been shocked when Ishan suddenly declared his plans of calling it an early night too, something about working too hard to assist the ‘Man of the Match’ (he’d almost said master in front of everyone, had Shubman not stepped on his foot in warning) had tired him out apparently.

Shubman called bullshit.

“Why didn’t you go with the guys tonight?” He asked first thing as they moved inside their room. Shubman had hogged the bathroom already, armed with his kit and all. Ishan laughed at his protective stance against the bathroom door and gave him a go ahead wave of hand, but didn’t answer his question.

This occurred to Shubman whilst he was in the middle of his shower, so naturally, he turned off the same and called out, “Hey, Kishan! Answer my question.”

Another laugh and then, “What was it? I forgot.”

Suspicious but Shubman ignored it for now. “Why didn’t you go out with the guys tonight?”

“I told you and everyone this earlier, I am genuinely tired. I didn’t feel like going out tonight, is all really.”

Shubman knew this wasn’t it. Hell, the guy had gone to play and just talk with the guys even when they’d lost the last match, so something wasn’t right, he knew it. And something akin to common sense was telling him to drop it at least till his shower was complete, Ishan had also cleaned up and maybe when both of them were in bed with the lights of their room turned off, he could bring it up again. But Shubman was on a roll today, eager to do anything but hear that suspicious voice start complete and utter nonsense in his mind again. As if Shubman was actually jealous of Ishan’s populari--

“You know, I and everyone know you’re lying, right?”

“Why?” Ishan whined, a small sound from the back of his throat. The fact that Shubman could hear it had to have been a feat in itself really. “Couldn’t I actually be tired after a long match?”

“You could, but your track record, as your friends were saying, clearly shows that you have partied on wins before, even when you were arguably more tired than tonight. So, really, your reputation has preceded you.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst.” Ha, didn’t Shubman know it.

“Come on now,” He gave up on resuming his shower again, too invested in the current topic of conversation to care. “It’s just us two here; you can tell me the real reason.”

“Technically,” Shubman knew from that tone alone that Ishan wasn’t on the path to give him a real reason. Hell, he wasn’t even on the same planet, Shubman was sure.

He hurriedly dried himself and started getting dressed, as Ishan continued, “I’m the only one here, you’re in the washroom which doesn’t really count-- oh!”

Ishan gasped, wide eyes looking up at Shubman as he all but snatched the door open. In his defense, he hadn’t noticed that for him to be audible, Ishan had been shouting right in front of the bathroom door. Shubman mentally cursed himself and sidestepped Ishan to get behind him. The shock had rendered him motionless for a moment and Shubman took advantage of that as he pushed the shorter male inside the washroom by his shoulders, grumbling at the squawk of surprise Ishan let out at being manhandled like that. “Go, get cleaned up. I’m ordering dessert for us and then we’re talking. Like actual talk.”

When Ishan swirled around to look at him with eyes narrowed like he was actually offended Shubman had pushed him like that (so easily), Shubman pressed his hand against the other’s mouth and asked sweetly, “Ice cream works?”

He deserved the bite on his palm.

---

Two hours, one classic fudge, one mint-chocolate ice cream (--who even thinks about this flavor anymore, Gill--), and two (almost) pillow fights later, Shubman sprawled out on his bed with a tired sigh and closed his eyes. The only sound in the room was the light footsteps of his roommate pattering around to turn the light off before he heard the tell-tale sound of a body dropping dead on a bed.

He snorted, “Are the dead okay?”

A tired huff was offered to him in response, “You cannot go around pushing me like that, Gill. I have something like a fully functioning body to do that, thank you very much.”

“But you’re so… easy to move around. It’s frustrating.”

Ishan scoffed, “Easy to move around? What am I? Furniture?”

“Yes, very loud, very annoying, very irritating, very wholesome, very--”

“Ok, ok, I feel the love, Shubman, you’re flattering me now.” Ishan said drily, deadpan seeping into his voice.

“Gill, please.”

Ishan got up a little then, turning on his elbow to face Shubman. He could see that because they’d forgotten to draw the curtains earlier so now their room was slightly lit by the lights from the balcony. “Fine, Gill.” A few moments and then, “Why Gill, though?”

Shubman chuckled, mirroring his position and leaning on his elbow to face Ishan. Somehow, he knew Ishan would ask that. “No reason. Also, I wanna ask you something.”

Ishan pouted, “No fair, I asked you first.” But he gave Shubman the go ahead wave to ask so it was all cool again.

“Why didn’t you go out with the guys tonight?” Shubman repeated. Ishan groaned.

“Why can’t you drop it?”

“Come on,” This time, Shubman whined (though he wouldn’t admit to that ever) and continued, “I said we will talk after ice cream. It’s the two of us now.” When Ishan still didn’t look convinced, “Please, Kishan. Please?”

The said guy just blinked owlishly at him. “And what makes you think I trust you to not tell the others about it?”

“Uhhh,” That made Shubman pause. “The fact that you knew about my injury but still didn’t tell anyone else about it?”

“Doesn’t that mean I have the upper hand here?” He continued before Shubman think of a reply, “And if you push me too much, I can still tell the guys that the kid hasn’t really grown up because he got injured---!”

Shubman threw his beloved pillow at Ishan (again) for the sake of getting him to shut up. Really, why was this guy so annoying?

“Can’t you just hold a normal conversation like a normal human being?”

“Can’t you just accept that not everyone has to live by your standards?”

Shubman tilted his head, confused by the sudden statement. “What does that mean?”

“Simple, you’re always looking down at people who don’t live the way you do.”

“I absolutely don’t, why would you assume the worst about me?”

“Uh, you absolutely do.” Ishan looked so sure, it had Shubman questioning himself for a second. “Say, on the scale of one to ten, how much do you hate celebratory parties like tonight’s?”

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t like crowds, a fact I told you--”

“--after being prompted about it a thousand times, yes, yes, I remember. Still, rate your dislike for these parties, then?”

“… strong six, maybe seven?”

“Damn, that’s more than I was imagining.” Ishan chuckled. “Now, rate how much you hate, sorry, dislike people like me who actually enjoy going to such parties.”

Shubman knew where this was headed and he didn’t like it one bit. Also, when had Ishan gotten the time to know him like this? Or was he really just an open book?

“Again, I don’t dislike you guys for enjoying the parties. I just don’t think they’re necessary for the functioning of a team.”

“So, what do you suggest a team should do to celebrate when they win a hard-earned match?”

“… ”

“Thought so.” With a satisfied hum, Ishan turned away from Shubman.

After a while, Shubman let out a tired sigh. “This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”

For the longest time, there was no reply and then, “I don’t think you really want to know the real reason, Gill.” Ishan turned his head a bit to look at him over his shoulder, a bit of sadness swirling in his eyes when Shubman glanced at him. Or maybe it was balcony light. “You just think if I told you and no one else, you’d have an upper hand against everyone about knowing something they don’t.”

No one said anything after that. Shubman knew he was right so he didn’t make an effort to correct him. He did, however, make an effort to turn away from Ishan.

Don’t get him wrong, he was concerned about Ishan and the strange behavior of calling an early night raised some flags in his mind too. But the real reason had been, as Ishan had said so simply, to know something about the team that nobody knew. Nobody except Ishan, but still.

Shubman never liked crowds and had always opted to sleep out the winning parties his teams had thrown so naturally, he’d always been behind in terms of team gossip. It was a conscious decision and he didn’t let the lack of bonding affect him as long as he knew he was playing a good game on the field, because that is what mattered to him anyway. It didn’t help that he was also the youngest in the many tournaments he’d played till now; giving him less number of people to connect to.

He didn’t really realize it, but all these missed opportunities of bonding were getting to him and somewhere along the line, he had started resenting the people who liked them. His main reasoning behind asking Ishan had been to know why the party king himself didn’t want to party hard, tonight of all times. The voice in the back of his mind called out to him again, only this time, Shubman let it.

He was jealous of Ishan and his popularity within the team. Even though they were the youngest there, even though it was their first time playing with this team, Ishan had managed to get camaraderie here too, very unlike Shubman who knew nothing better than to bitch about it internally.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go, but maybe, Shubman really needed to think things through before asking questions he might not like the answers to.

“I think I have always been scared,” He began softly into the darkness, not really caring if his roommate was awake or not. This was the first time he had the urge to just open up, say something instead of grumbling and moaning about it in his mind.

“Of people, sure. Crowds are scary for a reason and they really do make me queasy. But more than that, I was....” he trailed off again. It was humiliating to say this.

He was….

Shubman was….

….embarrassed. For reasons he’d never admitted to anyone, not even himself.

“People have always assumed that I would be outgoing and fun because I’m a Punjabi.” He muttered, shuffling about his bed to find a comfortable position. This just made him face the general direction of Ishan’s bed again.

“You know how it is. Cultures create stereotypes and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I didn’t really fit into the ones my culture came with. My family never pressured me for it, either. They knew I was a shy kid so they didn’t try to make me into something I wasn’t. But, the people outside of them weren’t as….” He trailed off, finding it weird to talk about something so trivial.

“Accepting?” He heard Ishan mutter just as softly and nodded his head. Then remembered that Ishan couldn’t see this reaction because he was still facing away from Shubman. He smiled lightly, getting up to draw the curtains of the room to block out balcony light before continuing.

“Yeah, accepting. The first team I played with was Punjabi, through and through.” Ishan huffed and Shubman knew he got what he was about to say. “They were ready to outcast me when I tried to back out of going to the winning celebration with them. My parents had to intervene in the end, taking me back home mid-party because I was so scared of the huge crowd there. That made them realize that I really hadn’t wanted to go.” Shubman sighed, remembering the chaos it had caused, both in his performance the next match and his life back home. The next team had been the same, refusing to let him go without a valid reason and his parents had to rescue him again.

He paused, hesitating whether to say the next thing in his mind or not.

A few taps against the edge of his bed facing Ishan’s made the decision for him. He could only imagine how much the shorter guy had to lean forward to do that while making sure he didn’t fall because their beds were far. His mind conjured up an image of Ishan doing just that and he chuckled lightly. As if knowing he was laughing at him, Ishan returned his pillow from earlier, hitting his chest as he laughed again. He sobered up quickly though, remembering to complete his admission.

“It wasn’t their fault, I know that. And they didn’t do it intentionally to humiliate me, I know that too. But people around me had started making fun of me for it. They were always going on about how I was still a kid, and how I didn’t know to live without my parents. And they were all my age at that time, so it got suffocating and very embarrassing after that. And then I just... stopped going to these altogether because I didn’t want my parents to have to rescue me again. I like my independence. Hated it when they called me--”

“--kid.” Ishan completed for him, realization for his reactions setting in finally. Shubman hummed.

“Yeah, that. Before you go pitying me though, I’m over it, okay? I don’t go to these parties for the reasons I just told you but that doesn’t mean that I get fomo. I’m fine with sitting these out if that means I get to keep my self-reliance intact.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I’m good, really.”

Ishan just hummed and didn’t say anything for a while. When Shubman was sure the conversation was over, he turned to his other side, finally feeling the fatigue of the match and their conversation creep in again.

“I know nothing I say would make you change your mind.” Ishan began a while later. His voice was soft, and it only made Shubman want to sleep more. “And I don’t even want to change your mind anymore. But I just want you to know that you’ve grown up now. Anyone with eyes can see that. Restricting yourself because of your past experiences is fine, but you might feel that need for connection and bonding with your team once in a while too. I know I do, all the time.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“I’m going off-topic. Sorry. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you ever want to try hanging out with your team again, and I happen to be around you guys at that time, I will make sure you don’t ever feel the way you did back then, okay? I promise.”

Shubman allowed himself to think of a team gathering where he doesn’t feel awkward again. Where he feels like he belongs and yeah, that was a nice thought. Too bad he didn’t have the courage to make it into a reality just yet.

“Good night, Kishan.”

“Good night, Gill.”

---

The break day before the finals had gone exactly how Shubman had thought. They had practice all day and the anticipation of playing finals was enough to have everyone keep their behaviors in check. He found he quite liked days like these when people were too focused on their shit to comment about his.

The conversation from last night was still circling his mind, what with Ishan acting as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just torn apart the very foundation of Shubman’s lack of fun interactions with his team, as though he hadn’t made Shubman doubt his motives for avoiding team gatherings till now, and what he was going to do about it for the future.

There was also this part of him that was concerned about losing the finals, but Shubman had enough confidence in himself and his team to deal with that on his own.

It was the night before finals and Shubman had been contemplating the entire dinner whether he wanted to make a certain decision or not. It wasn’t like him to ponder upon this for even a second, but something about last night had left him defenseless, in some sense.

He’d been in the process of wiping his mouth with a tissue when Navdeep, a reserve, came up to Ishan, who had a habit of sitting next to Shubman this entire tournament. “Hey, Ishan, you coming to play pool for a while tonight, right? Or did today’s practice really tire you out, again?” Everyone around them laughed. Even Ishan. Shubman didn’t think it was funny, but oh well.

“I don’t know, Navdeep,” Ishan began next to him, taking his empty plate and standing up “if I come, would you tell me about how you got rejected by that bartender yesterday?” This, even Shubman found funny.

The guys began talking crap about each other, trading stories about last night in the way that Shubman had resorted to ignoring over the years, because according to him, nothing about their jeers and teasing was worth his time, but again, last night had happened. Today’s Shubman was different. Or at least he was trying to be.

“Hey, guys,” He called out to the group of people who were walking towards the lounge room, in the opposite direction of the lift lobby they’d left him at. Everyone turned around and Shubman could feel himself become nervous. Only Ishan was smiling, as though he knew what Shubman had put himself through the entire day and was encouraging him to take this last step.

“Can I join you tonight?” 

---

Notes:

no, i don't know their favorite ice cream flavors, yes i was too lazy to look it up online.
fun fact: this chapter went through some major restructuring and addition when i finally got around to posting it. I didn't like the first draft of this chapter one bit. it was shit, through & through.

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 6: day 5 (part I)

They had won the finals against team India B. They had won the Deodhar Trophy. Ishan had scored his first list-A century.

The day kept getting better and better as the match went on and Shubman was on fucking cloud nine. His team had won the Deodhar Trophy. He had won his first Deodhar trophy and nothing the media had to say about him during the start was anywhere to be found. He'd cleared his reputation, his career was good to go and he'd definitely managed to prove the credibility of his prodigy status.

His performance in the match hadn't been anything extraordinary, he'd made very decent runs like the first match and his fielding was at par, the very least. So, he knew, the moment the high of winning would come down, he'd go back to criticizing himself for the performance he'd delivered after getting Man of the Match the previous game.

But for now, he just wanted to focus on the goods of the win. The fact that Ishan had finally woken up from his dwindled state to absolutely conquer the entire match was everything Shubman had been secretly hoping from his, um, rival prodigy and then some. It'd been a while since a fellow teammate's performance had rendered him speechless, but it just went on to prove how much he and the members had underestimated the other prodigy on the team. Ishan was on fire on the field today, his first list-A century when he went as an opener in the first innings and three catches to his name as the WK for the second innings.

Nothing could've stopped him from being the man of the match of the finals, Shubman was sure, but for some reason the title was given to Ajinkya for his, undoubtedly amazing, 144* first innings, marking his 10th list-A century. Shubman wasn't sad that his captain had gotten the title; he'd been a big fan of the guy since he came here the first day, but something akin to disappointment slithered its way in his heart when he saw the bright smile on Ishan's face dim a little, when the title was announced. It wasn't unfair, he knew but still, he wanted to be happy and petty for his new friend.

Friend. That'd been a new development too. Shubman knew better than to get attached to a teammate in tournaments like these because no team was fixed. It all came down to how well their performance was. So, really, all his 'friends' in the league had been guys he'd literally grown up playing with. He didn't need new friends in the league, because it was hard playing against his childhood friends already, he didn't want the added burden of playing against new friends in different tournaments too. But sometime last night, Ishan had, albeit a bit tipsily, said that Shubman was his friend and Shubman didn't have the heart to correct him.

Now, they were en route to the bar the guys had found during their last win but couldn't go to because the number of people had been significantly less at that point. This time though, the entire team, coaches and staff were going to celebrate their win as well as the successful end of the tournament. Shubman usually sat these outings out, but after having some good fun with the guys last night, he knew they wouldn't let him go without a fight. They were like leech or something, he swore.

"Hey, how's it going?" Ajinkya asked as he slid in the seat next to him on the bus. Shubman was hit with a déjà vu of their similar positions after their first loss, not two days ago.

"You tell me, cap. Man of the Match and all?"

Ajinkya winced, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish expression. "Between you and me, kid, I think your roommate deserved it more, really."

Shubman knew he did, but he wasn't about to make the captain feel worse than he already was. "You and I both know that's not true cap, you completed your 10th century, for heaven's sake."

Ajinkya just raised an eyebrow at him and with a show of surrendering hands, Shubman dropped the subject too.

"What's the plan after this, kid?"

Shubman hummed thoughtfully, "The tour against New Zealand is the goal for now. Having a decent performance this tournament was all my coach back home had assured would take for me to get a spot."

"Now that you've won the tournament, your confidence is good to go, I'm assuming?"

He cracked a cheeky smile, "I don't know, cap. Sounds like you're jealous of my talents."

Ajinkya laughed heartily, "As if your barely grown ass could make me afraid of my own spot, kid. But, on a serious note, that was what I wanted to talk to you about actually. Before we go our separate ways."

Shubman straightened his posture too at the serious tone of his captain. "Yeah? What happened cap? All good?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's good. Just, I saw the India A coach talking to our right after the match and they said something about the few potential players from all the teams to be chosen for the squad for January."

"The New Zealand series?" Now Shubman was invested, completely. It was his next goal after this tournament after all.

"Yeah, the New Zealand tour. You're in luck, kid, I heard them mention you...." he dropped his voice to a whisper, "Dinesh, the captain from the A team, and Krunal from A team too. It's nothing sure obviously, just wanted to give you a heads up, is all."

Shubman was stunned, to say the least. It'd been his goal obviously, but to have a goal and actually be considered for it were two entirely different things in his line of work and he knew better than anyone to not take this for granted even for a second. He'd done that enough during the Deodhar Trophy try-outs, he couldn't risk it again.

"That's......great news, cap." It really was, but... "But you didn't mention your name for it."

Ajinkya shrugged, nonchalantly but Shubman knew better. "It's cool, kid. I need a good rest anyway. The IPLs had sucked my soul this time, if you remember."

"Still, the final India squad is....."

"Your next step in your career. Stop being so good to me, kid. I might start to think you actually like me or something." Shubman did, Ajinkya was one of the only two people he knew he'd have trouble letting go of, but he knew better than to point it out. It was clear Ajinkya wanted the attention off him, so he just went along with the running joke the team had.

"Nah, cap, beware. You don't want to go around spreading rumors about the prodigy, do you?" Abhinav, their other opener, popped up from the back of their seats, leaning forward to ruffle said prodigy's hair. Shubman wouldn't tolerate the skin ship normally, but he felt their win was enough for him to cut them all some slack.

They meant well, after all.

Usually.

---

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

Here, meant the bar they'd taken hostage for the past innumerable hours they'd been there. And the person he was asking this question was his roommate, and, um, rival prodigy, Ishan Kishan.

Oh, and the said roommate was drunk.

Shubman, at this point, just wanted a comfortable bed to sleep in; the exhaustion of the match and then the celebration finally catching up to him. So he'd spent the last hour or so to find the perfect lull in the conversation to escape, which just happened to be at the same time when he finally noticed the drunken state of his roommate. The entire time they'd been here, Ishan had just been a flash of light, too fast and dynamic for Shubman to keep track of.

He'd spent the entirety of his time here mingling with the guys with a surprisingly funny Ajinkya stuck to his side all night long. They were the only ones in the crowd who weren't fans of the hard liquor being passed around and had decided to stick to plain old beer for their sake. A decision which had made them nearly get outcast by the rest. They'd only had the celebratory shots earlier in the evening when everybody was compelled to do so in the spirit of camaraderie.

Due to the lack of (much) alcohol in his system, he knew he could escape unseen because his partner for the night had done the same just half an hour ago, urging him to come along as well. But Shubman had been captive of his roommate's words at that time (words he had suffered immensely to comprehend) and couldn't make his escape smoothly.

Similar things were happening now as again, he'd found the perfect time to escape the gathering and just sleep the exhaustion out, but the barely alive state of Ishan made him pause.

"Hey." He tapped the dead's cheek a couple times; kneeling beside the couch Ishan was sprawled out on. "Come on, Kishan, don't sleep on me." He searched for a bottle to sprinkle some water on the dehydrated, found one lying half empty on the table they'd been served dinner on. He uncapped the bottle, taking some water in his palms before sprinkling it softly on Ishan.

The latter just fluttered his eyes once, and then went back to his sweet sleep. Shubman groaned.

Why he was doing this, don't ask him. He had every right to just leave the smaller guy here considering half of their team was deposited either near the bar, the couches like Ishan or the dance floor (where Shubman had sworn not to meander around) and the other half had simply left. He knew if he left the guy here, there were enough members of their team to take him back to the hotel. But....

....Shubman felt like he was responsible for the shorter guy in some way because......

He had...

Ishan had...

....helped him.

Even when he wasn't asked to (the injury and the semi-final match). Even when Shubman didn't know he needed that help (last night, finally helping Shubman to break out of his shell and just enjoy some time with the guys).

Ishan had helped him and called him his friend.

So, it was just pure instinct that didn't let him leave his roommate behind like that. The fact that they had to go to the same destination was also there, of course.

A low groaning sound brought him back from his reverie and Shubman just gave up on being gentle with the Ishan. He began pouring the leftover water in the bottle directly on the latter's face, smirking when the said person jolted awake.

"Glad to see you're still alive."

"Huh? What?" Ishan slurred, trying to shake his head so that he would stop seeing everything times two (as he'd told Shubman earlier anyway) but quickly seemed to realise that this just made things worse for him.

Shubman just chuckled. Now that his companion was awake, "Hey, guys," he hollered. Most of the players were already half dead, so it wasn't hard for Shubman to address the group without feeling nervous. The fact that he was very slightly tipsy helped too. "We're leaving, will text in the group chat if we need any help."

He informed and hoisted Ishan up with an arm around his waist, with the latter's arm around his neck. It was an awkward angle because Shubman felt aware of their height difference now more than ever. He silently marveled how easy it was dragging the entirety of the five feet six of his roommate without breaking a sweat, really.

Now, Shubman wasn't a drinker, not really. He was only nineteen, so it'd been a given for his team members to assume that he hadn't had a lot of experience in that field. Except, that he had. He was a Punjabi, for crying out loud. Alcohol and parties ran within his blood so really, whatever restriction he had imposed on himself tonight for only having beer had been after the celebratory shots they had in the beginning. Those shots plus the beer were now catching up to him, and added with the dead weight on his side, Shubman could feel his legs wobble a little as they rode the elevator to the ground floor.

Ishan's head had lolled back from his neck in the meantime, and Shubman could see rather than hear the gibberish the shorter male was muttering. He huffed, using his unoccupied hand to, first, direct Ishan's head back on his shoulder and second, to open the door. The gust of chilly wind that made him shiver slightly reminded him that they were in Delhi and winters were approaching.

Ishan, feeling the cold too, tried to bury himself into Shubman by leaning more on the said male. Shubman knew he shouldn't encourage this behavior, he hated skin ship for a reason but his own tiredness was making his decision making sluggish, so he just ignored the weight practically falling on him and opened his phone to book a cab back to their hotel.

A hand suddenly caught the sleeve of his full jersey, effectively stopping him from booking the cab as he directed his attention to the guy next to him. "Don't...don't wanna....."

"Come on, Kishan, I can't hear you if you speak so low." He nudged the male a bit before sighing and bending down to hear his voice more clearly.

"Wanna.... go b--" a hiccup "--ack."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm calling a cab for that. If you'd just let me do that peacefully......" He muttered the last part before resuming the booking.

Another sharp tug, this time stronger, at his sleeve made him almost drop the phone and okay, Shubman was annoyed now.

"What do you want?" He snapped, adjusting his hold on the guy's waist before leaning down to listen again.

"Don't wanna.....don't wanna go back.....yet."

"Come on now Ishan, I'm tired and you're barely alive. Where do you think you can go in this state?"

"...don't know.....just.....don't go....back yet...."

"You're saying nonsensical things now. Great."

The guy pouted, ".....make...sense...still....don't wanna go yet.....please..."

Shubman hesitated. Ishan was practically pleading him at this point. He felt weird, adjusting his hold on the guy again as he pondered over their next or last destination. It was past two in the morning, just where the hell was this guy thinking of going anyway?

"I don't know, Ishan. You're in no position to walk without my support right now and I'm tired--!"

Suddenly, the guy straightened up and stepped away from him, making Shubman lose his hold on him as he watched the shorter guy walk straight (almost as much he could manage anyway) to the reception of the building they'd just left and ask for and actually drink two bottles of water without stopping for a second. Shubman was stunned to say the least. Where had this energy boost come from?

The guy that walked out had much better motor functions, for sure. Shubman could really see the effect alcohol had on Ishan. His face and neck were slightly pink from the liquor, hair sticking up on his forehead due to the sweat, gait wobbly and unstable. His smile, though, as Shubman noticed in slight awe, was as unbridled as it could be. Ishan was a smiley person, so it wasn't exactly a shock to see him smiling right then too, but something about that particular smile took Shubman's breath away for a moment.

"I am better now, Gill. Come on, let's go somewhere?" The guy whined, when he could finally see things as they were (and not double), not needing Shubman to support him anymore. "I don't wanna go back to the hotel room yet. Please!" He pleaded.

Shubman had bone-deep exhaustion. He also had thoughts waiting for him about his less than average performance and he knew what he'd choose if he were given an option but--

"Don't think about it too much, Shubman." Ishan whispered, suddenly invading Shubman's personal space to do so. He tilted his head up to look him in the eye before continuing, "I'll be gone from your life tomorrow. I think I have done enough for you to get at least this night together, if I asked. Don't you think so too, master?" He pouted again, "And I am, by the way, asking."

He knew what he'd choose if he were given a choice but, as Shubman smiled over at Ishan, a small, barely there thing which conveyed everything they needed to know at that moment and met his roommate's eyes, he knew there was never a choice for him to begin with.

"You know I'm not allowed to say no if you flex your influence on me, right?"

Ishan responded with a cheeky smile of his own and within a second, fingers latched onto his wrist as Ishan pulled him in tow. Without any idea of where he was headed or what ideas his roommate had in mind, Shubman freely allowed himself to follow. He'd never ventured out in the late hours of the night with nothing but the neon lights to guide him. It was a euphoric rush, adrenaline pumping through his veins as Ishan was nearly running in a full sprint towards an unknown place, plans completely up in the air. Any previous traces of fatigue setting in seemed to drift away instantly as soon as Ishan took him on this wild ride.

And when the shorter male glanced back at him, cheeks tinted a pinkish red from their running and alcohol and his eyes deeply filled with passion, Shubman never felt more alive than he did in this exact moment.

---

Notes:

so, there's something all the readers need to know. i completed writing the deodhar trophy arc around the same time i posted the intro & inspiration chapter. but after that, i seemingly went into this writer's block and couldn't understand how i wanted to move the story forward. right now, i have three different prospects of how i want to continue the story but i just can't decide. so i'm writing this a/n to tell all the readers that after this part, there's another chapter which i'll post soon after editing. but after that, the updates may take time because i have to write the next arc fully before posting it in parts (like i did with this arc). so y'all, please be patient w me, and i promise to write an arc as good as this one again very soon!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 7: day 5 (part II)

Ishan suddenly stopped in his tracks, the fingers holding onto his wrist slowly leaving him from their hold. Despite not chasing after Ishan for too long throughout the rapid city blocks that blurred past his vision, Shubman's chest heaved out shaky breaths in order to bring himself back to his senses. The adrenaline from their sudden actions slowly wore down, his pounding heartbeat growing less painful as it settled back in his chest. The wrist he withdrew from Ishan's fingers was still warm. Cold air finally hit his sensitive skin, sending a shudder throughout his body. Before Shubman could even ask him why he had paused, Ishan started laughing to himself amusedly.

The soft chuckles that escaped past Ishan's lips were slightly melodic to his ears. "Sorry, I have no destination actually." He admitted, his fingers rising up to attempt to hide some of his bright grin as well as his reddened cheeks from their running session before. "I just didn't want tonight to end yet."

Shubman's head tipped to the side as his eyes examined the other male closely, biting back a smile of his own. "You know, technically, you've kidnapped me, right?"

"I know." Ishan beamed, pausing momentarily to take deeper breaths in order to relax himself. "But didn't you think it was fun?"

Shubman just shook his head, the smile he'd been hiding finally breaking through.

"So.... we're out here. What's next?" As his eyes glanced around at whatever part of the city they had ventured into, he was unable to recognize any of the neon signs that were still turned on during the quiet hours of the night. Other than maybe a single convenience store being open, it just looked like a bunch of closed restaurants and office buildings in the area.

"I don't.... exactly know." Ishan admitted hesitantly, head tipping to the side as his eyes surveyed the area. "We could keep walking until we find a metro station and then figure out where we are."

"The metro doesn't run until 5:30am..."

Ishan shrugged carelessly. "Not a problem. That leaves us with about..... three hours or so? Then my dreams of pulling an all-nighter will finally be complete."

Shubman shoved his hands into his track pants pockets, now feeling the cold air starting to bother him. "Couldn't we have pulled an all-nighter back at the room?"

"Nah, it's not the same." Stubbornly shaking his head, Ishan pulled out his phone and started going through Google Maps. "It's kind of special to spend it outside, isn't it?"

Shubman didn't exactly understand what was so amazing about wandering around at night until sunrise. After all, they were in Delhi for fuck's sake. Nothing about this city even whispered safe to Shubman. But he knew if he even tried to convince his roommate to go back early, he'd probably be bitched at for the whole ride back about being some kind of scaredy cat.

"I'll get us some hot coffees; you decide where we're going next." Shubman gave in, spinning on his heel and turning into the nearest 24-hour convenience store. Ishan called out that he preferred hot chocolate instead, which Shubman would certainly have to treat him to.

After a while of trying to understand exactly where the woman in Google Maps was trying to send them, they gave up on her before moving silently to the park they spotted a few meters in front of them. Their feet moved without much of a plan, just wandering through the pre-marked paths that wound into the park.

Somehow, they had ended up stumbling on a children's playground complex, in which Ishan took the lead in scaling up the structure and taking a seat on the tallest platform. Shubman joined him without questioning, positioning himself beside the entrance to the slide, relying on the tube to block some of the wind from his body. "Well, this does feel somewhat safer. I don't think anyone could even see us up here."

"We're like little kids that ran away or something." Ishan replied with a small chuckle, leaning back so that he was fully sprawled out over the metal platform. "How are you holding up? Sleepy yet?"

"Slightly, but once I finish the coffee, I'll feel better." He smirked in Ishan's direction, tipping his head back as he took a long sip. "You got me to come all the way out here, so don't think I'm gonna give up on you anytime soon."

"You're still competitive at this hour."

"What can I say, I'm a Punjabi through and through."

Ishan glanced up at him this time, a soft smile tugging his lips. "That you are." He said and Shubman felt that maybe, jokes aside, he really was.

They remained silent for a while, and Shubman marveled the city lights from his perch on top of the swing, the view taking his breath away.

"Say, Gill," Ishan's soft voice startled him. "Why don't we play a game?"

"Hm, which one?"

Ishan's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said in a dramatic whisper, "Twenty questions."

Shubman made a face. "What are we, on a date? Come on, we can play something else."

Ishan pouted, "But I wanna play this game only." He sat up near Shubman's feet, hands tugging his pants insistently. "Please, Gill, let's play this game, please." He whined and with a sigh, Shubman gave in, sliding down the tube to sit face to face with a grinning Ishan.

"Fine, let's play twenty questions. But I get to ask the first question."

"As you wish, master."

Shubman resisted the urge to whack him across the head. "Hm, favorite color?"

Ishan booed. "Boring. Brown. Moving on, my turn. Why did you start playing cricket?"

That was a....loaded question and Shubman contemplated on whether to give the heavier answer or not.

"There's not a lot there, to be honest. My father always had a passion for cricket but couldn't pursue it for farming. When he saw I could hold a bat before even learning to walk, he knew I had potential. That's it, really. After that we moved to Mohali, I joined PCA and here I am now."

"Here you are now." Ishan repeated, looking up at him softly. "What does your father think of you now?"

"Isn't it my turn now?"

Ishan groaned. Shubman laughed. "Why did you want to know this?"

"I've always liked hearing the circumstances and motivations that led people around me to this game. It gives me a sense of connection to them, makes me understand them better to know what they've been through. It, in turn, helps me, if that makes sense."

It didn't, not to Shubman but he knew with the bright-eyed look Ishan had that their personalities were too different for him to understand anyway. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the mind-set still.

"My turn again. Now tell me, what does your father think of you now?

This question made him smile. "He thinks the world of me for playing the tournaments I'm playing. Says that every time I play, he can see himself on that field, scoring like I do and making his parents proud like I make them proud. The day I made my list-A debut, he literally went around giving sweets to all our farming and household staff and my coach back home." He chuckled, as the joyous face of his father threatened to clog his throat. "I was talking to him after our win today. You know what he said to me? 'You have made me so proud today, Shub. This is the best gift you could give to your old man, my boy.'" He laughed again, but he knew melancholy bled through his laugh.

A hand squeezed his knee, and he looked up to see Ishan looking at him compassionately. "I'm proud of you too, Shubman."

Shubman smiled uncertainly, "Thank you." He cleared his throat and then, "My turn. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Ishan barked out a laugh. "No. What about my complete dedication to cricket made you ask that?"

Shubman shrugged. "At least I'm asking you questions people usually ask their first time around in these games. Unlike you, I don't like deep questions."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?"

"Aren't team members supposed to care about each other?"

Shubman sighed; he knew how much team bonding mattered for Ishan. "No reason, just...." He squirmed, "there's no need for me to know so deeply about you, you know. It's not like we're gonna be a team long enough for us to wonder about each other's personal lives."

That bit was true. Every tournament a junior cricketer played until they were chosen to be in the Team India squad, had different teams, divided on the basis of states, performances, bidding, and stuff like that. Shubman hadn't really had a consistent team till now, and he knew that because his hustling days were far from over, getting attached to a team member only to play against them in some other tournament was like digging their own grave. So, Ishan's logic didn't really make sense to him.

"That's...." Ishan trailed off.

"That's?" Shubman prompted.

"That's so impersonal." He cracked a small, uncertain smile. "Like, who hurt you, Gill?"

"You've already used up your turn, so I don't have any obligation to answer that." Ishan pouted, so he continued, "But, like I told you earlier, all my previous team members cared only as far as the match was concerned. Whatever happens outside of it is no one's business. So, after a while, I realized I don't have to worry about anyone else's personal life too."

Ishan looked up at him disapprovingly. "But that doesn't really count as sportsmanship, does it?"

"Again, you've used up your chance but to answer your question, firstly, if we're not gonna be together in the same team for the next match anyway, what could you possibly do with the 'sportsmanship' for just one tournament? And secondly, even if a person does trust you enough to make this grave mistake, don't you think you'll have an upper hand against them the next time you play against each other? It's literally digging up your own grave. Why would I want to do that if I haven't even secured a place for my grave yet?"

Ishan bristled. Clearly, Shubman was missing something here because he knew his logic was sound. "Do you really think not knowing about your life outside of this tournament is good for the team? Our expectations from you?"

"Yes, of course." Shubman looked at him incredulously. "I literally won Man of the Match with a sprain on my ankle without anyone on the team knowing. How do you think that happened from your logic then?"

"Not without anyone knowing. Cap and I knew."

"Yes, but only the two of you knew. I didn't have to shout it for the whole team to perform better, right? That's my point."

"The fact that the better half of your energy didn't go wasted in trying to hide the injury from all the members because the two of us knew is my point, Gill."

Shubman still didn't understand, but he also didn't want to continue arguing with Ishan.

"Fine, okay, you win. Whatever. Can we please move on?"

Ishan opened his mouth, to probably curse him out for taking their serious talk so lightly but seemed to think better of it before closing his mouth again. Shubman clapped in victory.

"Okay, my turn. Favorite food?"

"Paneer Tikka. Why do you insist on everyone calling you Gill?"

"Because that's part of my name?" When Ishan just raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed. "I like to differentiate between my personal and professional life. My family and friends back home call me Shubman or Shub, so I want everyone else to call me Gill. Plus, it's easier to say than Shubman, anyway."

"Ooh, nice logic. I can't do that though."

"Why?"

"My name's pretty much the same length of my surname. Plus, it doesn't really matter to me. Can I call you Shubman?"

Shubman deflected, "Wasn't it my turn to ask?"

Ishan gave a stubborn shake of head, "You used your chance just now. Come on, tell me, can I call you Shubman?"

Shubman deflected again, "Why do you want to?"

"Simple, I like to keep some kind of tokens from the people I play with every tournament. Cap gave me his cap from his second list-A century, Suresh bhai gave me the pair of socks he wore for his first list-A century" he scrunched up his nose, "unwashed but whatever." Shubman grimaced, Ishan nodded. "So yeah, this is what I want from you. You can call me Ishan too, if you like."

Shubman considered it. It wasn't as odd a request as he'd believed earlier. If everyone was granting such important things to Ishan without much fight, then he supposed he could do this for him too. After all, God knew how much Ishan had done for him in the past four days anyway.

But, he thought, this rule he'd made, of everyone calling him Gill outside of family, had been for the reason he'd told Ishan, sure but also because it helped him remember he didn't have any real friends in the league yet. The ones he did, like Anmolpreet, also called him Gill so it wasn't anything special. To let Ishan call him Shubman and break this rule meant..... He gazed at the guy in front of him for some time, the said guy not even fazed by the fact that it was taking him this long to come to a decision. He gazed at him and realized with a start that he trusted Ishan. In this short span of the four, almost five days they'd been in each other's vicinity, Shubman had started trusting Ishan and he knew that, if Ishan asked, he'd agree to be his friend too. Outside of the tournament, even if they weren't on the same team.

The realization was a startling one, something that Shubman's half tipsy mind couldn't comprehend completely just yet.

For now, though, he knew what his answer to Ishan's request was.

---

"Shubman," Ishan's muffled voice reached his ears. "You know I won't ever judge you, right?"

Somehow, as the hours had passed, with the morning becoming colder and colder, they'd shuffled closer to each other to get body warmth. They had their backs against the tube Shubman had taken to standing earlier when they'd arrived, sides pressed against each other's. Sometime in the night they'd fallen asleep, and when Shubman woke up due to a particularly cold wind, he realized that Ishan had his face buried in Shubman's shoulder. The only plausible argument he'd gotten from the other had been something about their heights being perfect for him to take support against Shubman. He hadn't really objected, what with being half asleep made his senses not work properly.

Now, as they watched a warm glow spread out in the previously night sky, he felt that this much contact was okay. He found that he didn't really feel sensitive about his side being pressed completely against Ishan, whose head was still resting against his shoulder, even after it'd been a while since they woke up. It was around 5:30 am now, and they'd promised to leave after watching the beautiful sunrise.

"Hey, Shubman," Ishan nudged him, "Did you hear me?"

"Hm? No?"

Ishan nudged him again, though a bit more sharply with his elbow, making him cough a few times, before returning to their maximum body heat positions, pressed up next to each other. A head fell on his shoulder again. Shubman sighed.

"You know I won't ever judge you, right?" Ishan repeated.

This was sudden. "I'm sorry?"

Ishan just shrugged, "If you ever feel uncomfortable from something I do, don't hesitate to tell me off. I won't judge you."

"Uh, okay?"

"No, you have to believe me. Say you believe me."

".... what is wrong with you?" Shubman asked, albeit a bit fondly as he tried to catch the other male's eye.

"You have friends in the league, right? People you've often played with ever since your list-A debut?"

Shubman suddenly felt a bit defensive. "Of course I have, everyone does."

Ishan finally glanced up at him, smile a bit rueful, "No, Shubman, not everyone does." He shook it off before continuing, "Yeah, so, you have friends in the league that you talk to on and off the field, right? You obviously talk to them after the tournament ends too. That's literally what I meant by sportsmanship earlier, caring and talking to each other without the pretense of a tournament."

Shubman wanted to correct him because really, the chances of Ishan having such friends and sportsmanship in the league were higher than his. He wanted to correct that Shubman didn't really get what Ishan's point was still because he never had friends like this in the league. He wanted to correct him but....but he realized in that moment suddenly, that he really was a child till now. He was a kid because he'd just admitted to having friends who talked to him off the tournament when the number of such friends was uncountable, or zero, at best. He had friends like Anmolpreet in the league, friends who reminded him of all the things he hadn't achieved yet. Friends who he had played with ever since he started playing professional cricket, and still knew nothing about their personal lives. He didn't have friends like Ishan was talking about but God, did he think it'd be nice to have some.

And he knew, deep down, the realization from earlier making its way back in his mind, that if Ishan asked, he'd become that kind of friends with him. Because Shubman trusted Ishan. But Shubman also knew that he'd only do that if Ishan asked. He knew he didn't have the courage to ask the older because what if Ishan already had his share of friends and didn't need any new ones? Just because Shubman trusted Ishan didn't mean the latter had to do the same.

"I..." He didn't want to admit it; he could feel his ego causing physical pain in the heart. But one look at Ishan and he knew he couldn't lie. "I don't have that kind of friends in the league." He muttered, looking resolutely at the sunrise in front of him and not at the guy beside him when he let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Hey, Shubman, look at me," When he refused, he felt fingers barely there on his chin, making him turn his head towards the other male. "Look at me, damnit."

"What?" he asked gruffly, "I don't wanna miss the sunrise." He said pointedly.

Ishan glared at him, "I don't care about the sunrise. You, mister, need a friend in the league. And that's final."

"No, I absolutely don't, I've been fine by myself so far--"

"No can do, Shubman. Start listing out the guys you think you're compatible with on the field." When Shubman kept his mouth shut, he was subjected to another one of Ishan's glares. "Now."

He sighed, looking back at the sunrise, which had already begun. He'd miss the beginning of it thanks to the shorter guy next to him. "I don't know.... Anmolpreet? I've been playing with him ever since I started out. Navdeep? I haven't really played with him a lot, but he has always been on my team in most of the tournaments I've played." He thought some more, searching for the names he could blurt out before the inevitable name would come. God, he was pathetic. "Ajinkya? Suresh bhai? I feel like I became close with them both over this tournament. Ajinkya, especially."

Ishan laid his head back on his shoulder and began noting down the names he said on a fucking list in the phone he'd miraculously produced again. "Hm, good start. Who else?"

Shubman wanted to scream YOU! but he wasn't ready to face the rejection yet. "I don't know, Ishan. There were some other guys I had a close friendship with earlier, but they've quit playing. So, that's all I have for now."

Ishan hummed, deep in thought, before he asked quietly, "What about me?"

Shubman prayed to all the heavens above that his reaction to the sudden question went unnoticed by Ishan. "What about you?"

"Why am I not on the list, Shubman?" His voice became quieter with each syllable. "Haven't you become close with me too over the days?"

Shubman laughed, trying to cover up his nervousness. "I'm not really sure Ishan, I've always been close with my roommates over the years. It's kind of a given for how we have to share our space for a few days with new people, no?"

Ishan just hummed again, and stayed quiet, and then, "I think... I've narrowed it down to one person."

Shubman clicked his tongue, waving a hand for him to go ahead.

"Ajinkya, I think. I saw you guys talking during and after the matches. And you seemed chill enough with him to tell him about the injury obviously because he told me after that. And you let him call you....."He hesitated.

Shubman just nudged him to continue.

"....you let him call you kid. That requires trust, I guess. So yeah, it's Ajinkya. Make him your friend before you leave, okay?" Ishan didn't really prompt him for a reply.

The sun was completely out now, and Shubman could feel some of the coldness seep away from his bones. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Quarter to six." Suddenly, Ishan was getting up, dusting his pants as he said, "Come on, man. Let's go back. The sun is up now, and I have a morning bus to catch. I haven't even started packing yet and---"He went on and on about the things he needed to do but Shubman wasn't listening anymore.

Shubman had thought he could leave it. He really had thought that he would be fine with just waiting for Ishan to ask him to be his friend, to meet up with him after or in between tournaments even if they weren't really on the same team. He thought that even if Ishan wouldn't ask him, he'd be fine because he had been fine, until Ishan had come along. He had been fine without a friend in the league, a friend to worry about his personal and professional life. A friend who wasn't his rival but a healthy competition for him to grow. A friend whom he trusted. A friend like....A friend like....

"Ishan." Shubman stopped him, a hand on his wrist when he made a move to descent the platform they were on. When worried eyes glanced down at him, he felt nervous. "Would you...."

He tried again, "Would you...." He hesitated again, before taking a deep breath and standing up, all the while not letting go of Ishan's wrist. It would have been funny the way Ishan's eye level changed as he stood up, now having to tilt his head up to look at Shubman, had he not been this nervous.

"Wouldyoubemyfriend?" He said in a rush and closed his eyes, hand gripping the wrist tightly as he refused to let the other leave without an answer.

A beat of silence, another, and another, and then, "What?"

He opened his eyes a bit to see Ishan genuinely confused about what he'd said and he cursed his nervousness for messing up his first chance. "I asked, Would. You. Be. My. Friend?"

Another beat of silence and then..... laughter.

Ishan was laughing at him. Oh God, kill him now.

He released his grip on the wrist roughly and began climbing down from the platform ignoring all calls of his name from the shorter guy. Shubman was angry now. Rightfully so. He'd spent so much of his energy and courage to ask Ishan that and he was laughing at him? Shubman felt misplaced from reality for a second there. Fuck him, really. It's not like Shubman couldn't do without a friend, he had been just peachy before this tournament and really, it was Ishan's fault for messing up his thoughts like this. He cursed his subconscious for not listening to his rational about not asking Ishan to be his friend and--

"Hey! Shubman, wait! You're a giant, man, I can't keep up with you!" he heard from a distance as he continued speed walking out of the park with all his might.

Fuck Ishan. Fuck his short height and cute build and long hair. Fuck his friends for all agenda. Fuck team bonding. Fuck sportsmanship. Fuck--

"Fuck!" He exclaimed as Ishan all but barreled into him from behind, Shubman's core strength being the only reason they didn't fall straight onto the ground. He whirled around unstably to face the said nuisance.

"What is wrong with you--?!"

"I'll be your friend!" Ishan cut him off. "You asked and I'm saying yes, and let's be friends, Shubman."

Shubman scowled. "Fuck off. I don't need you. Consider my offer revoked or something. I don't care."

"Oh come on," Ishan groaned. "I'm sorry for laughing. You just looked really funny being all nervous as if you were asking me to marry you, for fuck's sake." He whined, tugging at Shubman's sleeve like a child now. "Please, forgive me, Shubman. Please. Please! Please!!" He was going into the full doe-eyed look and okay, Shubman needed to get a grip.

"Okay, okay fine. You're like a pest sometimes."

"Yet, you asked me to be your friend, ha!"

"A choice I regretted the second after I asked you."

Ishan went quiet as they started walking towards the nearest metro station now.

"Do you really regret it?" He asked, voice barely audible above Shubman's own pounding heart.

He paused and glanced at his side to see Ishan walking with his head down, expression sad. Shubman didn't like it one bit. Looks like his first task as Ishan's friend was already here.

He made Ishan stop, face him and look him in the eye before saying, "Nah, idiot. I wouldn't have been here if I really regretted it now, would I?"

He knew his eyes were sincere as Ishan searched them for any trace of mischief. When he found none, a beautiful smile bloomed on his face and if Shubman had been angry at him for making him miss the beginnings of today's sunrise, he knew he'd have forgiven Ishan at that instant because the smile more than made up for it.

It was like watching his own private sunrise and Shubman knew he'd cherish it forever.

---

Ishan hadn't been lying about having a morning bus.

Both of them had been pretty tired by the time they'd reached their hotel room and had passed out without a word. Shubman knew he had enough time to complete his sleep and pack before his bus because he'd deliberately booked an evening one. Ishan had been whining about the lack of equality in their resting period, had almost eaten Shubman's ears off before Shubman had simply reminded him that it had been his idea to pull an all-nighter out in the cold.

("Well, you can't blame me for wanting to fulfil my dreams! I'm only twenty once!"

"And you're only catching that bus once too so you better go to sleep now."

Ishan just went, "hmph!" and Shubman heard soft snores a second later. They'd been that tired. )

Shubman was sure it'd been a minute or so since he'd fallen asleep when he felt someone ruffle his hair. He groaned, turning away from the intruder, fisting and wrapping his comforter closer to him.

(He thought he was dreaming when he heard a familiar, melodic laugh and then, "I'm leaving, Shubman. There's a note on the nightstand for you. Stay in touch, bye!" There was a pause before suddenly the intruder's very familiar voice was very close to his ear, "Thank you.")

---

When he finally woke up, he immediately grabbed his phone from the nightstand where it had been charging and saw the time. 13:12 pm. His sluggish brain seemed to register the time and the fact that Ishan bus was at 9:00 am and--wait what?!

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He exclaimed as he rushed to free himself from the tangle of sheets he'd been in, finally noticing the quietness of the room. He also noticed the lack of mess in the room because Ishan had finally picked up his shit from the random places it was scattered in and left.

Fuck, why hadn't he woken him up? Shubman could've seen him off, for heaven's sake. He grabbed his phone again to demand answers when he realised he didn't have Ishan's number yet.

He groaned. They had agreed to exchange numbers sometime during their conversations in the metro but Shubman's phone had gotten discharged so he couldn't take Ishan's numbers then. When he asked the older to just save his and text him for reference, Ishan just went, "Like hell I'll let you leave me hanging like that, Shubman. You asked me to be your friend, so you text me first, okay?"

Why were they so stubborn?

Shubman, finally reaching the conclusion that he had no means of contacting Ishan and demanding answers now, sat back on his bed. This was when he noticed a very familiar candy kept on what seemed like a note from the same notepad he'd used about four days ago. To write a welcome note for Ishan.

He quickly scrambled to pick up the note, skimming through the contents before finally finding his lost connection to Ishan at the end. A phone number.

Hey,
I'm writing this literally as I watch you snore as if it's no one's business. Has anyone ever told you that sleep you like the dead?
Whatever. But because I can see that you have no intentions of seeing me off, here's my gift to you. How ironic, right? You give me a welcome note; I leave you with a farewell one.
But it's not really a farewell if I'm leaving you with a link, is it?
Here, don't sulk; I said I wouldn't text you first. Didn't mean I couldn't give you my phone number though.
+91 *** *** **** there you go.
Text me when you wake up, okay?

P.S. This candy's my last one from the summer. Hope we continue getting along well.
-I

Shubman was smiling by the time he saved the number mentioned. Fuck that guy for leaving without telling him first, but at least he got a candy as compensation.

He opened a new message thread with the contact he'd just saved, genuine happiness flowing through him as he sent the first message.

October 28, 2018

You 13:30

It's my favorite too, you know

Travel-sized friend 13:31

;) I know

---

Notes:

and that's the end of our first arc you guys!!!
the deodhar trophy arc ends here, our cuties have met and become friends now!!!!! YAYAYAAYYA
i would like to take a moment and thank everyone for giving this story their time and specially the people who've shared their thoughts on this through comments!! Y'all are special to me, your time and efforts mean everything!
also, i have some good news. i've successfully started writing the next arc. it's longer than this one, so please wait for it patiently and i'll start posting it as soon as i'm done!!
till then, thanks for reading!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 8: interlude

I'm just here to tell everyone that I just posted a new story on ao3 so please check it out if it's something you like. 

Name: love is something I deserve (but you, I deserve more)

Pairing: Shinchan Nohara x Kazama Toru (aged up obv)

Summary: 

Kazama just wants Shinchan to take life seriously.
Shinchan just wants Kazama to take him seriously.
It's really that simple, or is it?

Do check it out if you can, it would mean the world to me! Thank you!

love, lavanya <3

 

Chapter 9: match 0, day 1

Notes:

And I'm back you guys 🥹
I missed writing this pair so much, and now that I'll start posting this new arc, editing the chapter for you guys, I'm gonna be with them again after good while, so enjoy (?)!!!!

August 2019

It was a fairly windy day in August when the news of Shubman being selected as the captain of the India Blue team for the upcoming Duleep Trophy 2019-20 came out.

It had been one of those days when the weather forecasts were repeatedly assuring you that there will be rain (--see those monsoon clouds over there, that's it, that's rain!--) soon, but because it has been so long, you can't help but think that this soon isn't coming soon enough. And when nature decides to send winds in compensation for the unbearable humidity, even though you know it will reduce the chances of your most-awaited rain, you can't help but appreciate the small mercies of life.

Shubman's thoughts on the captaincy were somewhat in a similar direction.

He had wanted to play in the upcoming India tour of WI with the final squad and this was scheduled to begin in early August. Everybody had been talking about it, and everybody had been fairly certain that Shubman would make it. This was Shubman's rain, something he had wanted ever since making his ICT squad debut in January this year and the chances of the same had been good, just like the monsoon clouds in the sky. Only, nature didn't want rain to come for Shubman.

When he had been in the Caribbean, playing an okay-ish series with the India-A squad against WI-A team, the final Indian Cricket Team squad was announced, and Shubman hadn't been included. This had been in July, and Shubman didn't, or rather couldn't, think much of it anyway because he had a series to finish. And the day this series got over, his captaincy in the upcoming domestic tournament was announced; cementing the fact that he wouldn't be able to play with the ICT squad again (at least for now). This was Shubman's wind, something he knew was nothing more than a compensation for the lack of rain, but the title made Shubman feel good too.

Small mercies of life indeed, he mused, as he walked down the ridiculously long hallway towards the meeting room in the hotel they were staying at for this tournament. It was a captains and coaches only meet, and Shubman was already late. It wasn't actually his fault though, for his flight had been delayed (by only twenty minutes, but still). He had expected the delay-- because of the irregular weather back in Punjab-- and had texted his coach the same but what he hadn't expected or rather, what he had forgotten about, was that he was going to Bengaluru. And the traffic here was just terrific, note the sarcasm.

He sighed through his nose, pushed back the hair on his forehead, and tried to walk faster. Two minutes later, he was barging into a room (not without knocking, he wasn't a juvenile) filled with what looked like two other players and their respective coaches, sitting around a round table. He dutifully made his way to the empty chair next to his team's coach and apologized profusely for the delay. The people in the room just waved him off and began the meeting.

While this was Shubman's first time in a captains' meet, he was no stranger to the things to be discussed during the two hours they were meant to be here. The details of the tournament, their respective team staffs, members and coaches, the schedule to be followed, the venues they would be playing at and other stuff like that. (He'd contacted a barely awake Ajinkya before his flight to get a debrief on this stuff and his (ex) cap hadn't disappointed.)

When the introductions began, Shubman insisted that his coach should go first, for that meant Shubman would either go second or last.

Naturally, he wanted to go last.

Given the very obvious fact that he was the youngest guy in the room, he knew better than to stand out just yet. He felt a stare on him and looked up just in time to see a guy, much older than him, staring and smirking as if he knew exactly what was going on in Shubman's mind. It made him feel unsettled for a second there.

Ignoring the weird gaze, he quickly perked up when his coach finished and gestured to the older man on the other side of his coach to go. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, the India Green coach, as Shubman later got to know, introduced himself and Shubman sighed in relief. He would now be the one to end the introductions.

Crisis successfully averted.

Shubman had been partially lost in thought and partially in worry of how his introduction would go when he heard "--captain India Red team, batsman. Hope we all get along well." India Red.

His attention snapped back in the room, and he realized that it was the smug guy from before who had just introduced himself. This meant he was Faiz Fazal. Captain of the India Red team, aka a certain someone's team whose texts were burning a hole in Shubman's pocket through his phone. He winced and cursed mentally, having completely forgotten to text the other back in the haste of getting to the meeting quickly. Shubman wished he could live long enough to see the end of this.

Knowing Ishan though, it was a tough call.

"Earth to Gill! Gill? Gill!"

He startled as he heard his coach call out his name a couple times. He blinked at the people around him owlishly, trying to understand the sudden interruption of his (deadly) thoughts. The moment he came out of his reverie, Shubman realized that the entire table was staring at him, meaning it was his turn to introduce himself. He cursed again, so much for not standing out just yet.

"Hello, everyone," He started politely, "I'm Shubman Gill, captain India Blue team, batsman. It's very nice to meet you all and I hope we get along well."

He was about to sit down again when the smug guy from before (Faiz) suddenly spoke to him, "Aren't you the nation's beloved prodigy, Shubman? You were quite out there in the media recently, if I recall correctly."

Shubman bristled slightly. Prodigy was okay, he was used to it. But the implication of the last sentence and the Shubman just rubbed him the wrong way. "I wouldn't go as far as to say that I'm the nation's beloved, but sure, being a prodigy I could accept. Thank you for the compliment. Also, it's Gill, for you."

He completely ignored the last part about the media and sat down on his chair again. When he looked up, he thought he might see something akin to irritation on the smug guy-- Faiz's face but much to his chagrin all he saw was intrigue and a bit of humor, at that.

It made him even more irritating in Shubman's eyes.

God, he hated older people.

---

They had been in the middle of discussing the schedule for the test matches when suddenly Shubman felt his phone vibrate. He decided to ignore it at first; thanking all the heavens above that he wasn't as dim-witted as his family made him out to be and that he had actually put his phone on vibrate before the meet. The embarrassment and teasing he would've had to go through had he not done that--

His phone was vibrating again. Great.

As discreetly as (S)hu(b)manly possible, Shubman took out the phone from his pocket, thinking his family might be calling to tell him he forgot to pack his underwear again and tease him mercilessly about it. The thought wasn't an unfounded one, for he had done the exact same thing during his tour to WI recently and had to buy unreasonably overpriced underwear first thing when he landed. He was clumsy, sue him.

But as he checked the caller id under the table and saw Travel-sized friend flashing on the screen, he felt equal amounts of relief and irritation spread through him. Relief because he wasn't getting a lecture from his father again about the importance of money and underwear, but irritation because he'd told Ishan that he would be in a meeting the moment he landed, so the most he could offer the smaller guy was a text of affirmation that his flight had been safe (which he conveniently forgotten, but still). A call hadn't been on the table, so it got Shubman wondering as to why exactly was Ishan calling him because he was still very much in a meeting and--

"See something important under the table, Gill?" Faiz was saying to him. Fuck, wasn't that just great?

He put his phone on silent before looking up to answer, "Nah, not really." Shubman tilted his head, considering, "Though make sure to check your laces before you walk. Wouldn't want you tripping now, would we?" He snarked and got a nudge to his side from his coach as reprimanding.

Faiz just laughed, unfazed and the meeting continued.

Only, this time, Shubman couldn't wait for it to be over.

---

Let it be known that when Shubman was finally free from the meeting, the first thing he had meant to do was to text back his Travel-sized friend and maybe even give him a call because while the initial irritation over his calls, plural, was justified, Shubman knew Ishan had to have a valid reason for calling him even when Shubman had specifically told him not to. So, being the good friend he was, he practically ran out of the meeting room the minute the discussion concluded, making it just in time to call an elevator to his floor.

He was about to go in, when suddenly, "Gill, get back here, kid! There's something I forgot to tell you!" he heard his coach yell out and groaned silently. Ishan wouldn't let him live this down, he knew that.

Still, duty calls, he thought and trudged his way back to where only his coach and the other two captains where standing. When he neared them, coach smiled as he took a hold of Shubman's shoulder before practically thrusting him onto the older players.

"We organized a dinner for you guys in the restaurant across the street," His coach gushed, seemingly excited on Shubman's part, "Like we do for all tournaments because the captains have to arrive a day earlier than the team. Think of it as compensation." He clapped Shubman's back a couple times before wishing them luck, and left. All that while Shubman could only stare at him incredulously. Such important part of his schedule, and he couldn't even be bothered to give Shubman a heads up?

As if sensing his turmoil, Priyank, the Green team's captain, squeezed his shoulder placatingly before Shubman shrugged him off, and said, "If it makes you feel better, we didn't know about it too."

Shubman scoffed lightly, "You both have been captains for longer than I have. Hell, this is my first time as a domestic team captain, of course you'd know about it from experience."

This time, Faiz piped in. "You're right about that, but this tradition is only for the domestic teams and we--" he gestured to himself and Priyank "-- haven't been domestic team captains for a while now." Priyank nodded and started moving towards the lift lobby (to get it over with sooner, his words, not Shubman's.)

When he still wasn't convinced, Faiz just shrugged, "Believe it or not, Gill, age doesn't really matter when you're captain. It's about time you accept that."

He too moved to follow Priyank's lead then, leaving Shubman to stand and ponder over the sudden seriousness. While he knew Faiz was right (Ajinkya had given him a similar advice earlier), Shubman didn't want to tell him that that wasn't why he was reluctant to go with them.

No matter how sudden the dinner plan was, he knew it wouldn't have really affected him, say, like a year ago, because he didn't have a lot to with the rest of his night. Their teammates were set to arrive tomorrow anyway, so it wasn't like he could hang out with his team tonight. Also, he knew that getting to know the older and more experienced domestic players was good for him so it was a win-win situation really, except...

... Ishan was set to arrive tonight.

This plan was made a while ago when Shubman had first gotten to know he was going to be a captain this specific tournament and that Ishan would also be playing. It had been nine and half months since they last played a tournament together, what with Shubman being too busy with his debut in the ICT squad and various India-A tours and Ishan being busy with finishing the 2018-19 domestic season.

It wasn't like they hadn't met each other in between; they had, but only a total of two and half times.

First had been when Shubman had come back from New Zealand in February and Ishan happened to have a match in the same city for a tournament. Second was when he had been resting back in Punjab and Ishan had a match in Delhi so Shubman flew all the way to spend a day with Ishan before the smaller had to practice and Shubman had some business to attend.

The half time had been when Shubman had deliberately asked for a layover in Patna in June because he knew Ishan was resting back home. They spent two hours together this way before Shubman had to board his connecting flight. (Ishan still thinks that it had been a "crazy coincidence" and Shubman lets him.)

So yeah, they hadn't met each other a lot these past nine months and even from when they couldn't meet, Shubman's online contact with Ishan was limited.

It hadn't always been like that, though. Shubman vividly remembered the fervent way they used to text each other in the beginning after exchanging numbers, just after the finals. Ishan had this weird habit of sending him a happy month message on the first of whatever month was starting, something Shubman had tried and failed not to find adorable.

But over the course of a few weeks, because of their equally taxing schedules and careers, the message thread became less and less frequent. Their chats were, now, always brief and to the point: Did you see that movie? Yes. I'm going to Sri Lanka. Ok. Do you want me to bring something? No need. Anything that had to be said in length could be spoken on a call.

Usually, Ishan would call him whenever he received truly good news, gushing over the phone. Like when Shubman got into the ICT for the New Zealand tour; minutes after a simple I got in text, he had promptly received a phone call with Ishan all but screeching at the phone in excitement. At that time, they both had just finished the Ranji Trophy, so they hadn't seen each other for weeks. That phone call had taken hours to end.

Or when it had been Ishan's birthday, and he went on and on about the gift Shubman had couriered him (a keychain as souvenir from Sri Lanka). Shubman had been in WI then, and despite it being truly expensive, they had called each other alternatively to talk for hours again.

This plan, of Ishan arriving earlier than the rest, had been Ishan's idea, for once. Shubman thought just the fact that they could meet each other and play together (even though they were on different teams) was enough for him, but Ishan had insisted that having a night together before the tournament was good. They had a lot to catch up on anyway. Shubman agreed and hence, Ishan's flight had been booked. They (he had forced Ishan to) had also agreed that Shubman would catch a cab to the airport to meet Ishan just as he landed and they would go back together, have dinner somewhere and pull an all-nighter in either of their rooms.

But now, with this captains only dinner, Shubman knew he was in big trouble. He pulled out his phone to call Ishan but one look at the time told him that the smaller guy would be in his flight right then; hence calling him was meaningless. He was about to open their text thread to inform his friend of the sudden plan change except the other two captains chose that exact moment to holler and call him -- "Hey, Gill, you coming or not?" -- from the elevator and Shubman knew he had to go.

Ishan was absolutely going to kill him.

---

"Are you okay?"

Shubman startled, almost dropping his spoon when Faiz suddenly turned his attention to him, breaking the monologue about his life he had indulged Priyank in. A glance around the table showed that the other captain had perhaps left the table for washroom, and Shubman deduced that must be why Faiz was now talking to him.

He wiped his mouth with a tissue and said, "Yeah, I'm cool. What's up?" He wondered what prompted this sudden question from the older guy.

Faiz shrugged, "You've been glancing at the clock quite dedicatedly for the past hour. Do you have somewhere to be?"

Shubman winced, expression sheepish as Priyank made his way back to their table.

He thought he had been very subtle about the, uh, glancing at the clock thing, all because he had enough table manners to not do that on his phone on the table. He'd been listening and contributing to the conversations around him only partially for half of his attention had been on the clock above their heads to see when he had to leave, in order to get to the airport on time. His reasoning was simple: At least not making Ishan wait might soften the rants he knew he would receive from for not texting or calling him back.

Still, he felt a bit guilty for partially ignoring his current company, and after Faiz started his monologue from exactly where he had left off earlier, Shubman paid more attention on him than the clock, albeit a bit reluctantly. Live in the present, isn't that what they all say anyway?

Another hour or so passed, with him trying and failing to contribute significantly in the conversations around him again (he had convinced the other two captains that he really wasn't much of a talker, that bit was true), before Shubman felt his phone vibrate against his pocket and this time, he took it out in a flash forgetting all table manners for a moment, thinking Ishan had called to let him know he'd landed, only to realize that it was the alarm he had set yesterday, for not forgetting to pick Ishan up.

He sighed disappointedly before his mind registered the fact that the alarm meant he had about half an hour to get to the airport on time before Ishan landed. It was late now, and he knew the traffic at this time wouldn't be forgiving at all.

"Hey, guys," he interrupted whatever conversation they were having; reasoning: he had to leave ASAP.

"I, uh, need to leave, kind of." He rubbed the back of his head, slowly standing up from his chair as he spoke. "I have an emergency and, um, yeah, I gotta go. Sorry!"

He called out before rushing out of the restaurant, calling a cab as soon as he was on the street, all the while his gaze stuck on the message thread he had finally managed to open.

August 15, 2019

You 15:08

I'm boarding the flight now.

Travel-sized friend 15:15

Ok

Have a safe flight.

Have you reached? 18:30

I saw a 20 min delay so you should have landed by now

Text once you're free. 19:10

3 missed calls from Travel-sized friend 20:09

Because you're not picking up the calls, here's why I called

My flight has been postponed

So enjoy your night, I'll arrive with the guys tomorrow.

Good night. 20:31

"Fuck!" Shubman exclaimed, resisting the urge to slam his hand on the headrest in front of him as his cab stood still in the middle of the night traffic, en route to the airport. If Shubman thought he had seen the worst of Bengaluru traffic when he had arrived earlier, he was being proven wrong in the most exhausting way possible.

This just couldn't be happening.

You 22:28

Pick up my call.

Shubman knew it wasn't Ishan's fault, he had called and texted him earlier to inform him of the predicament and it was Shubman who didn't get the time to check their chat on time, but he was angry and mostly just tired. It had been a long day. An almost three-hour flight, followed by an excruciatingly long two-hour meeting and then an almost two-hour dinner, all for what? For Ishan to conveniently have his flight delayed and Shubman to get stuck in this traffic for who knows how long?

He was seething by the time he finally called back Ishan, still in the back of the stupid cab.

One ring turned to two, then three, to four, then fiv-- Shubman tried again a few times to no avail and finally acknowledged the fact that maybe Ishan wasn't going to pick up.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as the horns and headlights of the various cars around him made his head throb. He knew the headache was overdue, it wasn't like he had the most relaxing day today, but he had hoped meeting Ishan would be fun enough to delay it. He knew how relaxed he tended to be around the older and that had been incentive enough for him to put himself through this torture of Bengaluru traffic again, willingly.

But now that the postponed flight wasn't going to land anytime soon... A quick glance outside the car window told him that he wasn't very far from the hotel yet. Shubman gave himself half a second to contemplate, before he was putting his plan to action.

"Hey," he said to his driver, pulling out a few bills from his pocket (more than the cab ride was worth, of course).

As the cab driver turned back, Shubman acted quickly, "Here, take these. I'm sorry for leaving you here, but I don't have a reason to go to the airport anymore. So..." He trailed off; opening the car door as the driver slowly processed his plan. Perfect. "... I'm sorry again, you can cancel the ride, I've paid you for the extra charges too and--" He ran then, sprinting off the moment he shut the car door.

Distantly, he could hear his cab driver screaming at him, but Shubman put his fight or flight mode in action and fled as fast as he could.

Screw mannerisms, he needed to get to his bed ASAP.

---

It took him about ten full minutes to pass the traffic.

He cursed every which way during those ridiculously long ten minutes, thinking he had done absolutely nothing to deserve this torture. His rationale had long since given up on him anyway so there was nothing stopping him from believing that this was all Ishan's fault.

Ishan had called at the wrong time, texted him at the wrong time, hadn't picked up his calls at the right time and now Shubman was here, doing overtime for God knows who and who knows why. Sometimes, life was unfair to him, and he quickly placed this experience in that pile of unfairness.

When the last of the traffic passed, he quickly realized that he was suddenly a ways away from the actual city. Their hotel was near the stadium which was very conveniently placed right across the city from the airport, so Shubman knew from his journey earlier that there were many rough, unlived patches in between.

He was now crossing the last of them, trying and sometimes failing to sidestep all kinds of water puddles that came in his way.

Except maybe, there was some good to it too.

The wind, for one.

He felt the breeze of the season ruffling his hair lightly as he, quite literally, skipped his way back to the hotel. His hair had grown longer recently during the last two-three months, so it was now flowing freely, egged on by the slightly cold August winds.

The clouds, for two.

He had glanced up sometime during his attempts of taming his wild hair and had to actually stop for a second to admire the silence around him and the way the clouds meandered in the sky, ready to burst at any moment. Shubman prayed to all the heavens above that they didn't burst before he got to his hotel safely. Yes, he loved rain, but he didn't feel like soaking in it just yet.

Everything aside though, Shubman had to admit, this was his type of night. It was all kinds of dark and comforting, something he hadn't had a lot to experience lately.

As he hummed the tune of a trendy love song he had listened to recently, a light skip to his steps as he approached the road to his hotel, he felt his phone vibrate.

Picking it up without much thought, he waited for the person calling to greet him first. Shubman was still a bit detached from reality, soaking in the last bit of this serenity around him as his hotel came into his view again.

He heard a slight rustle from the other side before a scratchy, groggy yet deep voice greeted him.

"Hello?"

Oh.

He knew he should say something, preferably a hello first, and then probably launch into a monologue of how angry he was at the caller but... but...

"Hello? I got a call from you a while ago, I was sleeping then. Who is it?"

Shubman liked voices. He knew it was weird, that was why nobody knew about this hobby of his, but he liked to catalog the various voices he heard around him in different ways. He was around five years old when he developed this habit, the first time his parents had taken him to a restaurant and Shubman could've sworn his ears were bleeding by the time they made it out of that fish market. After he discovered the unhurriedness of differentiating voices in his head, the next time he went to a restaurant had been better than the previous madhouse visit. This habit not only made hearing fun, but also helped him calm his mind down whenever he experienced an onslaught of various voices all at once.

So yeah, he liked voices, but Shubman was pretty sure he just about fell in love with Ishan's sleepy drag. It was like he had been searching for a voice like Ishan's ever since he discovered the joy of cataloging voices and finally found it.

"Is anyone there?" Ishan was muttering now, irritation bleeding through his (very deep) voice and still, the only thing Shubman's mind could focus on was I want my voice to sound like this.

Ishan had probably checked the contact info by the time Shubman came to his startling realization because he was now more annoyed than earlier. "Shubman? That you?"

He willed himself to store the newly found information in his All Things Secret folder and answered finally. "Hello? Yeah, it's me, hey."

Ishan hummed, "I didn't check who it was before dialing back. I thought it was important." There was some more rustling and then, "How are you? Or actually, where are you?"

Shubman huffed, "I'm in Bengaluru. Had a good flight but the meeting started as soon as I arrived so I couldn't text you back."

The other let out what he assumed was a sound of acknowledgment and didn't say anything. Shubman figured he could continue his explanation.

"And then, I was going to call you back--"He paused to let his initial irritation come back, "which, by the way, not cool. I was in the middle of the meeting when you called." Ishan snorted and mumbled an apology before Shubman continued. "Anyway, so I was gonna call you back, but then coach said a captains-only dinner was organized for us, so I got busy again. I figured your flight would have taken off so you wouldn't have received my call anyway, and then... " He trailed off, not knowing how to accept his stupidity.

Ishan helped him, of course. "And then, because I know you, you left without checking your phone first and now you're at the airport waiting for my postponed flight to land. Is that correct, master?"

Technically, he got stuck in the traffic to get there but, "Yes, that is correct. But don't start with the master again."

Ishan chuckled, a small scratchy sound that warmed some part of Shubman before he realized that the scratchiness could mean something. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

He shrugged. "Your voice sounds kinda weird. You sure you don't have a cold?"

"No, no, I'm good. Just had a cold drink while I was waiting at the airport earlier and--" As if on cue, Ishan sneezed lightly before cursing.

"You physically can't lie to me, Ishan. Your body wouldn't allow it."

Shubman chuckled to himself as he sidestepped his last puddle of water, looking up at the dark cloudy sky one last time before entering his hotel. It might rain soon.

"Hey," Ishan's voice was completely awake now, losing its low drag and Shubman felt slightly bad. "Jokes aside, I just realized. Are you still at the airport?" He cursed again, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think this would cause you this much trouble. God, you must be so tired now, and fuck, why aren't you angry at m--?!"

"Ishan," Shubman interrupted gently, pressing his floor's button as the elevator door started to close.

"It's not your fault, okay? The airline didn't postpone it sooner for me to check but you did your part. You informed me." He shushed his friend when he went to protest. "You informed me," He repeated, "And again, I couldn't check it sooner so it's fine. I didn't actually get to the airport. Ditched my cab driver as soon as I checked your messages." He reached his room in a matter of seconds, collapsing on the bed as soon as he could. "Plus, I got to enjoy the late-night wind this way so it's all cool. Don't overthink it."

Ishan went quiet after that, and Shubman let him have his time as he put the call on speaker. He should probably clean and freshen up before succumbing to his fatigue, but everything in him was protesting now that he was finally on his beloved bed.

"The wind was good?" Ishan asked him a while later.

"Yeah, the wind was great. Weather here is quite different from back home. I think it might rain soon."

"Yeah? That sounds nice."

"I know, right? I genuinely hope it does. I've been waiting for rain for so long now." He whined, more out of playfulness than anything.

Ishan humored him, "Why though? I thought Punjab had good rain this year."

"We did, but that was in July. When I came back home after the tour last week, it was all dry. Not a single drop. It was frustrating."

Ishan let out a surprised laugh and then, "You know, I just remembered something."

"Go on."

"My grandfather, father's side, used to tell us the stories of his rendezvous," Shubman could practically hear the eye roll, "with his friends all the time. He had this one special friend, who frequented the stories the most. Like..." Ishan trailed off, searching for a better word.

"A best friend?" Shubman supplied.

"Hm," His friend contemplated, "something along those lines. To be honest, Dadu never used that word. He just said, special friend. Whatever. So, he and his best friend, they met at school and were very close. But during the summers, because they were from different villages and the distance was pretty big, they couldn't meet very often.

"But every time they did, it would rain. He used to tell us how his family would encourage him to go meet his best friend every time the land got too dry for our crops. It was funny because a few years later, my grandfather met my grandmother in the same village his best friend was from. Isn't that cool? Dadu used to joke that it was like they controlled the rai--" Ishan suddenly stopped talking.

Shubman was falling asleep, he could feel it. The story was cute, he had listened to it with utmost concentration, but somewhere between watching the dark sky from his room's window and Ishan's surprisingly soothing voice, he had given up on cleaning up, letting sleep take over.

"It's sweet." He said, pulling the comforter over himself before shuffling to find a comfortable position. "Is your grandfather still fri--"

"Shubman," Ishan was speaking very quietly now and it made Shubman pause. He could feel sleep spread through him as though he was turning into a sloth but as much as his body protested, he just tightened his grip on his phone to listen to what the other had to say clearly. "Don't stop me this time, please. I really have to say it."

When he stayed silent, Ishan continued, "I'm sorry for calling you mid-meeting, for not doing more to inform you about the postponement. I don't understand how you're not mad at me because I know I would've been, but whatever. I should still apologize and so, I'm sorry."

The line went quiet.

Truthfully, Shubman thought the apology was unnecessary, all his anger and frustration had gone away the minute he had heard Ishan's voice. What he said about this not being Ishan's fault was true to because he had informed him as soon as he got to know.

But, because Shubman too got to know Ishan well in the short period of the last nine and half months, he knew the apology was going to come one way or the other because as stubborn as he was, Ishan was also one of the kindest soul Shubman had the pleasure of meeting in his nineteen years on Earth. The fact that they were friends spoke loudly about it.

"Thank you for apologizing. You should probably sleep now."

Ishan hummed, "Yeah, you too. It must've been a long day. Sorry again."

"Nah, it's fine. What time is your flight tomorrow?"

There was an uncharacteristic long pause which led to Shubman thinking Ishan fell asleep with him on the line, but then he heard some rustling on the other side before Ishan sighed, content.

"It's at twelve. Will reach Bengaluru by two."

"How convenient." Shubman teased.

Ishan whined, "Don't say it like that, it makes me feel bad."

Shubman laughed tiredly, turning away to face the wall as his eyelids closed on their own accord.

As he glanced one last time at his balcony, at the dark clouds in the sky, he felt warmth spread through him like the warmest of blankets on a cold, winter morning.

"Hey, you think that rain thing runs in your family?"

"Why do you ask?"

Shubman smiled to himself. "No reason."

---

The next day, it rained.

---

Notes:

No, the rain thing doesn't run in the family, yes, I become a hopeless romantic when it comes to writing.

I finished this arc a couple days ago but with my college reopening and all that stuff, I can't post regularly because the chapters need major editing. So, I'll try to maintain a schedule but still, there can be some delays

Other than that, hope you're in a for a ride!!!!!

Chapter 10: match 0, day 2 (part I)

Notes:

fg&lm has joined the 1k club on wattpad, you guys!!!!!

I'd like to take a moment to thank all the readers for this, just can't express how happy it makes me!!

usually, I have a surprise planned for the readers on such occasions, because you are the reason why these happen. And i did have one planned when i saw the views getting close to that number, but considering the fact that I had just posted a new chapter when it finally happened, I had to delay the surprise a bit.

dw, you'll still get it, only it won't be just now

other than that, enjoy reading!!!

Shubman knew boundaries.

It could be field boundaries, personal space boundaries, life boundaries, you name it and Shubman knew them. He knew them because boundaries had always been the one thing that saved him from any plausibly uncomfortable situation he found himself in, the one thing Shubman knew he would always be armed with.

He was so good with his own boundaries that in turn, he was quick to respect that of others around him. A random stranger could come and cry in front of him and Shubman still wouldn't dare to even hint at asking what happened, afraid that the stranger's boundaries would be broken.

So yeah, Shubman knew boundaries but as his eyes scanned the people around him, he realized that being a captain might become a tough job for him considering his immense respect for the same.

It was the day before the start of the Duleep Trophy 2019-20. Shubman's team had their first match tomorrow against the India Green team. He was pretty pumped about it, wanting to show everybody exactly how much he deserved to be the captain of his team, given the fact that his list-A debut was still only nine matches in. While he knew that the cricket fanatics all over twitter were on his side ever since his spectacular performance in the Ranji Trophy last year, he knew it would take a lot more for the media and officials to trust him after his not-so-awesome debut in the ICT squad.

For now, though, Shubman thought he should take things one at a time.

He was currently at the breakfast-slash-meet-and-greet organized by him, the other two captains and the coaches of the three teams. It was still quite early in the morning but as everyone was accustomed to the early-hour training periods, he saw more people around him than he had expected. He knew most of his team members had either arrived and were cleaning up in their respective rooms or would be arriving during the meet-and-greet. Shubman was looking forward to formally meeting them all and finally seeing the team he would be playing with for the next month or so, except...

"Hey," He nudged the second oldest captain next to him, "Are we sure the breakfast would be enough for everyone?"

Priyank just sighed, glancing at him briefly before sighing again. "It's a buffet, Gill."

"Still," If he was trying to make a point by stating the obvious, Shubman couldn't really understand. "Are you really sure we took everyone's allergies and dislikes into consideration? You know we wouldn't want anyone falling sick because they ate something they shouldn't."

He paused, considering another aspect, "Also, what if we ordered more than required and then the guys wouldn't be able to move properly because they ate too much? You and I have a match to play tomorrow, Panchal; I don't think any of us can afford that. Fazal, on the other hand, his team could probably eat however much they want, right? It doesn't really matter for the--"

Shubman was talking to air now.

Sometime during him sharing his concerns, Priyank had moved away from him, seemingly having had enough of the anxiousness Shubman knew he was radiating like an aura. Also, he was pretty sure he had been pestering the older subconsciously for the past half hour or so they had been here.

It wasn't exactly Shubman's fault though. This was his first time as a captain in a list-A tournament, so it was a given that he was nervous.

But honestly, yesterday and even today while getting ready, he genuinely had thought he'd be fine. He knew that if this opportunity was given to him, say, like a year ago, he wouldn't have been as confident as he was right then, and hence, he had enough faith in himself now to think it was fine. After all, it was just players like him (though much older) playing his favorite sport (for longer than he had).

So yeah, all had been nice and cool in his mind in the morning, until he saw actual players come into the dining hall and realized that this was it. His first impression as a captain and Shubman suddenly felt as if he wasn't ready yet. As though he needed more than the fifteen days he'd been given to mentally prepare himself for the captaincy and this feeling made him more anxious than anything, which in turn made him more of a babbling mess than he was and--

"You know, I think I spotted a few of your team members around the buffet." Faiz was saying, having sidled next to him sometime during his kinda-sorta breakdown. "Why don't you go ask them what they prefer, hm?"

When he gazed at the oldest captain blankly, not understanding whether he was serious or not, Faiz just looked at him as if Shubman was a circus monkey and he found him extremely funny. "Are you okay? You sure you'll make it out of the breakfast without getting sick?"

Somehow, the mirth in Faiz's eyes pulled Shubman out of his spiral temporarily as he felt a familiar irritation spread through him. He hated being ridiculed. "I'm so happy you find my misery worthy enough to be made fun of. Glad to know we see eye to eye on something apart from me being better than you."

When the other captain just raised his brows, Shubman knew he didn't quite hit the target as he might have liked.

"I get how arguing can take your mind off the edge but guess you're not in luck today, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Faiz shrugged, "Nothing, just that while I am here, humoring your ungrateful ass, most of your team has already settled near the end of the hall and are looking," He made a show of peering over Shubman's shoulder to look at the supposed place his team was at, "kinda annoyed at the fact that you're still standing here."

When Shubman turned slightly to confirm whether his claim was right or not, Faiz just twisted him again to look at him, hands gripping his shoulders. Shubman tried to shrug him off, feeling more discomfort than irritation spread through him, but the grip was too tight for him to remove it without making a scene.  

"Let go of me." He seethed.

"Don't be angry, dude." If anything, Faiz's grip tightened, "I'm just keeping you here until you get out of whatever space you're in and start behaving like the captain you're supposed to be. God knows the team doesn't want your anxiousness to be the first thing they know about you."

Shubman took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, not because Faiz had told him to, but because he really had to have a semblance of control as his mind spiraled infinitely. Nothing the oldest captain was saying registered in his mind anyway, because it was too busy focusing on the hands on his shoulders, digging into his skin. Well, nothing except the anxiousness thing and now he had trouble breathing normally.

Would his team really not like him if this is the condition they meet him in for the first time? Even the small optimistic side inside of him knew the answer to that rhetoric question.

Old school and hence, now frowned upon, Shubman had some faiths even he questioned on a daily basis. Like how a captain was supposed to lead and show only a strong front for his teammates to be motivated by him, to learn from him and to follow him. 

After years of playing professional cricket though, Shubman knew, from experience, that none of what he used to think about how a captain should be had to be true for a team to win. If the captain knew how to make his team work, how to work through their weaknesses in a way that left them with no option but to win, then he could do that without being strong enough to always put a brave face on. 

Shubman knew this and yet, as parts of Faiz' words started ringing in his ears, he couldn't, for the life of him, bring back these newly found revelations to his mind; ones he had motivated himself with this morning and the past fifteen days, ones that were buried somewhere behind his old school faith and opponent's words. 

This situation had gone south faster than Shubman could say south.

"Look," Still trying to focus on one thing at a time, "I don't know what you're trying to play at here, but please," he said quietly, trying to gulp in as much air as his constricted lungs could, "get your hands off m--"

Luckily, his plea was heard, "Hey, hey, hey, I'm sorry." Quickly, the hands holding him left and Shubman felt like he could breathe again. He doubled over as his lungs tried to adjust to the sudden oversupply of oxygen.

"Man, I didn't know you had a problem. I'm sorry. I didn't mea--" Fuck, he had overreacted. The pity in Faiz's eyes let him know that much.

"It's fine." Shubman just wanted to forget this interaction for an indefinite period of time. "I'm fine. You're cool, whatever. Just..." He panted and waved his hand a couple times, and Faiz seemed to understand him better now. The oldest captain nodded, and made his leave, not before advising Shubman to go and greet his team as soon as possible.

Shubman scoffed mentally. He wanted to do just that; had thought he could do just that before Faiz had pulled this stunt on him, of course. Now, he wasn't even sure if he could walk straight enough to be perceived as a normal human being anymore. 

He wasn't sure if he could even think about controlling himself and his mind, let alone his actions when, or rather, if he went to the table his team was seated at.

And wasn't that just fucking great?

---

The elevator was being a bitch.

It probably thought the same about Shubman though, as he continued jamming his finger on the down button as if the more he did it, the faster the lift will reach his floor.

He knew coming back to his room to calm down had been a risky move per se, given the fact that all the teams were supposed to indulge in their respective practice schedules the moment the meet-and-greet was over, but anxiety was a real thing and Shubman was its very real victim.

Being the captain meant he had the liberty to get a single room for himself, void of any roommates; a good thinking on his part because at least his breakdown didn't have any audience to witness it. It took him a good while to take control of himself again, and by the time he felt as though he wouldn't burst the moment someone said a wrong thing, the meet-and-greet was almost halfway over, giving him absolutely no time to think about anything but getting back down to the dining hall.

Except, of course, the elevator was being a bitch.

Shubman sighed deeply, leaning against the wall beside the lift doors and pushed the hair from his forehead back. He just felt so tired and empty, all of a sudden. And the tournament hadn't even officially begun yet.

When the elevator doors finally opened, he got in without a glance at the people already present, hands twiddling his phone as he thought of the ways his team would greet him now.

Technically, captains were meant to greet the members as soon as they sat down at whichever table they saw fit, and it was common courtesy to do that alongside their coach. He vividly remembered the time when he used to wait for his captains and coaches to come greet him during his initial tournaments and how that attention made him feel. Shubman huffed to himself bitterly as he thought of how his team might have felt watching him leave the hall hurriedly, without even glancing at them for a second. They had to have been waiting for him now and he wouldn't put it past them to be angry for that because after all, as a captain, he had a responsibility and he had done nothing to work on it, except, of course, if leaving when things got too difficult for him to deal with didn't count. Really, why was he such a child sometimes, he couldn't understand and--

"Hey, Shubman." A distant chime of the elevator door opening, "Miss me?"

Shubman was dreaming, he was sure of it. He was dreaming that his naturally smiley friend was greeting him as the lift stopped a floor above his. He had to be because there was no way Ishan fucking Kishan was standing in front of him when he knew the older had a postponed midday flight and it wasn't even 10:00 am yet.

"Shubman?" The Ishan of his dream was waving a hand in front of his face now, looking all kinds of confused. "You're blocking the entrance. Move, idiot."

He did so in a daze, still not over the fact that he was dreaming, no, hallucinating about his friend like this, in broad daylight. Shubman couldn't believe the amount of brain damage his recent episode had caused him because this? This had to be new low, even for him.

"Can you hear me?" Dream Ishan was concerned now, moving into Shubman's personal space with practiced ease, as if it was natural. "Are you okay, Gill? You're scaring me now." A hand went to his forehead, checking his temperature before Dream Ishan was frowning.

Shubman just continued staring at his imagination stupidly, the only coherent thought revolving his mind being: It would be so nice if this were true. If Ishan were actually here. It was all wishful thinking, he knew, because again, Ishan had a midday flight, and it wasn't even noon yet; but still, if Shubman was going to ignore his responsibilities for the sake of being sick by them and act like a child every chance he gets, then he might as well start thinking like one. It's only fitting.

"Where are you even looking at?" A scowl marred his face, "What are you smiling about? What's happening here, Shubman? Is this a prank?" Dream Ishan, being Ishan, was getting frustrated by his lack of response now. "I swear to God, if you don't reply to me in the next five seconds, I'm going t--"

Shubman just stopped paying attention to whatever gibberish his mind was making Imagination Ishan speak. It was all in his head anyway, so it wasn't like it couldn't be repeated anytime he wanted. For now, he just wanted to hear the soothing voice of his friend, one a few decibels above the one he had heard on the phone call yesternight, one which surprisingly sounded quite eerily like real Ishan too. 

Hm, interesting. 

Now that he thought about it, leaning into Ishan a bit to peer at the smaller guy, which in turn made Ishan wobble in his place because of the lessening distance between the two, this Imagination Ishan really was quite suspiciously like the real version of his small friend. This time, Shubman frowned, because something wasn't adding up. 

He revisited his conversation with the other guy. What had he said?

"Five."

What time is your flight tomorrow?

"Four."

It's at twelve.  Will reach Bengaluru by two. 

"Three."

Yeah, Shubman sighed in relief, he wasn't going mad after all. The flight was scheduled to arrive after a good six hours or so. He had calculated it earlier in the morning while looking at his practice schedule, had decided to use the lunch break to go surprise and pick Ishan up from the airport like the original plan had been about, and then they'd have lunch instead of dinner together and come back to their respective practices. 

"Two."

Satisfied with his discovery, Shubman stood up to his full height again and marveled how he knew his friend well enough to conjure up such a realistic version of him and--

"One."

... Shubman's ears were ringing. And not because of the usual sign of an episode incoming. 

A slap echoed around the elevator just as the doors for the ground floor opened, and then Ishan was dragging a stunned Shubman, with one hand holding his cheek gingerly, out to the lift lobby.

"Y-you just slapped me."

"Because you weren't listening to me." 

"But it hurt."

Ishan looked at him funnily, "It was supposed to, moron."

"But you're not... real."

"Huh? Are you," Ishan's eyes widened with realization as he let out an audible gasp and then looked around before stepping close to Shubman to whisper, "high, Shubman?" The way he said it, it made Shubman doubt for a second.

What?

His friend looked adorably nervous at the thought of it too, "I won't judge you if you are but like, are you?"

"No." Shubman denied vehemently, "Are you mad? Why would I do drugs a day before the tournament?" He paused, reconsidering, "Actually, why would you even think I do drugs in the first place?"

Ishan looked at him like he was an idiot, " Hey, no judgement from my side. Also, well, you're acting like you are... high. Don't blame me for confirming."

They were both whispering now, fighting like little kids.

"What did I even do?"

"You didn't respond to me for, like, the entire time we were in the lift. I got scared."

Shubman gaped, "So I didn't reply to you for the two minutes we spent in the elevator, and you thought you should slap me?"

"Well..." A sheepish expression took over Ishan's face, "when you put it like that..."

Shubman's mind decided to take that particular pause to remind him that he was arguing with a very real Ishan now. Which meant that Ishan fucking Kishan was here, in Bengaluru, and was actually standing in front of him. Shubman hadn't been dreaming.

This discovery made his mind spin.

"Wait, wait, wait," He shook his head a couple times, "You're actually here? Like I'm not imagining you?"

"The slap hurt, didn't it?" Midget had the gall to be smug about it.

Shubman scoffed; he had forgotten about that little detail for a moment there. Thanks to Ishan, he focused on it again. 

"Don't you think, even for a single second, that I'm letting go of that so easily, Ishan," he leaned forward to stare into his friend's soul, their faces a hair's breadth away, before whispering, "You are so going to regret that."

Ishan gulped and his wide eyes told Shubman that he had successfully gotten into his friend's head. Good. 

Now, for the flight thing, "But you said your flight was postponed to midday?" 

Ishan coughed once, blinked at him twice, before responding with a meek, "I... lied?"

"Why?"

"I wanted to surprise you?" The tilt in his voice at the end of the sentence made it seem like a question. 

Wait. "Are you asking me?"

"... no?"

"Are you okay?"

"... yes?"

Shubman felt a laugh bubbling inside of him as he watched Ishan struggle to utter even single syllable words now. 

"Did I break you?"

This new side of his friend was as funny as it was refreshing as Shubman could practically see Ishan's brain working overtime to process his question. 

"I... don't know?"

He burst out laughing then, startling an unusually timid Ishan and pulling him out of whatever state he had gone into. 

For the entirety of the months they had been friends for, Ishan was just so self-reliant and self-confident that Shubman had experienced many instances when a voice from deep inside of him would tell him that this is how Shubman should be too. So comfortable in his own skin that the world could change but you'd still remain your true, authentic self. Ishan had been like a rock, no amount of teasing and jeering and trash talk affected him, not on the outside at least. Exactly opposite of Shubman, in that sense. 

So, naturally, whatever had just happened to Ishan in the last few minutes, something that made him seem so... so... different from his usual self that Shubman had associated him with, just made Shubman feel nice, in a way. As if whatever he had experienced prior to running into Ishan had been nothing more than a learning experience for him. As if the impermanence of Ishan's stability told him that even he could let go sometimes and try to find the skin he would be comfortable in. If that skin had anxiety written all over it, that could work too. 

This new side of Ishan had reinstalled his belief in you learn something new everyday ideology.

Continuous swats aimed at him brought him out of his reverie, as he tried to avoid the violence Ishan had resorted to. This was more like the friend Shubman knew.

"You're laughing at me! How dare you?!"

Shubman continued laughing and clutched his stomach before doubling over again, "You... you were just like... yes? no? I don't know? Like..." he gasped for air as Ishan put him in a chokehold. His laughter, the culprit, still didn't stop.

"I'm going to kill you. Me slapping you was... fine, I'm sorry for that, but you laughed at me." Ishan twisted and tightened his grip on Shubman and the latter began laughing and coughing simultaneously, "When you got into my head like that, so it was your entire fault anyway and you still laughe--"

"Ishan."

Good things always come to an end, that's what they say right?

Shubman felt them both stiffen as they stopped whatever play-fighting they had indulged in. 

He knew that voice, had heard it plenty times yesterday. It was the reason why he had to go back to his room, so of course, his good mood went sour pretty fast as Ishan released him and they both faced the captain of the former's team.

"Captain," Ishan said, his pleasant smile at work. "Nice to meet you." The polite hand he extended was shaken carefully as Faiz introduced himself too, all the while glancing at the two like they had committed blasphemy or something.

"You guys know each other," He paused, eyes flitting between the pair of them, "how?"

"We are frien--"

"We played together last year." Shubman quickly cut off whatever Ishan had wanted to say. "We were on the same team and paired up as roommates so... yeah." He pointedly ignored the stare burning on the side of his face.

Faiz hummed, but Shubman could see he was still uncertain. He cursed mentally; this was why friendships in the league were a pain in the ass.

Shubman knew what Faiz was thinking about, right at that instant, something along the lines of how close they were, how much they knew about each other and being a captain himself, he knew there were thoughts revolving their performance with, as well as against, each other. His mind recalled the vague contradictions he had thrown Ishan's way last winters, when somehow the latter had managed to gain his trust, and he knew Faiz was running those same arguments in his mind right now as they both stood fidgeting under his gaze.

Just because he had found a good friendship in Ishan didn't mean that Faiz would appreciate it too. He was a captain, so it made sense why he was so suspicious. Ishan was by far one of the best players he had on the team, so his friendship with anyone on any other team was bound to concern him. 

Maybe, Shubman was being way over in his head because of course, Ishan had other friends in the league too (though he hadn't heard about them yet) and of course, Faiz had been a captain longer than him, so there was no way he could trouble himself with Ishan's friendly associations outside of the team, like an amateur captain like Shubman would. Maybe, it was the truth, and maybe, he shouldn't have cut Ishan off while he was introducing them as friends because it wasn't like he was wrong. They were friends. Shubman couldn't, for the life of him, grasp as to why he did that. 

And maybe, Shubman was wrong, and all of this was just his nervousness talking. Maybe. 

But if he could stop the effect these even maybe scenarios might have on Ishan's potential (and chances of his) performance in the upcoming matches, he would act on them unprompted.

Ishan was nudging at him, as the three of them stayed quiet, albeit awkwardly. Shubman tried to back off, tried telepathy for the first time to ask Ishan to back off but quickly realized that all the hype around it was fake and it didn't work at all. It was only in his most desperate attempt to leave this weird situation he found himself in suddenly, that he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Gill, Kishan, how's it going?"

Shubman had never, ever, felt more grateful for knowing Anmolpreet until that instant.

"Hey, Singh! My teammate!" He quickly extracted himself from the whatever-the-fuck-it-was encounter between him, Ishan, and Faiz and stuck to his so-called friend's side like glue. "I'm good, it's going amazing. What about you?"

"Hey, Anmolpreet." Ishan was saying behind him, voice a bit tensed than before. 

"Kishan, you're in India Red, right?" 

"Yeah, Fazal here is the captain." Ishan, Anmolpreet and Faiz all shook hands with each other as Shubman sought refuge behind his teammate. 

"That's cool." A finger pointed at him, "I'm still stuck with this cocky son of a bitch here," and the other three men laughed good-naturedly as Shubman just chuckled, too busy formulating his escape plan to defend himself.

The moment Ishan began, "Hey, why don't you guys--", Shubman just plain panicked.

"Singh, dude, it's been so long since we've met," He slung an unwilling arm around Anmolpreet's neck and, quite literally, started dragging him towards the meet-and-greet, "Why don't we chat and sit with the team, yeah? They're still in the hall, right?" 

Anmolpreet, flabbergasted with the sudden attention, let himself be pulled for a second, before Shubman's words seemed to register in his mind and then he started enthusiastically telling him about all the time they spent apart. 

Mission accomplished.

Shubman said his goodbyes to the two players of India Red and left with Anmolpreet, fully immersed in the pretense of being interested in whatever tournament his friend was now bragging about.

If he saw slight traces of hurt in Ishan's eyes as he hurried to make his exit, well... Shubman tried to make himself believe he didn't see anything then. 

---

Notes:

don't kill him, he's just a confused baby

this chapter originally wasn't divided into parts but then I went back to edit and omg, the word count went from 4k to a whooping 8k so I had to break it down.

bickering idiots are so back!!! I missed writing them arguing like little kids!!!!!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 11: match 0, day 2 (part II)

Notes:

i genuinely don't know what i did here, tbh.

"Hey, guys, look who the wind brought in! It's our missing captain."

Shubman had been expecting this, so he said nothing in his defense as he took all the jeers and teasing of his teammates when he finally made it back to their table.

"Hello, everyone," He smiled a bit before bowing slightly in front of everybody, "Shubman Gill, captain and batsman, India Blue team. Hope we all play a good tournament together."

Everyone was coming to introduce themselves to him then. Shubman knew from the briefing meeting yesterday and his own research that some of his team members were older, more experienced players (than him anyway) who gave up on their dreams of making it big in the ICT after a good few series and were permanently into domestic cricket now. He had an aim regarding this part of his team; he wanted to get on their good side to learn as much as he can from them for his future and growth. This was easy, for him anyway.

But as the members got younger and younger in age, his research flashed through his mind again, and he remembered the bit about the players who were playing in the domestic season for the first time or who were making their list-A debut with this tournament and team. As Shubman glanced over to see their fresh, new but equally nervous energy, his mind took him back to last year when, he was sure, he was being a lot more fidgety than them.

This part, he thought, was kind of hard for him because, in general, a captain is supposed to lead. These new and budding players are the next generation of cricket, just like Shubman and he realized that this was the responsibility he had felt so unsettled over for the last few days. He knew from experience how a bad team or bad firsts in the league can shape one's future self and performance, so it was entirely upon him to make this team or, at least the tournament as a whole, a good one for them to learn from. Better than what he experienced his first time around anyway.

The breakfast was almost over now, they were meant to go training according to their schedules.

Shubman glanced longingly at the ceiling to floor length windows in the dining hall, covered with mist and droplets of freshly fallen rain because sometime during him leaving and coming back to the dining hall, it had started raining miraculously (not really because he had seen the clouds last night, had predicted the same but still, this was sudden), so all they could do now for their routine practices was work out in the gym, at least until the rain relented a bit. 

This decision was made during the impromptu meet the captains had to attend the moment Shubman had managed to free himself from a surprisingly clingy Anmolpreet and now he was here, to relay the information to his team.

"Alright, you guys had your fun." He tried to control the rowdiness of his members, "Now, I have an announcement to make, so if you could..." but he could see, very clearly, that they weren't interested in him, not for now at least.

Shubman, from a year ago, would probably have given up right then and there, if he was being honest.

There's something so unexplainably tiring and stupid about having but also, more specifically, wanting to control the chaos of a team with all players older than you, that it didn't make sense why would you even want to try? Like it's pretty and agonizingly clear that no one was going to listen to him anyways because apart from being their captain, the initial shock of which was conveniently dismissed now, and a promising player for the entirety of his nine matches since debut, it wasn't like he had a good name in handling the social aspects that come with being in a team. That was, and anyone with a working brain can attest to that, Ishan's department, someone Shubman would rather not think about right now, again, if he was being honest. 

He was already feeling shit about this... this-- Was Ricky actually throwing a bread on... Ashutosh? -- whatever this was, that he didn't need more guilt piling up on that. 

A quick glance across the room showed his coach, Faiz and Priyank staring at him discreetly (though nothing about their owlish eyes was subtle), most probably assessing his control over his team. Damnit, he needed a new tactic.

"Guys!" He hollered at the maximum volume he could achieve and tried not to wince when the entire breakfast hall went quiet for a second. He had a chance to seize. "Practice is cancelled for today."

Probably not the best choice of words, given that these are professional cricket players and not like the students he used to captain back in school, because there was only a single moment of shocked silence before everybody was erupting into various reactions. Shubman struggled to keep track of them all. 

Some were, as expected, happy, because like most of the team, they had arrived super early in the morning and were pretty tired, so no practice meant that they could sleep off the exhaustion of traveling for the time being. He felt nice for them, the rest is very much needed considering this time they're playing a four-day match for consecutive days so catching a break in between would be a hassle.

The others though, Shubman tried not to cringe at memories of him doing the same, were enraged, to say the least.

"Why is the practice cancelled? I get that there's rain--"

"--but we can still practice. Our first match is tomorrow--"

"--cap, so missing out on practice--"

"--this close to the tournament is not ideal, you--"

"--know that too. Did everyone else--"

"--agree to this no practice thing? Cap--"

"-- I think you should talk to them again--"

"--And tell them that at least the Blue and Green team have to--"

"--practice today anyhow, cap--"

They went on and on for a while about how wrong it was and how it would impact their match starting tomorrow and what Shubman, as a captain, should do about it but it was like his brain was stuck on that one word, playing it on loop like an earworm melody. Cap. Captain. 

Holy shit. Shubman was the captain of an actual list-A team. 

The fact that he was also the youngest member present, not only on his team, but also the entire dining hall filled with members of other teams now protesting against the rain conditions, didn't ease him, not one bit at all. The worries of the last fifteen days and the anxiety from the morning, all of that coupled with the silliness of his encounter with his friend afterwards, the guilt it made him feel and now his inability to control his team, or at least get them to listen to him for more than a few seconds, were all coming back to him together and he felt himself stumble a bit as he tried to gather his thoughts. Keyword being, tried. 

The reality of it all was sinking in now, as he looked around to his team members finally focusing on him again and Shubman thought he cannot possibly do this. His eyelids were strangely hard to be kept open, and did he read somewhere that stress makes one gain weight because he, not kidding at all, felt as though his body was getting heavier by the second. 

Concerned and surprised shouts and eyes of the players around him were the last things he heard and saw as he let his body takeover completely and fell. 

Cherry on the top? The tournament hadn't even started yet.

---

If someone had told Shubman that he'd be lying in his hotel room, getting checked up by a doctor as his team members peer concernedly at him the day before his first captaincy match in a domestic tournament, he'd curse at them for overshadowing. Because that was exactly what he was doing, as the doctor flashed his flashlight into his eyes.

It was comical, to see the entirety of the fourteen players of his team sitting and barely managing to fit inside his small, one-person room. A sudden urge to laugh grew inside of him but the pounding throbs in his head told him his body wasn't quite ready for that much work yet. The older members were all worried, he could tell, looking at him as though he might break the second the doctor left. Shubman really wanted laugh now because the sight of men over the age of twenty-five, or well into their thirties, looking as though they were a bunch of kids getting their first injections, was too much for his broken humor.

The guys who were actually getting their first taste of everything, the younger players on his team, looked positively scandalized as they stared in horror when the doctor finally took his leave, prescribing Shubman with a few basic vitamin tablets and restricting him to a bedrest for the day if he wanted to play tomorrow. Jalaj, one of the oldest players, went to see him off, leaving thirteen man-children looking at Shubman as if he might die any second now.

Shubman couldn't control his laughter then no matter how hard he tried.

"You..." he coughed, before Tushar, one of the newer players, was giving him the glass of water kept near his bedside. He drank it greedily before clearing his throat, while trying and failing to get rid of the lingering laughter. "You guys, I'm not dying."

Even Anmolpreet, a guy Shubman could have sworn a few months ago hated him with every bit of his passion for cricket, was looking pretty constipated at the idea of his captain being sick the day before their first match.

Ah, Shubman mused, his captain.

"Seriously, stop looking at me like you're at my funeral." He looked at his players pointedly, "I wouldn't even invite you jerks if I have my way." A few snorts were his reward, and he ploughed on, "Half of you were advising me to do something about practice being cancelled today. Where is that passion now?"

"Gill," Ashutosh, another one of the older players, came forward, "You're sick. We can't just leave you here."

A year ago, Shubman, the cold, detached soul, would have thought his teammates were bluffing, using his predicament as a means to skip practice and put all the blame on his ill-timed sickness. There were a few traces of that doubt still lingering in his mind because he wasn't Shubman Gill if he wasn't skeptical of everyone around him, but as he looked at the faces of all his members gazing at him with what seemed, at least to his current self, as genuine concern, Shubman knew there was some sincerity in the objection raised by Ashutosh.

"If you guys think you have the captain privileges of getting sick and resting luxuriously," he teased deliberately, earning himself a few chuckles, "then start thinking again. I want you all out of my room in the next one minute."

"Cap," This time, it was Anmolpreet, "hear me out. What if you need someone's help when we're gone? You are barely cleared to play tomorrow, moving around today is completely off the table as the doc said."

That bit was true. Shubman cursed silently at the lack of privacy having his entire team in his room led to, because all of them had been there when the doctor had issued the clear warning for him to just relax for the rest of the day, if he wanted to play tomorrow. Like hell he could sit still in this room when he knew it was the first day of their first match tomorrow. He prayed to some heavenly power above to give him something, anything, to work this problem out.

A quick glance at the clock in his room and some quick math helped him.

"Why don't we get one of you to stay with me while the others practice?" 

He suggested, mind still working to see this idea through completely, "You'll change shifts every hour or so, to maintain contact with the world outside of this," he gestured to his room, "luxury and I'll get to talk to you guys like we couldn't in the morning." He smirked, smug about finding a way out of this, "How does that work?"

He looked at his members, could see them doing the math he did a few seconds ago and the moment everything added up in their minds was pretty clear to him. He chuckled again when none of them made a move to leave, still.

"You have about," he pretended to glance at the non-existent watch on his wrist, "a minute to leave this room and start your work outs. And the time starts..."

Shubman glanced one last time at his entire team cramped up in his tiny room and felt his heart warm a bit.

This is sportsmanship.

"...now."

---

"Good work today, Gill," Tushar was saying to him, "this slot idea was a good one. I wasn't too sure about a famous prodigy becoming our captain, no offense," he raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender when Shubman looked a bit too offended, "but you showed us why they selected you today."

Shubman beamed as he watched his last babysitter finally pack up.

Someone, during the age-wise order of his teammates staying with him one by one, had spread the rumor (fact) about Shubman being the youngest player on the team (his guess was Anmolpreet because he was one of the only few people privy to that knowledge) and then they all had just taken to calling themselves the babysitters of the baby captain and the name just... took.

Disgusting (read: heart-warming), Shubman thought.

Tushar was the last of the slots, the oldest on the team and as Shubman watched him leave, he felt bone-deep exhaustion settle inside him.

Don't get him wrong, talking to his teammates one-on-one had been refreshing and strangely... enlightening, to say the least. Shubman got to learn about so many new experiences, funny stories while he made promises to meet families back home, found families in the cricket world, along with a whole lot of different and intriguing tips for his career. He had indulged in giving out wisdom and some pretty solid (if he was being honest) advice to those in need as well amongst other things, so much so that his mind was filled to brim now.

There was also the fact that Shubman was a natural listener. He worked best with people who could talk for hours on end because he could never get tired of listening. And while a lot of his members were on that side of the spectrum, a few of them were on Shubman's side as well. So, he found himself talking more than his average words per day limit, and again, his mind was at its capacity because of that pretty taxing exertion.

Shubman sighed deeply, before sinking further into the fluffy mattress beneath him. He could probably fall asleep any minute no--

His phone was vibrating.

There was a message, and as much as Shubman wanted to sleep, his curiosity got the best of him and he felt around his bed for his phone before finally viewing the message, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness.

Travel-sized friend 22:51

Open the door.

Shubman groaned loud enough to hear the answering laugh from the other side of his door.

You 22:52

Doc said I'm not allowed to get up.

Call?

A part of him wanted to delete the message as soon as he sent it.

After the, to put it lightly, awkward encounter in the morning, Shubman barely had the time (or energy) to talk to Ishan again. He had been cooped up in his room pretty much the entire day since then and he was sure Ishan was at practice with his team, so Shubman hadn't bothered him much, choosing to spend time annoying his teammates instead.

Honestly, he knew what Ishan wanted. Given the fact that a captain was given bed rest just before the start of the tournament, Shubman knew news had to travel. Hell, he had gotten two separate visits from Faiz and Priyank earlier in the day, both of them looking pretty worried for his state, so Shubman knew it was only a matter of time before the news would reach his friend and Ishan would come.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, Shubman had his doubts. 

Because while he was pretty certain that whatever happened this morning had been a wrong place, wrong time thing, and Ishan wouldn't let it affect their friendship so easily, Shubman couldn't deny the fact that he had felt extremely out of his depth at that moment. It was his first time having a friend, a real friend in the league, someone he met up with in between tournaments too, someone he actually trusted. And while he knew how to spend time with Ishan the way they had always, privately but not secretly, he didn't know how to face the general public of cricketers with the older as his friend.

Think of it as Shubman knowing how to drive pretty confidently in an empty playground; he could probably take the car up to the speed of a hundred and twenty without assistance there, but then suddenly, he's asked to drive on a busy, jam-packed Old Delhi road, with angry office workers and how-were-they-even-given-their-licenses auto-rickshawalas cursing at him from all sides, where he has no experience whatsoever. So, like an average human being, his knee-jerk reaction is to panic and do something ridiculous like stepping on the accelerator without a second thought (or denying the fact that Ishan was his friend).

These doubts, coupled with the very disturbing image of Ishan's hurt face, one Shubman was trying to convince himself he didn't see, were enough to make him question whether Ishan would come to meet him or not. And as the hours of the day passed by, even though he knew the smaller must have been busy with his practice or spending time with his teammates because Ishan wasn't new to all of this bonding time unlike Shubman, there was something akin to disappointment settling in his gut as he looked hopefully towards the door of his room every time someone came in, someone who wasn't Ishan. 

His phone vibrating with the message alert brought him out of his reverie.

Travel-sized friend 22:54

Ok

A second later, Ishan's contact flashed on his screen and Shubman picked it up with some hesitation.

"What happened?" was the greeting he got.

"Nothing," Shubman tried to hide his yawn, he really was tired, "I just fainted in the dining hall after breakfast today. Doc said I hadn't been sleeping and eating a lot lately, prescribed me a few tablets and told me not get up from the bed without assistance if I wanna play tomorrow."

There was silence for a while and Shubman wondered if he said something wrong.

He huffed, "He really was scary, that old man," more so to diffuse the weird tension on the line and the one coiling in his gut for having upset Ishan (again) in some way than any actual humor.

"Oh." Ishan's voice was quiet. "Are you okay, now?"

Shubman hummed, "I feel pretty well rested. The guys kept me company."

"Yeah? How did that happen?"

"They were all quite worried about me being alone and potentially doing something to hurt myself more, so they just wouldn't leave for practice until I was settled down properly. I had to do something then, 'cause I'm the captain, you know." He heard Ishan snort weakly and smiled a bit. "So I asked them to stay with me one at a time."

"Hold up." Some life was back in Ishan's still quiet voice, "You? And one-on-one sessions? With actual people?"

Shubman laughed, "Unbelievable, right? Wait till you hear how much time I spent actually talking to them. It was like a revolving door of counselling patients with me as the therapist." He sighed contentedly, "Apart from talking to family, friends back home and you, today was the first time I did something crazy like this, to be honest."

Ishan sounded a bit more delighted as he said, "That's so cool, Shubman. I feel so proud of you, man."

Shubman winced; sheepish expression visible to no one in the dark of his room. "Hey, come on. It's not that big of a deal."

"Don't do that." Ishan chastised, "Don't downplay it. You know it was a huge thing."

"I don't." He whined and buried his face in his pillow as his cheeks felt a bit too hot for his liking.

His friend laughed that melodic sound then, and Shubman felt himself relax again.

It was nice, he thought. How Ishan knew exactly what to say to make him feel like the best person in the entire world. Shubman appreciated his presence in that moment, more than ever, as fatigue and tiredness urged him to close his eyes for the night. 

He was pretty sure all this tiredness was what made his tongue loose enough to confess a small, "I was... waiting for you today."

The line went quiet, and Shubman started panicking lightly again, wondering if he really had said something wrong this time. 

Ishan just sighed after a while and then, "I just couldn't bring myself to come."

That hurt, if he was taking it in the metaphoric sense but Shubman gave his friend a benefit of doubt, letting his brain perceive it in a literal way, "Practice took too long?"

"No." 

Ouch. "You stayed up late with your friends?"

"No, Shubman. You know it's not that. Stop..." Ishan made a frustrated sound and Shubman felt bad, "... acting clueless."

"But I'm not." He was. 

"Yeah? You sure about that?"

No. "Yes."

"Okay."

"Ishan," He sighed dramatically, gearing up for a verbal fight, "I really don't know what you're talk-- wait what? Okay?"

Ishan hummed, "Yeah it's fine, I understand how your stress," the way he said it made it seem so wrong, "must have affected your thinking capacity. It's cool, dude. I don't care."

"Oh." 

Shubman knew he was in the wrong here. It didn't take more than a few seconds of thinking and a basic functioning of one's brain to understand that. The hurt he still refuses to see in Ishan's expression earlier had made a deeper impact than he had given it the credit for, and Ishan was upset with him, it was all clear and obvious to him. What wasn't clear to him though, was the fact that why did Ishan even bother then? Coming up to his room especially to talk to Shubman when he couldn't do that in the entirety of the rest of the day, giving Shubman the hope that maybe he wouldn't have to address his naivety when it came to behaving like a normal human being in the league, and everything was fine between them, when in reality, it wasn't. 

So yeah, Shubman knew he was in the wrong but maybe he wasn't ready to accept that in front of his friend yet. The friend he still wasn't apologizing to.

"Hey, Ishan?"

"Hm?"

"I gotta," A yawn, "sleep now."

"Yeah?" Ishan paused, considering his next words, "Sure you can't stay awake for another five minutes?" Shubman could almost hear the pout in his voice. Fuck, his friend was cute.

He chuckled at the thought, tired brain discarding it as soon as it came alike some good fun. "Nah, man. Match starts early tomorrow, and I need to make up for today's practice before that."

"Hey, mister," Ishan's tone was stern, and Shubman found himself grinning sleepily, "don't overwork yourself, okay? You missed today for that reason alone." 

"Hm, I know. Don't worry, I know the limit." Another yawn and Shubman shifted to lie on his other side, phone pressed between his upper arm and ear.

"You sound pretty tired." Ishan observed, like the revelation just happened for him. "Cool, okay. Good night and all the best for tomorrow."

Shubman was at his complete and utter peace as darkness shrouded his vision when he finally felt his eyelids close.

"Thanks, and good night, Ishan."

 

 

 

 

 

("... Shubman?"

"... did you just fall asleep like that?"

"Hey! You're not gonna cut the call now?"

A fond huff and then, "Fine, then I won't either!"

---

Shubman frowned as he opened his call log with Ishan and saw a 7 hours 23 minutes and 45 seconds long entry there.

Huh, weird.)

---

Notes:

guess who cut the call????

this chapter is not edited before posting, kindly ignore the typos and stuff.

also, ik ik, Ish deserves better and i wholeheartedly agree with that, so just bear with me, okay?

there's a certain direction i have in mind when it comes to this arc so have faith in me and try to forgive shub, he's just a teenager!!!!!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 12: bonus: ICT (part I)

Notes:

1.5k on the orange app, & 500+ views here, you guys have made my week without even knowing.

Thank you so much for the love and support y'all are showering this fic with. i genuinely wasn't expecting this much appreciation, so thank you again.

here is (a part of) the surprise i had in mind for this occasion.

I wouldn't say much about this, except that this might or might not be a preview of how the book 2 of this series will go.

other than that, enjoy reading!!!!

January 2019

Shubman had a goal. To play international cricket in the Indian Cricket Team.

For everyone around him, it was a dream. A dream they were working towards, a dream they would like to fulfil, one day. But having a dream and having a goal were two entirely different things and no one knew it better than him.

He had been eleven years old, a quiet, shy kid with a cheeky side reserved only for his family, when his father had first introduced him to all the notable players of their state's cricket team. There were names in abundance in that list and Shubman had felt pretty confident, despite being so young, that his name was going to be in that list too one day. 

His father had cracked a fond smile, before shaking his head. "Only players who actually play internationally get their names there, Shub. You think you're gonna make it that big one day?"

Little Shubman had puffed out his chest and said in the deepest voice he could muster at that age, "Of course, dad. It's my dream to make it big." He pointedly looked at the list of names displayed in front of him and declared, "Just like them." 

His father had crouched to this level then, what with little Shubman's height not taking the hint of puberty and growing exponentially at that point yet, and ruffled his hair adoringly, "Make it a goal, son. Dreams are just fragments of our wants; goals are pieces of our realities."

This matter-of-fact statement had changed little Shub's perception for good that day, and amongst the long list of things he's grateful to his father for, this definitely stands in the top five.

Point of the matter, hence, is that Shubman had a goal. To make it big. To represent his country and his state internationally. To play cricket as though his life depended on it, literally.

"Mr. Gill, looks like we finally have a deal, yeah?" The managers and lawyers of Team India were sitting in front of him. 

Well, not exactly in front of him, it wasn't physically possible yet for technology to make that happen. Except, there was a laptop in front of him, and it had been there the entire time he had been in the room, connecting him from Mumbai to the admin staff of Team India currently in Australia. His lawyer and manager were sitting on either side of him, both busy replying to the personnel that had just addressed him regarding the deal. 

Shubman glanced at the clock to his right, the clock that kept ticking for the entire twenty three minutes (he was so counting) it had taken to start, discuss and conclude this meeting, the clock that had just witnessed one of the youngest and current most promising domestic players get signed by Team India for the upcoming international series. The clock that had just witnessed a nineteen year old Shubman signing the contract that had been the focus of his goal ever since he was eleven.

It had been an oddly summer-esque day in January when Shubman finally signed the contract to play in Team India for the ODI and T20I series against New Zealand, starting later that month.

"Hey, man. Looks like it's just us left here now-- Gill? Are you there? Gill! Shubman Gill!"

He startled as he heard the slightly grainy voice of an older player from the laptop speakers call out his full name for some reason beyond him, staring at him as though Shubman didn't make sense to him just yet. Shubman, in turn, blinked at him owlishly a couple times. 

Not making sense would be true anyway because Shubman's life didn't make sense to Shubman anymore either.

It had been two days ago when he had gotten a call from his agent that the current year's Team India personnel and representatives wanted him to connect and have a word with them. Have a word with them, under normal circumstances, meant that they were either going to remove him from the running list of prospects for the upcoming year's ICT squad or he was getting lucked out during the meeting. 

A few specific instances of his seniors in the industry had fearfully passed through his mind then, instances where they had been specifically called to a meet to be interrogated as to whether they did a certain wrong thing in this and this match and were they ready to take the blame for, similar to, in Shubman's case, being questioned that was he ready to drop out of the race for a position in the 2019 ICT squad. While Shubman knew he was just being dramatic in thinking that something of this sort would happen to because really, he hadn't even played enough matches to get into a controversy other than being praised uncontrollably for his prodigious performance thus far. But fears are like that, aren't they? Making you afraid of even the most nonsensical scenarios you can conjure up. 

On second thoughts, however, Shubman knew this was no normal circumstance, given the controversies that had been swirling around the cricket world for the past few days. Everyone, most specifically players alike Shubman, had been dizzy with anticipation as the suspension of KL Rahul and Hardik Pandya was announced by the BCCI during their on-going Australia tour and just a fortnight prior to their upcoming New Zealand tour. It was obvious that the squad would have to include new members, and it was only a matter of time before they would recruit some of the new talents from domestic cricket in the suspended members' place.

Shubman had been all over the internet during the time this news broke out, his name being tossed around the most in the media for the best replacement. And while he didn't appreciate being named as the next best choice for the squad, he knew an opportunity when he saw one. And he'd be damned if he let his pride get in the way of him finally taking the first big step towards his ultimate goal.

"Yes, sir. I'm here."

Sir? Seriously?

The older player seemed to think so too as he wrinkled his nose a bit before waving a hand in the air, "No need for formalities, kid." He gazed at Shubman, eyes assessing. "We're gonna be on the same team now. Let's focus on getting comfortable with each other, yeah?"

Shubman looked at the older guy on the screen in front of him, actually looked at him and wondered if this was really happening.

His eyes then strayed to where his own face was displayed in the meet. The boy who started back was kind of unrecognizable to Shubman, if he was being honest because the array of feelings on that face, displayed so openly, was just so not... Shubman. It was as though Shubman himself couldn't make out the varied emotions flitting through his own face. Awe, disbelief, uncertainty all together, but most of all, pride, at finally being here. At finally making it big.

"Uh," he gazed uncertainly at the older guy in front of him. It just occurred to him that all the lawyers and managers and extra staff members had left the meeting in both the places, leaving the two players to get acquainted in private. "What do you propose I call you, then?"

The guy just hummed quietly before shrugging, "Doesn't really matter. Most of the guys on the team have their names set out for each other, so we don't exactly have a general name for anyone. You would just have to stick around long enough to make custom names yourself." The guy grinned, his eyes sparkling with the promise of a captain. "For now, though, you can call me whatever name suits you."

"Cap." He decided and rolled the letters around his tongue a few times, trying to fit a (kind of) permanent image for this particular word he had been using ever since he started playing cricket professionally. Finally, when he felt confident enough, he cleared his throat once and put on his big boy face. "Shubman Gill, batsman, Team India." It felt so nice to say it out loud. "Nice to meet you, cap."

The older guy grinned again and greeted Shubman with equal enthusiasm and hope for a good time together as Shubman.

"Virat Kohli, captain, Team India. Nice to meet you too, kid. Welcome to the team."

---

News travelled fast in the cricket world and Shubman was aware of that. So, when the news of him and Viraj Shankar replacing Hardik Pandya and KL Rahul in the upcoming New Zealand series came out a few days after them signing the contract, he wasn't surprised in the least bit. It only made sense that the news followed all his family, well-wishers outside of it, congratulating him for the selection and about a million notifications from people all over twitter stating that it was the right choice Team India had made. Shubman thought so too, thank you very much.

He reached for his phone from where it had been charging during his morning practice, a few days after the contract signing but two days before he was supposed to start training with the team (they had just finished their Australia tour and were scheduled to start practicing day after tomorrow). So, he and Viraj were training together to help Shubman try and match the other guys' level a bit before stepping into the net with them. Considering Viraj had already played with them in Australia, Shubman thought it made sense. 

There weren't any important messages. Just a few of his former teammates, coaches and friends from places he didn't even remember congratulating him, hoping he does well enough to actually get some field time instead of being a reserve for the entirety of the tour because everyone, and sadly he himself, knew that him being a replacement meant he would be more of a spot guy for the team than anything else. He tried his hardest not to think about that and continued scrolling through the messages.

A message from Ajinkya caught his sight. Ajinkya, whom he had exchanged numbers with after they'd won the Deodhar Trophy together about three months ago. This affair had been a strange one too because--

Shubman was at lunch the day after the finals, sitting alone while scrolling through twitter on his phone.

An unfamiliar phone was thrust into the suitable 25 centimeters between the screen and his face, the act committed by none other than his guilty (now ex) captain, Ajinkya Rahane.

"Here." Ajinkya pressed the phone against his face a bit more, when Shubman didn't make a move of taking the phone, just staring amusedly at the guy for the first few minutes.

"What?" He asked innocently, knowing full well what the other guy wanted him to do.

"Come on," Ajinkya groaned, sliding in the chair next to Shubman as he quite literally slammed the phone in his unprepared hands. "Don't wanna lose contact with a future ICT player." He admitted reluctantly.

"Are you..." Shubman stifled a laugh, "Cap, by any chance, are you asking me for my number?" He mused, smirking as he saw Ajinkya grow increasingly tired of his pettiness.

"Yes, kid. I am." He sighed. "Will you do the honors now so I can leave to catch my bus timely?" He asked exasperatedly, and Shubman thought he had teased the guy enough now.

"Sure, here you go." Ajinkya had to literally snatch the phone from him when he opened the camera quickly before adding a cheekily smiling selfie as his contact photo.

"Just for that, I might even use it for illegal purposes now." Ajinkya mumbled before leaving, which left Shubman laughing for a good few minutes. He knew the other guy had been joking; there was just something about Ajinkya that made it hard for Shubman to even think that he would want his number to use the connection in future or something.

--that happened.

He chuckled to himself as he saw yet another awkward message from the older guy.

Happy to hear about your inclusion in the ICT. You deserve it. Don't let random people let you think otherwise.

He didn't know why but somewhere in the past three months, Shubman had started thinking of Ajinkya as cute, in like a totally endearing way and the latter's text just now didn't let him change his mind about that.

Viraj offered him his towel from where it had been kept on the rack along with his and peeked at his phone a bit. "I don't think our phones are gonna stop blowing today." He said in the way of conversation.

Shubman glanced at him after typing out the message for Ajinkya. Thanks, bhai. Means a lot.

"Yeah, it's really bad this time."

The other player hummed, "Your first time, isn't it? You'll get used to the rush soon."

Shubman shrugged, "Hm, I know." He paused, considering, "But I kinda like the feeling of... well..." Trailing off, he looked around to assess their company at the gym (just a handful of the regulars of the hotel) before leaning in to whisper to his amused teammate, "importance, if you know what I mean."

A loud laugh was given to him in response. "You're an egotistical jerk underneath all the cricket, aren't you?"

Shubman grinned, remembering similar words being spoken to him not too long ago, though in an entirely different context. "Yeah, 'course I am. Punjabi, remember?"

Viraj's eyes were wide as he gave Shubman a quick onceover, "Should've known man. That state produces cricket players like it's its birth right or something. You're what, the tenth player of our generation from there?"

"Haven't really counted but could be, yeah." Shubman shrugged, "It's better to give out constant talent than once in a blue moon like yours though." He smirked, nudging the guy out of his way to get his water bottle.

They continued shooting shit at each other for a while, a typical get to know each other when it came to Shubman, before their trainer finally concluded that they were done for today and could use the rest of the day to roam around the city if they wanted. 

An offer to hang out was on the table, Viraj asking him to keep the older company at least until the full team arrived. Shubman knew words enough to read in between the lines though, Viraj subtly wanted them to get to know each other, what with them being two peas in a pod.  

So yeah, the offer was made and Shubman wanted to decline initially, he had more important things to tend to. Like his sleep, for example. God knew he valued his rest more than anything and he had barely slept for more than two hours the last few days what with everything that was going on in his life and the anticipation (or trepidation, whichever suits the case) of what's to come next with the tour, not letting him sleep at all. 

He wanted to decline, pretty solid defenses lined up to reason with the other, but... Shubman was also only nineteen years old, visiting New Zealand for the first time and somewhere deep inside of him, there was a small boy with the love of all the cultures in the world, actually having a field day at the mere thought of visiting the city of Napier, the city which would later mark the ICT debut for Shubman in a couple of days. 

Usually used to being silenced, this small boy inside of him jumped in joy when Shubman finally let himself loose for a day and agreed to hang out with Viraj. 

Not every day it is that you come to New Zealand for playing in the Indian Cricket Team now, is it?

---

The small boy inside of him didn't win the next day though. 

Shubman knew his limits, knew not to be stupid enough to become overconfident about the same and so, when Viraj offered again if he wanted to come with and hang out the next day, Shubman refused. A call to family back home excuse coming in handy. It was probably too early in the morning back in India for his parents to even be awake but what Viraj didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

He bid his goodbye, came back to his room, showered and changed into some light sportswear to finally check all the messages and notifications from the safety of his hotel bed. He called his parents after an hour finally, because he had only been partially using that as an excuse, and all close family who had texted or called him ever since the news broke out. He was feeling damn good after hearing how proud they were of him and all the good lucks from everyone on phone. 

It made him feel validated, to know that other people in his life took out time from their schedules to wish for him and pray for him to have a good debut, to have their luck on his side in this sense just made him feel like he deserved to be here. As a replacement for now, sure, but later, when he was older and more experienced, he deserved to be here as a rightful member. The fact that people thought so too, important people of his life, made him pretty damn happy. 

He had been replying to the texts of some of his old buddies from school when a new text popped up from the only fancy name in his contact list.

Travel-sized friend 11:11 

done with practice?

He smiled, adjusting his hold on the phone before sinking deeper into the mattress. It was going to be a long thread again if Ishan had waited for him to finish his practice before texting.

You 11:12 

Yeah, just showered, was 'bout to go to sleep. 

Oh? 

Want me to text later then?  

No, no, it's cool. What's up? 

Shubman. Gill. 

You did not just ask me what's up

He laughed. This was exactly why he had asked.

What? What's wrong with it?  

It's a common conversation starter you know. 

OFC, I KNOW THAT

He snorted.

Glad to know you still have manners

Even if you hardly use them

It's all your influence, kid with no etiquettes

Sure, whatever you say, old man

Why are you picking a fight with me this early in the morning???

MEAN

Shubman could almost hear the whine in this (these) text(s), the one that came from the back of Ishan's throat. The one that Shubman had heard plenty, almost three months ago. It made him reminiscent, of course, for nothing about these texts would ever beat the way he felt when he was in the actual presence of his friend. The fact that the word friend was now used a lot in his vocabulary for referring to Ishan on a regular basis said a lot about how far they have come in just three months of knowing each other. 

It still baffled Shubman how he went years without knowing the other before they were ultimately thrust into the same team to play together. 

But also, the text suddenly reminded him that they weren't in the same time zones, weren't in the same country or even the same continent for that matter, for them to have this conversation so easily. A quick glance at the time showed that it was around 11:20 am in New Zealand meaning Ishan had gotten up at five in the morning to talk to Shubman.  

Now, Shubman knew that it wasn't that big of a deal, he had literally talked to his parents a few minutes prior to texting his friend, parents who were used to getting up at ungodly hours in the morning for reasons only they can justify. And Ishan was also a professional player and hence, early hour practices were a common occurrence so maybe he had been up for his practice today as well and coincidentally happened to message Shubman. Maybe.  

Except, it was off season.   

Meaning Ishan had no practice whatsoever until at least the start of February which was still short of a fortnight away and now Shubman didn't have any counterarguments left to defend against this fact for if he knew anything about the older from the almost constant texting they had done for the past three months and the days they had lived in the same room for before that, it was that Ishan valued his sleep so much so that it rivaled even how much Shubman did. 

Shubman what kind of feelings, or expectations as is, this line of odd thinking would bring so he tried to just convince himself that Ishan had been up at this ungodly hour for any other major reason and his minor reason might have been catching Shubman at a convenient time after his practice. Whatever. 

Though, fine, okay, Shubman felt slightly guilty (and strangely giddy) for teasing him, as Ishan had said (whined), this early in the morning. 

But...

I'm not mean. You are.

And before you ask, no, I'm not five. It's the truth

Damn

You know me so well

But fine, I'll bite

Why am I mean now?

Shubman scoffed to himself. The audacity!

Don't you watch the news?

Nah, it makes me feel old

Caring about what goes on in the world makes you feel old?

Well not that exactly

but like, yeah

Maybe

Sometimes, Shubman liked to think that Ishan was mature enough to be year older than him. Sometimes.

You know what? I give up

Other times, he had to forcefully remind himself of the universal fact that Ishan was supposed to be a year older than him. 

HAHHAHAHAAAH

Not that I don't like hearing this

Because it means I won

Today was one such time, of course. 

No, you didn't

Ishan ignored him completely.

But what happened?

Suddenly?

Was this guy serious? Shubman wasn't exactly a sentimental person, but Ishan really was pushing all his buttons now, to the extent where he had to physically control himself from punching his friend through the phone. Or at least attempting to do so, anyway. 

You really

He hesitated, expectations making it hard for him to go through with this, expectations he shouldn't be having at all, expectations he knew never bore anything good for him ever. 

I really what, dude?

Expectations were the last thing he wanted to indulge in however long this friendship with Ishan was going to last, but for now, he just said fuck it and sent the next text. It was just Ishan, anyway. 

You really don't know?

It was also, albeit with a lot of reluctance, becoming clear to Shubman that maybe, his friend didn't know. Maybe, he really hadn't heard, maybe he had an early night yesterday (only explains why he was up so early) and hadn't checked the news yet. The news of Shubman being drafted for the ICT to play against New Zealand in a couple of days.

Shubman knew he was being uncharacteristic. Goddamnit, he had the whole aloof, doesn't-give-a-fuck attitude already laid out in its best form to join the new team with in a few days. 

And he had been okay till now, for the most part, too. All his close friends and family had already wished him, they were there with him for this amazing win in terms of his cricket career for him and he had been fine. But... Ishan was his only friend in the league. That much had been established that night they had won the Deodhar Trophy. And by now, everyone (mostly) in the league had already wished him. Everyone he wasn't friends with, everyone he didn't even talk to after playing whatever tournament they had played together. 

So, sue Shubman for feeling bad because--

Travel-sized friend 11:33

What???

Don't know what????

You 11:35

<attached a link>

You didn't even congratulate me, asshole.

Fuck off.

He flicked his phone off and let it drop somewhere on the mattress near him.

Whatever. It wasn't like he and Ishan had spent the better half of their Ranji Trophy tournaments recently in the Nov-Dec-Jan bracket texting each other every chance they got. Shubman knew that had been majorly because they couldn't meet up even once during the tournament for it was the only one in domestic cricket that had an all-India coverage of grounds to play matches in. It had just so happened that Ishan's Jharkhand team had been in a different group than Shubman's Punjab and hence, they hadn't played against each other even once, and also, couldn't really meet one another amidst the tournament.

So, they had resorted to texting because they were friends. And now Ishan hadn't even seen the news of Shubman's draft for the ICT squad, let alone congratulating him for the same. 

New friendships take time to become habits, Shub, his father had said to him once. Well, new friendships also required friends wishing each other if one of them gets to play for, you know, the Indian Cricket Team, which, again, was a pretty big deal, but what would Shubman know about friendships anyway, right? Ishan was the supposed expert here, so if anything-- 

His phone was ringing.

He sighed.

Let it ring completely till the end, his ringtone sounding unpleasant for the first time since he had started using it, and with a mental note of changing it as soon as possible, he switched the phone off without even checking who called.

Shubman had a fair idea anyway. And he was too hurt to even think about talking to the guy. He needed rest, not another half ass friendship drama.

He pulled the comforter to his chin and went off to a dreamless sleep.

---

Notes:

angsty much? y'all are not even ready for what i have in store for the future (hehe)

bonus chapters never influence the main storyline, which is why i picked out a past event for this.

also, ik ik, i mentioned in the main text that ish called shub the moment he sent a simple i got in text, and i like to think that happened irl, tbh.

But this bonus is my take on what would have happened if all wasn't well in their fairytale world that i sometimes like to imagine and if we were, you know, looking at things a bit more practically.

hope you liked your gift for your hardwork, and that you keep giving me reasons to give you more surprises!!!!!! Thank you again!!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 13: match 1, day 1

Summary:

everybody has bad days, it's on you to keep it limited at bad or make it worse

ofc Shubman likes to take it too far

Notes:

I MADE A HUGE MISTAKE

so apparently, faiz fazal is supposed to be the captain of India green and priyank panchal is supposed to be the captain of ish's team or India Red team.
but in my haste to end this arc, i completely exchanged them so here we are now, dealing with that mistake.
now i don't think i'm gonna go back and change their dialogues and stuff, but like just so yk, i made a mistake 😭😭

Shubman always thought that growing older and gaining experiences was supposed to make one stronger; physically, mentally, emotionally, you name it. The trust you had in yourself, the people you had surrounding you, the type of person you became, the future you shaped for yourself, and again, you name it, and one was supposed to learn that as they grew older. 

But as Shubman made his way down the pavilion to the middle of the field for the coin toss, he felt as though he might never get old enough to be strong for this. The jitters and nerves before a match. 

These were scary, he had a pretty hard time stopping his hand from shaking as he did a cordial and mandatory captains' handshake with Priyank on the field and then called out heads for the toss. These were not new as well, Shubman knew. Every match he had ever played featured these jitters, sometimes through his mind, like his characteristic overthinking, but sometimes through his body, like the tremble in his hands as the result of the toss was announced.

Point of the matter was that Shubman always felt like even if he played a million matches in his lifetime as a cricketer, he would never get rid of these pre-match nerves.

And, frankly, he didn't even want to.

Weakness is not pleasurable, being reminded that there's something out there which has the potential to scare you or weaken you isn't the best thing to happen but sometimes, weaknesses are better than mistakes committed because you just weren't scared enough to take things seriously. After all, precaution is better than cure, right?

This anxiousness he always felt before the matches is what that entailed for him. That he was taking this match and all the ones he had played before as seriously as he could, wasn't busy slacking off and tanking his performance because he just couldn't bother being serious about it, and remembering the importance of this sport in his life, time and time again.

India Green won the toss, and elected to field. Shubman liked to think he was too old for superstitions now.

While going back up to his team, he pondered on some of the aspects of today's match.

The field, for example.

It was not the best field to play at, he knew, given the fact that it rained yesterday. No matter how much you try to dry it, it wouldn't just go back to normal within less than a day after the rain. However, he also knew that there wasn't much the players could say now anyway if the officials had deemed it dry enough to play in, giving them no choice but to gear up and win.

"You okay?" He asked Ruturaj, one of the openers of his team, as he got ready to bat.

"Yeah, Gill, not my first time on a wet field." There were some snickers around him but Shubman ignored them. Ruturaj tilted his head to look at him for a second, "You sure you'll be okay if you worry so much?"

A punch found its way to the other's shoulder and his teammate laughed.

"No injuries before the match, young men." Their coach hollered making everyone laugh as they cheekily pointed at Shubman as a reminder.

He was just concerned about his teammates, sue him. Raising his eyes heavenwards, Shubman made his way to the other opener.

Snell started talking before he could even open his mouth to ask anything. "Yes, cap, I'm good. I know how to score on wet fields." He winked and the team had the time of their lives as they collectively chuckled at the double entendre.

"Hey, Patel," Anmolpreet called out, "careful with the words, cap's still a minor."

Shubman resisted the urge to pout. "You're literally my age, moron. And I would like everyone to remember that I am nineteen years old, thank you very much."

A chorus of "Aww" echoed around him and he groaned. Snell laughed as he got up from the bench after gearing up, "Seriously though, you don't have to worry about me, cap. I'm good."

"I wasn't worrying, just came to wish you luck, you punk." He snarked, albeit without much heat.

There was more laughter and Shubman decided he had done enough for this ungrateful lot.

Making his way to the elevated platform provided just outside their pavilion, Shubman looked at the soaked ground again and sighed.

Test matches were his least favourite formats of cricket. They were drawn out unnecessarily for days on end, with no definite answer of who's winning and who's not until the last day. It had taken Shubman a good few days to actually understand the layout of it all when he had been learning about it at his cricket academy, and he quickly realised that it just wasn't suited for him. He was a fast player; one-day was good but he performed his best in T20. Couple test matches with rain-soaked field and you have Shubman's worst nightmare.

But cricket was competitive in India, and he knew being unbeatable at just one format wouldn't do him any good. Yeah, he might play internationally in that, but to actually become permanent enough to have a stable career in the Indian Cricket Squad, he had to have all sorts of formats under his belt. This was also another reason why he didn't refuse this captaincy in this test format of Duleep Trophy 2019-20; he knew the cricket officials were looking forward to what he would do to lead in the new format.

A mistake here, and they might as well just forget the fact that he was a prodigy. Already a year into the league and his performance wasn't promising at all for the long term. It was bitter and harsh but Shubman's mind chose those silent moments before the start of the match to remind him that after the Ranji Trophy last year, he hadn't done anything monumental this year.

Yeah, he had some good innings and wins to his name, he wasn't denying them, but on an average? He was nowhere near his potential.

He could be the youngest guy for only so long before somebody would replace him.

Of course, there was the fact that the domestic season was only starting with the Duleep Trophy 2019-20 beginning today and he had more of these tournaments coming up for him, now that he was (partially) a permanent player for the A-teams and domestic teams, since last year anyway, but that was the case for today, or this year, in that sense. What about the next year when a new prodigy similar to him would turn nineteen and decide to undo all the wrong innings Shubman had played till now. Would the officials still prefer him? Initially maybe, because of his experience, but how long would even that last?

Everything in the Indian cricket world was transient until you made it permanent enough for you to survive.

Shubman tried to shake off these thoughts plaguing his mind and willed himself to focus, and his team to win this fucking match. Or at least have a good first day, whatever worked for them. They all huddled together in a circle and Shubman felt the change in the atmosphere. All playfulness and teasing from earlier was gone, now that they were ready to listen to his mini-speech before the match started.

"I'll be honest with you guys," Shubman tried to convey his seriousness, "The ground isn't the best we could have. Coach talked and confirmed with the officials that while it's not as soaked as it was yesterday, there's still a certain amount of risk of injury involved the moment we step out in that field to play." He paused, more for dramatics than any real reason because he had to emphasize what he was going to say next, "But isn't there always?" A few smirks appeared and Shubman knew his players understood the point he was trying to make.

"I wanna tell you to beware and play safe, that there's no need to get out there completely because your health matters more than this match and all of that is true but," He looked at them all in the eye to let them see his sincerity, "is that all it would take for us to just leave that win we know we deserve? The win all of us are here for?"

The fire of passion in his team's eyes was everything Shubman had secretly hoped and prayed for.

"Playing this sport with an amazing team, we are meant to be here in Bengaluru, fighting for the damned win and you all know better than me that no rain, no earthquake, no nothing, can change that fact."

This feeling of belongingness coupled with that pre-match adrenaline was everything and then some to him. "I want us all to go out there today and let our game shout it out for the world to see what we're made of. And what we're made for."

Insider talks, but everyone in this tournament knew that Shubman's team wasn't the best one out of the lot of three prepared to compete here. India Red was the most appreciated one as a whole, and Shubman felt genuine pride in him at the thought of Ishan playing for a good team.

India Green was on his team's level, sure, but the players in that team were, and don't let anyone hear this, younger than the ones allotted to Shubman. He wasn't complaining, God no, because who knows what he would've done if he were assigned people around his age with no more experience than what he had. Shubman was extremely grateful for the older members of his team and he had wanted to utilize their playing style and experience for the team's benefits as much as possible. So no, he wasn't complaining.

But the fact remained that Shubman's team was considered to be the weakest among all present and he was simply a hot blooded Punjabi captain of a team not expected to scale great heights, so obviously, his knee-jerk and only reaction was to prove them wrong. And the team's enthusiasm right now seemed to be on the same page as his.

"Are we ready to show everyone what we got?" Tushar hollered.

"Yes!"

"To show why we belong here?" Rajat, another player, came forward next.

"YES!"

"And are we going to win this fucking match?"

"YES, CAP!"

Cap. Shubman felt an exhilaration akin to what one feels on a roller coaster spread through him.

All the fourteen players of the team put their hands atop each other's for the team cheer.

"Go India Blue!"

---

In a broader sense, if Shubman were to explain the test format to anyone who didn't understand it--because it made sense why one couldn't--he'd probably say that wickets were the only thing they needed to watch out for. There was no limit to the amount of overs they had to play for, a barely there limit on their playing time of six hours each day. The only things that had a limit were the number of innings played and the days they were supposed to play per match.

Duleep Trophy had a four day test match format and given the fact that it was just day one today, setting a good target was all they had to focus on. So, and Shubman was pretty sure about it, as long as no one was out, they were good to go--

"FUCK!"

Easier said than done, ain't it?

"You're next up, cap."

Shubman wanted nothing more than to go down to the field and play; he had expectations to uphold, people to appease and most of all, like he said to his team, himself to convince that he deserved being here in this tournament, as the captain no less. He wanted to wreak havoc for the other team on the field, to show every official out there that his talent went way beyond the boundaries of the formats, the grounds and wanted to silence his own inhibitions about not being good enough for the ICT squad yet, despite being in the league for about a year now.

He wanted it all, and wanted it greedily because passion never worked without hunger, but somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a quiet voice; so quite he couldn't even hear it clearly as he made his way down the stairs to the field to bat, but it was there. Silent enough to be felt but not enough to be heard.

It was the kind of voice that might get lost in the white noise around a normal human being on a first glance but the moment you make the mistake of noticing it, there's no going back. You'll keep hearing it until it's the only thing you can hear, despite not understanding what it's trying to say.

Shubman knew from experience however, what it was saying that is. He had endured this voice his entire life after all. Even had a pretty nickname for it that went by anxiety and unnecessary-but-still-fucking-there-nerves on some occasions. Ignoring it never worked, he knew that too, because once it started talking, muttering, whatever; the volume of its words only increased with the passage of time, making it harder and harder to forget about its existence.

It was cruel and sadistic, stopping only when Shubman felt all his motivation, fire of passion, will to work harder and all things alike just fizzle out, like he was never powered up for anything in the first place. It was draining, exhausting, mind-numbing. It was a part of him.

He tried again, to have the desired and much-needed silence in his mind, to focus on the ball as it made its way towards his poised bat, to make a lasting impression. He struck and looked around to find where the ball went.

The hit he felt had been a good one, he was expecting a four, at the least but maybe his motor abilities weren't exactly coordinated in that moment, maybe he miscalculated because he just couldn't focus for the life of him or maybe he was way over in his head about how good he was, but as Shubman watched the commotion of the Green team members celebrating another wicket, he suddenly realised that there had been no hit, or not a powerful one at least, because the wicket keeper caught the ball. He was out.

Shubman trudged back to the pavilion, a sad six on thirteen balls to his name now, and wondered what the fuck had just happened.

---

"Is this seat taken?"

He startled, déjà vu hitting him hard as Ankit, first middle order batsman for the day, came up to him in the bus.

The journey back to the hotel was a long one and Shubman just wanted to listen to some soothing music to avoid the chaos he knew his mind would be in without it, but as he looked at his teammate waiting patiently for his answer, he realised his healing had to be put on a pause for a while.

After all, duty calls.

"No, no, you can sit here."

"Thanks, cap."

Shubman hummed, focusing on the player next to him, Bengaluru scenery all but forgotten. "What's up?"

Ankit just shrugged, "Nothing. Guys in the back were teasing, needed a break, is all." He gestured to the wires hanging around Shubman's neck, "What about you?"

"Just listening to some songs."

"What kind?"

"My phone's filled with the saddest songs ever made. Wanna listen?"

Ankit shook his head, smirking a bit, "Bad breakup?"

He snorted weakly, "I wish. More like bad first day, but sure."

An arm slung around his shoulders, and then, "You'll live, cap. We've all been through this."

He wanted to correct Ankit, and everyone on his team who thought similarly, that no, not all have been through this.

There were times when Shubman thought he had; living through these bad days of his performance, all the while thinking the next day or next match he would do better, but deep down, he knew he was too dedicated, obsessively so, to think that he'll ever live through this horrible feeling of letting his team, his family, his father, and most importantly, himself, down.

He turned to his side to look at the man next to him, "It's cool," It was not, "but what do you want?"

Ankit gasped, "What do you mean what do you want? I told you the guys were teasing and--"

"--you wanted a break, yeah, yeah, I got it." He subtly shrugged off the arm around him and stifled a smile, "But I also know Anmolpreet asked you to be very subtle about asking me whatever it is you're here to ask me."

There were collective winces from the back of the bus and Anmolpreet yelped as, Shubman assumed, someone in the back hit him.

He snorted, and twisted in his seat to look at the lot towards the back, "You guys really thought I wouldn't know why you've sent the best performer of the day to me unprompted? I'm young but not dumb, idiots."

Technically, he had been genuinely worried initially that Ankit was being teased a bit too much for his better than most performance today. He also didn't know what exactly the fuck was being planned in the back of the bus, because, as he mentioned earlier, Shubman has been too focused on his songs to listen to any other noise around him. But he had fully functioning ears and eyes which told him enough see the nonchalance Ankit was faking, the overly nice way he was behaving in and the loud chatter in the back reduced to whispers the moment Shubman took his earphones off. Like he said, he might be young but he was no fool.

Ashutosh laughed, "Gill, this is gold," he came towards Shubman's seat as all his team mates finally left their huddle from the back of the bus, "I warned these," a hit on Ankit's head and everyone laughed, "morons that you are too good to miss any gossip."

Meh, Shubman wasn't sure about being interested in gossip, per se. It reminded him of the time he argued with Ishan when the older suggested Shubman hate--disliked the gossipers in a team. Thinking about those four-five days was weird because it made them feel so far away, as if that time wasn't just nine and half months ago.

But also, personally, Shubman felt a bit weird thinking about them for the sole reason that every time he did, he was faced with the fact of how far he had come from disliking gossipers to actually befriending one.

Ishan was the epitome of gossip, he needed to know everything about everyone around him, failing which made him feel like he wasn't doing his best. Or at least that is what he told Shubman when asked why he did he have to be so involved in everybody's lives. Ishan had scolded him of course, because it was a rude thing to ask, and it made him feel invalidated (how? was beyond Shubman) but had given the answer with a lot of thought, all the while the latter tried to think of ways to tell his friend that he hadn't actually meant to be rude. It was just how he knew to talk.

Exhibit A, for you to judge: "Hm, but whatever it is you guys are planning, I'm officially rejecting it."

A collective gasp echoed around him as the bus stopped in front of their hotel.

Shubman took advantage of their immobile states and got down from the bus quickly, whistling a random tune. He made it to the reception--farther than he had estimated--before his teammates were approaching him hurriedly.

Aniket, a reserve player, came forward, "Cap, you can't say no before we even say anything."

Shubman huffed, "I can and I just did."

"But why?" Jalaj whined and murmurs of agreement floated.

"We have a match to continue tomorrow, so of course," He gaped at the people around him, "I can't yes to anything you guys propose for tonight. That just can't happen, sorry."

"We know that too, Gill." Tushar, the oldest, piped in, "But nothing about this plan is bad, I can assure you that."

Shubman felt somewhat better now that he knew that even the older members were on board with whatever was going on.

Though only somewhat, because while it felt good to know that everyone was involved instead of only the younger members conspiring something to have fun on a match night, like what he had believed earlier, the more meant the merrier, which in turn meant the harder for Shubman to refute whatever it was that they had planned.

Ha ha, the joys of being captain.

"Assurance works," He sighed, gesturing everyone to move to the dining hall to continue the discussion, "I'll listen sure, but no guarantees of acceptance can be given."

A chorus of "Come on, cap", "We won't tell you otherwise" and "This can't be happening" echoed around him and Shubman wanted to scoff.

"You guys really think after what we did out in the field today, you have a right to ask anything of me?"

Fuck, when will he learn to control his fucking mouth?

That shut them up for a few seconds. Everybody around the big table they had occupied looked at him harshly, not appreciating the bitter reminder.

Ricky, another batsman, said, "You know whatever happened today wasn't in our hands, Gill."

Everybody voiced their agreements over the argument raised by their fellow teammate. Shubman, too, knew he was right; a lot of things weren't in their favor today but that didn't necessarily mean they tried their level best to counterattack the hardships.

His side of the argument was simple. Shubman had a good team. Despite the fact that a lot of their players were older, the fusion of the old and young talent was what he was betting his team's success on. The coordination between them was everything he wanted, he had made specific efforts yesterday to reach there despite being put on a bed rest, but cricket was more than just sportsmanship. He knew that better than anyone.

Shubman, from a year ago, knew that better than anyone.

Their team got along surprisingly well despite having met only a day ago. There were all kinds of people present; the jokesters, the parents, the old friends, the clowns and all such categories but if there was one thing he learnt from their time on the field, it was simply the fact that there was a fine line between being good operationally and being good actually.

Every player's performance on the ground today had been mediocre at best and this was Shubman being quite generous. He had been frustrated with his lack of a good front on the field, sure, his slump in good performances had struck again, but his team didn't exactly have to follow his lead, not here too, right?

He did scoff now, "112 in forty nine overs, Bhui, with six wickets gone. Who the fuck do you think is going to compensate for it tomorrow? You?"

Maybe, it wasn't the best way to say it, but Shubman felt like he was being backed into a corner with no defense or support to help him as hurt swirled in the eyes of his players. Or maybe it was the harsh lighting of the dining hall, Shubman couldn't tell, not while he was now trying to formulate the best way to escape this supposed funny interaction turned argument against his team.

"Gill," Ashutosh sighed, "At least listen to the request first."

"Nah, man, it's fine." Shreyas, a '93 liner, stood up from his chair. "If the captain says we did badly, then we must repent for it, right? Everyone," he addressed as his fellow age mates started standing up as well, "The plan for tonight is cancelled. No one will argue with our dearest captain and bother him about it because he's busy being pissy at us for something we had no control over."

The fellow age mates along with a few other players agreed, and Shubman felt dread form a pit in his stomach. "After all, it's not like what we planned had to do anything with helping him relax with his teammates so that there's no stress in his game tomorrow." Shreyas sneered at him as the team around them started to disperse, their disappointed murmurs making Shubman's head throb. "We can't be that good after playing bad for one day now, can we?"

He didn't wait for a reply, and Shubman didn't have any as he watched his players leave the hall, not one staying behind to console him. Being an asshole for no reason does that you, he guessed.

Except, he did have a reason, didn't he? Why didn't it feel important anymore?

In that moment, in the dining hall with the harsh lights, looking at the door from where his teammates left and from where the players of other teams starting to file in for dinner, Shubman felt like he couldn't do this.

This... this... barely stopping himself from begging his teammates to not leave him like that, nails forming crescent moons on his palm from how hard he was fisting his fingers to control his emotions, angry, frustrating tears dancing on his eyelids, anticipating the break of his composure as he hurried towards the lift.

This was tough and hard and bad and didn't feel good at all, but Shubman was just... alone and sad and confused and barely holding on as he made his way to his room.

Click of a lock, body dropping dead on the bed, and mind willing to erase the last hour from his memory, Shubman went off to a dreamless sleep.

Notes:

first chapter with no ish, how does it feel, you guys? ngl, felt pretty weird to me for a second.

also, there's this thing I wanted to address.

idk if you guys felt it or not but I was rereading all the posted chapters (the first arc majorly) the other day and I felt that the gravity of their lives wasn't talked about, not properly at least. Like there were some mentions of it and Ishan helped Shubman through those specific mentions but the extent of it wasn't explored at all. And that just didn't sit well with me, which is weird bec I literally wrote those chapters :")

so, I'd like to mention it here but like every arc has some specific things to focus on, this duleep trophy arc will heavily focus on the graveness of their environment and the way that affects Shubman's life, relationships and stuff, amongst other things. This could be either in front of Ishan (like the first arc) or in his absence as well. This story is shubman-centric for a reason so just like, bear with me, okay? Ish will help shub ofc but he doesn't necessarily have to be there always. They're still only friends, i'd like to remind everyone.

and yeah, that's it ig. If you have any thoughts on it, please do share. I'd love to know what you guys think.

Chapter 14: match 1, day 2 & 3

Summary:

Are you okay?

Notes:

only thing I wanna say before going in is that Shub's redemption is gonna be a wild ride, trust me.

(day 2)

Are you okay? 06:32

Shubman startled awake, looking around his surroundings frantically to make sense of who he was and where he was and what he was doing. His head throbbed from a pain he couldn't quite place the origin of, and he had to actually stop for a second to relax a bit, take a few deep breaths before realizing he was Shubman Gill, in his room and had been sleeping before being awoken by his alarm ringing.

He hit snooze after finding his phone buried deep inside the pile of comforter around him. Lying back down for the five minutes before his alarm would ring again, he tried to relieve the tension building in his back muscles by sinking into the comfortable mattress. A semi-content sigh found its way to his mouth as he assessed the darkness of his room despite it being morning already, or so had the alarm graciously let him know. He wanted to thank whoever it was who designed the interior of this hotel for installing the all-black and actually effective light blocking drapes that had been drawn to the hilt by a frantic and depressed Shubman last night, and as a second thought, he was grateful for his last night self as well.

Only for the curtains though. Anything before that he either didn't remember, or didn't want to admit his fault in.

Shubman should probably go for breakfast now, considering he had a match to continue today, or more like an innings to do justice to, an innings to make things right again. The absolutely terrific team bonding he had presented from deep within him last night was enough to make him aware of the fact that damage control was going to be extremely tough today, both on and off the field.

On the field would be slightly more difficult, though how would he do that by sitting in the pavilion after his amazingly spectacular performance in yesterday's innings was something Shubman from two hours later should worry about, he decided. 

A quick shower, some sportswear bordering cozy home clothes, and a hair fixing session filled with cursing his past self because why did he think growing out his hair was a nice decision later, Shubman found himself waiting for the elevator to arrive to his floor. 

Like all other tournaments, most of Shubman's team had been deposited on his floor, though due to limited numbers of rooms per floor, some of the members lived on the floor above them, on Ishan's team's floor too. Shubman had thought in the beginning while looking into the room assignment that maybe he should take one on his friend's floor for... reasons unknown to him but had refrained with the excuse of not wanting Ishan to, very plausibly, think he was too clingy or whatever it was that the other hated as a quality in a friend.

Shubman wanted them to be cordial, not overly affectionate and/or suffocating, whichever case worked. 

The thing about sharing the same floor as his team, though, was that while accessing his players was super easy, they were all one or two or a couple more doors down the corridor from him, meaning he could stay up as late as he wanted with them with no problem of going to his room alone in the dead of the night, there was also this fact that he would always end up meeting them on the way to or back from the elevator.  

Often times than not, they ended up sharing the same lift so the possibility that his team, his currently very mad and very disappointed in him team might also be in the lift lobby along with him, waiting for the same elevator, was something he should have considered and known was bound to happen. 

Shubman had thought he had time. Naïvely so, but he had genuinely thought he had time until after the breakfast to get himself together and think of ways of making it up to his team off the field. It was a crazy thing to achieve, he knew that considering the obvious fact that none of his teammates had stayed behind last night, not even to scold him more, but he also knew that for the better functioning of the team and their performance as a whole in the rest of the tournament, it needed to be done. ASAP. 

Though, the timeline for Shubman's ASAP tended to differ in accordance with his reluctance to have the particular conversation.

Awkwardly, he mumbled out greetings for the members present in the lift lobby, anticipating... he didn't know what he was expecting to be honest. 

Basil, Shreyas, Aniket, Rajat (the '93 liners), along with Diwesh and Jalaj, the oldest members, looked at him at the same time, as if they were deliberately coordinated, though the expressions that took over their faces once they realized that it was him who had greeted them certainly weren't.

The same age group people scoffed lightly and turned back to face the lift, shutting off any and all advances from him to make amends effectively.

Diwesh and Jalaj weren't that cold-hearted, they called him over to stand with them when they saw how fidgety he was being, thought only a limited amount of friendliness was present in their actions, as though they were still wary of him.

It made sense, Shubman knew it did, he hadn't given them a lot of reasons to trust him on any grounds but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Keeping his mouth shut after that, he silently rode the elevator down with the other six people as they continued chatting as if he were invisible. Some attempts to include him were made, but immediately shut down by one of the '93 liners. Serves him right, he supposed.

Once he was in the safety of the big dining hall bustling with other players of his team and that of others as well, he felt a bit better, because the scrutiny was off him for the time being, until, of course, someone would notice that he was up and about now and start terrorizing him to no end. Shubman knew, given the massive crowd of players occupying the hall, that it would take a good while for the people here to notice him, a good while in which he should hurry the fuck up to finish his breakfast and formulate the best plan to make amends.

When the oldest players invited him to sit with them, more out of common courtesy than any real intention, Shubman declined politely, making his way towards the far end of the hall hidden by the large curtains for the ceiling-to-floor window and put his earphones on for better protection. 

He could have, or more like, should have sat with his team, even if they didn't actual want him to, even if he just didn't actually feel invited despite their persistent requests. Shubman knew he could have dealt with whatever animosity he might have had to face if he had sat down with them, years of being on the receiving end of varying degrees of such aggravating glances made him ready for that and furthermore, for the overall image of his team, it didn't look right that a captain was sitting alone when his entire team sat together, that too on a match day.

Shubman knew all of this and still declined because there was this thing inside of him called self-respect and it just didn't sit well with the pity he knew his (some of his) members were showing him. 

He had been in the middle of cutting into his paratha, mindlessly complaining to himself about his increasingly concerning consumption of curd because he was still only one and a half parathas down and already, it was about to finish, when his phone rang, coach's name flashing threateningly.

Picking up the call with some hesitation, he wondered if his teammates were kids enough to tattle off about him, though shot down the thought out of his mind as quickly as it came. He might have been, but his teammates were certainly not children.

"Gill," The coach's voice sounded grave and immediately Shubman's mind went on wide alert, "There's a... pro-no, an... uh, an issue."

"What is it?" He demanded. No use in prolonging the issue by indulging in his coach's reluctance to share. After all, the older man had called him.

"There was rain again last night, and, well..." He trailed off, but Shubman knew better.

"We can't play today?"

"Yeah."

Shubman was pretty sure his ears were ringing; his throat didn't feel like it would work just seconds after his coach's confirmation. He knew this was a very plausible situation, it was monsoon, and they were in Bengaluru, the weather here was anything but consistent or predictable. They had been warned about this earlier as well, hardly managing to get the first day of the first match out of the way, so Shubman knew it should have been expected, but... but... but then suddenly words were escaping his unprepared mouth, and he didn't even know how his brain was functioning again.

"That's bad. Does the team know?"

The ringing in his ears stopped, giving way to some hearing issue that made him fell as thought there was something stuffed in his ears. Removing his earphones for better hearing clarity, the muffled noise from the outside world didn't exactly get better for his current predicament like he had hoped, leading him to believe that it might just have been a Shubman specific problem. But still, he tried to listen to what his coach was saying next. 

"No, no, I just got off the call with the officials."

His senses heightened by the incoming of a very clear episode he could feel spreading through his body but, someone was approaching him from his left, it was clear to him for some reason, though figuring out who was it was beyond his comprehension at that moment.

The fact that he could tell it was a human being and towards his left had to have been an achievement in itself, a clear indication that he hadn't lost himself completely yet. 

"Oh, okay. So, what's the game plan here then?"

Footsteps, heavy footsteps, brought his focus back to the hall, the weird blanket swept over his ears which was blocking out the outside noise finally getting removed for some unreal reason and he startled as he looked to his left to see the last person he wanted to meet right now.

Before his new and currently unwanted company could even open their mouth to utter a word though, Shubman was pushing a finger onto his own lips, a silent message hidden in the action. Not now.

"I was thinking of having a meeting with the team. This way we'll get to discuss yesterday's performance as well."

Yeah, that was the last thing Shubman thought he needed right now. A meeting with the entire team present, the team where half the members didn't want to face him, and the other half simply didn't trust him enough to be anything more than passively cordial with him. Shubman didn't know which half hurt more but what he did know was that this meeting needed to happen at least until he had formulated and acted upon a fool proof plan to get on his team's good side again.

"Yeah, no, that sounds nice." It so didn't. "But I was thinking, why not give everybody some time to rest and analyze their own performance before we, you know, have an entire meeting about it?"

The person next to him was getting impatient, that much was obvious. And Shubman probably should have cared, because theirs was one of the names in the long list of people he still needed to make it up to, apart from his team of course. But as he listened to his coach ponder upon the suggestion made by him, Shubman knew he had more important things to focus on.

"Are you sure, Gill?"

Shubman did pause for a second there.

Sure, he knew the excuse he had given his coach to conduct the meeting later was true, the players did need as much time as possible to review their time on the field before people like their coach start grilling them a new one, but there was also this fact that all of this came up to his mind after he had decided that he needed this meet to not happen right now. After he had convinced himself that nothing good would come out of having the meeting at that instant.

The reason he gave the coach was in the team's favor, yes, but why he wanted to convince the other of the same wasn't exactly in that direction, now, was it? It was simply and purely because Shubman didn't think he could handle a full team meeting right now. 

He knew he was selfish, had always been, but was this taking it too far? What if someone could actually have benefitted from having the meet before they were to review their performance on their own? Shubman's way was different, but it didn't exactly have to be correct. 

Did thinking this way make him a bad captain?  

Before he could debate on this, though, coach was talking again, "Actually, you know what? I can't have the meeting right now anyway; team officials have called us for some discussion about potential postponements."

Oh. That wasn't good, not at all.

"Okay, no issues, coach. You do that and I'll..." He trailed off, looking fugitively at the person beside him still standing there as if they had nowhere else to be.

"You do me a favor and inform the team, yeah?" No, no, no. This couldn't be happeni-- "I'll get going then. Bye." It was so happening.

Shubman waited for a few seconds still, secretly hoping that coach hadn't actually cut the call and would come back to tell him that he didn't have to tell the team on his own, all by himself. He waited but he knew what wishful thinking felt like and resignedly pulled the phone away from his ear. 

Sighing deeply as he got up from his chair, the drag of it against the carpet making him wince, he picked up his half-eaten breakfast, appetite long gone and turned to leave when a hand caught his elbow.

He had, honest to God, forgotten about Ishan for a second. 

Turning back swiftly, he managed to get his elbow to be free but then Ishan was stepping into his personal space and Shubman didn't have it in him to walk away so rudely after that.

"What happened?"

It just occurred to him suddenly then, that ever since he and Ishan had started talking again during this tournament, all Ishan had ever greeted him with was asking Shubman what was wrong or something along those lines. There had been some anomalies, sure, but the majority of the time Ishan would just be confirming if everything was alright with Shubman, as though... as though he thought something was always wrong with him for the past two-three days they had been talking face-to-face again.  

It was a very trivial thing, friends do that all the time, you don't always have to greet someone politely before launching into whatever problem you want to talk to them about and Shubman had enough social and common sense to know all of these facts.  

But at the same time, he had never explicitly wanted to talk to Ishan about his problems too. 

All this while, it had just so happened that every time he had been in a need of help or advice or just someone to listen to him, Ishan had been there, sometimes even without him knowing that Shubman needed any help at all. And the latter appreciated it, he really did. He appreciated and was extremely grateful for his friend, the only one he had in the league, the only one he trusted, for always being there for him, for not getting upset with him even when Shubman knew his behavior was bordering disrespectful, and actually putting him in his place if he did end up acting too bratty for Ishan's taste (his words, not Shubman's).

He was grateful, but again, he had never asked for it.

And the fact that Ishan was still here, being a good friend, being the best person in the world when all Shubman could think about was the fact of how he had fucked it all up with his friend without taking any responsibility, how Ishan hadn't asked him to explicitly admit it still; how he had been a bad captain for his team, and how some of them still wanted to eat with him and how he questioned their worth on the field but still, no one once pointed a finger at his far less than good performance, and ultimately, how only he tended to be the bad guy in every wrong situation possible, made him angrier than anything.

It was complete and utter irrationality, but Shubman was stepping back from the suffocating presence of his oh so nice and godly friend and turning back around to leave. The only good thing he could do now was to leave before he might end up giving Ishan all the more reasons to be upset from him. 

"Shubm--"

"Not now, Ishan." He gritted out and left, and even Ishan didn't stop him this time.

If he felt the sharp glances and glares straight up bordering dangerous from (some of) his teammates, he pointedly ignored them.

Dropping a text on the group chat formed for the team, to inform them about the no play for day two of the match, Shubman spent the rest of the day inside his room, leaving only when his food delivery arrived.

No one visited him, not once.

---

(day 3)

Are you okay? 06:32

"Why are we here?"

Day three was also a no play day. The rain just wasn't relenting.

The meeting Shubman had been dreading, the meeting with the entire team present to discuss their 112 runs on forty nine overs with six wickets gone and how the fuck they had managed to score even this much if none of them actually wanted to play that day, and everything else starting from the fact that both the teams have now lost an inning each to no play days, and ending at the very possible situation of a draw being declared if no play continues tomorrow, that is, the day four or the last day of the first match.

This was why they were here, by the way.

Here meaning the meeting room Shubman had first come to soon after his flight had landed, two days ago. That time feels so far away suddenly, what with everything that has gone down since then and Shubman had a weird urge to chuckle then.

He stifled it, of course and focused on the room he was in again.

Coach stood at the head of the round table, occupying the biggest chair available in the room. It had been a common consensus amongst the team to let him have that, considering they didn't really have any other variation of the chair to leave any room for discrimination.

Shubman sat on his left, while half of his team sat opposite him and the other half adjacent to him. There had been some grumbles in the midst of everyone settling down on their seats, some players not being quite respectful about their not-so-hidden dislike of him, though Shubman knew better than to indulge in that. Coach still didn't know the stunt he had pulled yesterday and day before yesterday, so it was better to not get him involved.

Tushar had greeted him first today, and there had been a follow up conversation as to why Shubman had missed all the meals since breakfast yesterday, considering it was evening now, to which the latter couldn't really reply because Shreyas was rudely interrupting the chatter around the room with his question then.

Coach looked surprised by the slight aggressiveness in the player's voice but replied nonetheless, "We are here to discuss our plan of action."

"Plan of action for what?"

The older man looked at Shubman pointedly then, and he sighed, standing up from his very comfortable perch on the chair. "Plan of action for moving ahead considering the fact that tomorrow could be announced as no play too."

"But," Anmolpreet questioned, "what if it's not?"

"Then Green team catches up to a target of 113 and our bowlers and fielding need to be the best we can have."

A slight pause, before, "And what if it is?" Tushar asked from next to him, smirking lightly as chuckles resounded in the room at the obvious question.

Shubman sighed again, though a smile was forming on his face too, "Then it's a draw and both teams get one point each."

It was the most pointless outcome the officials could have given them, in Shubman's opinion because while their team had played one inning batting and the other had played one bowling the first day, nothing about the scores and points from that day had indicated towards the fact that if no innings happened after that, both teams had done enough to deserve a point each. This was clearly unfair to India Green, but Shubman knew that the other alternative to announcing a draw would be a rematch on some later date, something the officials couldn't afford right now, not in the sense of time.

"Meaning either way, we have a lot to lose." Murmurs of agreement floated around the room and coach glanced at Shubman once before he was trying to calm the players a bit.

"It's not exactly losing if we already work hard for our next match against India Red."

Ah, yes, Shubman had completely forgotten about that itty-bitty detail of their match schedule. He and Ishan were to play against each other in three days from now and Shubman still hadn't talked to the other after he blew him off quite rudely at the breakfast yesterday.

He tried not to think about that right now though, because, again, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"I don't understand," Shreyas got up again and Shubman wanted to groan, "why organize a meet for just some speculation regarding things we have no control over? You could've just formed a plan of action on your own and asked out dearest captain here to pass it on to us via a simple text on the group chat again."

"Gopal." Ashutosh warned quietly and thankfully, this time Shreyas listened.

Shubman winced lightly though, as coach turned to look at him incredulously at the mention of his cowardly act. The right timing, ain't it?

A text? He mouthed, clearly surprised.

"I'm sorry." Shubman muttered, but he knew Coach heard him as he shook his head disappointedly a couple times before turning back to the team.

At his murmur, Tushar sitting next to him nudged him once, but he shook him off, not really in the mood of another half ass attempt at a conversation.

"This meet is not only to discuss about the happenings of certain possibilities in the next few days," Shubman decided to quit acting like a wimp and take some responsibility off their coach's shoulders, "It's also for the fact that we might not have some decent field practice even during the break before the match with Red and that is something all of us should be worried about."

"No field time doesn't necessarily mean any disadvantage." 

"It does when you have had such a phenomenal first day that even rain doesn't want you going back to the field again." 

Coach glared at the team and Shubman groaned alongside his team as the older man started taking the direction of the meeting to analyze their less than average performance. He hated this part just like any other sportsperson out there, though knowing the importance such guidance had on people's play in general made him sit through it quietly and listen to his coach's assessment for the next hour or so.

---

Notes:

shorter chapter, ending seems abrupt, I know.

dw, another update is on the way, it's just that i couldn't place the two parts together so i thought about getting this out first because the next one is quite heavy.

i'll probably upload that in a couple of hours, so stay tuned!!!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 15: match 1, day 3 & 4

Summary:

Not everything is as it seems to be.

Notes:

I sincerely apologize. that's literally it.

(day 3, contd.)

That night, after having a semi-decent dinner with his teammates on the same table as him, jokes flying all around them even though his participation had been barely there, Shubman felt somewhat better than he had last night.

Sometime during the rest of their meet, Coach had somehow (very deliberately, as he told Shubman later) let it slip that this grilling session they were having had been postponed from day two to day three at the constant and persistent nagging of Shubman to not have their team be scolded so soon, and something about that slip up had effectively... helped him. In some ways.

For example, Basil, one of the '93 liners, had approached Shubman after the meet to willingly discuss some strategy pointers coach had pointed out for him during the meet, Anmolpreet had accompanied him to his room and had actually freshened up there during the small break they had been given before dinner, and Ashutosh had an arm slung around Shubman's shoulders all the while they had been in the elevator to go down to the hall, while everybody talked and jeered around him as though he were, not invisible, but just not participating for the time being.

If he felt a lack of the previously sharp glances and glares bordering dangerous from his teammates during the semi-decent dinner, Shubman refused to feel any pride at that. He still had a long way to go. But all of these changes from just a generic mistake from their coach made him feel optimistic that maybe his teammates really were just a bunch of man-children.

Currently, though, he was standing in front of the lounge room their hotel had situated on the second floor, and looking at, or actually, stalking a very unaware Ishan.

Shubman might not have felt some of the previous animosity from his team after the dreaded all-team meet had happened, but what he did feel was the transfer of those pointed glances from them to his only friend here, Ishan Kishan. And somehow, these glances seemed to bother him more than his team's had.

Ishan hadn't out rightly stared at him, no, not really. The glances had been so precariously timed that Shubman had only felt them when he was sure no one around him was focused on him, as though Ishan knew that having his scrutiny coupled with someone else's was something Shubman couldn't handle and hence, he had gone out of his way to make sure that when he stared at Shubman, it was only him the latter noticed.

This preciseness was so... so... Ishan that Shubman felt a big mountain of guilt and regret fall on his shoulders every time he felt that gaze.

He had meant to talk to the other then, apologize and maybe get some very important facts straight between them because while his outburst on both days had been completely uncalled for, Shubman knew enough to know a lot of it was just misplaced communication between the two boys. Some of it from his side sure, but some of it from his friend's side too.

It was all the sole reason why he was standing here now, waiting for Ishan to finish up whatever nightly bonding session he was having with members from all the teams present, giddily laughing and jumping around with the players, no animosity in his gaze now, whatsoever.

Shubman knew he could have gone in himself. After all, he was a player too and his team was somewhat okay with him now, so it wouldn't have been a big deal. A part of him thought it was cowardly, that despite so many reasons of going in he was still staring at Ishan from the outside like some creep, afraid to go there and face whatever side of him it was that his friend would give him, though a larger part of him knew the real reason, the part which effectively made his feet stay rooted to the ground as he continued staring at Ishan from the outside like a friend.

The sight in front of him was familiar and yet so different that Shubman just didn't want to go inside and disrupt the natural environment Ishan was flourishing in at that instant, because for some reason, he seemed to have forgotten in these last nine and half months of them not meeting in a setting with mutual friends or people around them, that Ishan thrived in social interactions.

There was something so unexplainably alluring about the way he talked, the way he listened to whatever the other person was saying to him with utmost concentration, the way he gazed at his companion while conversing about even the most mundane things one could think of, the way he included everyone around him in the conversation so that nobody felt out of place, and just the way he almost seemed to brighten in a social setting as though it was where he belonged, that Shubman didn't want to take him out of this... no, actually, his world.

Because as much as he didn't like to think about it, didn't like to ponder upon, this was Ishan's world.

He would always be the happy go lucky friend everyone in the league loved to talk to and joke around with and Shubman would always be that player people would rather be cordial and polite to, than have a real conversation with.

It hurt, on some levels, the difference in their comfort zones, but it was the truth. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Faiz was suddenly next to him.

"What?"

The older captain smirked, though something about the cockiness of it was different that night.

"You want me to call him?"

Shubman looked at the man, surprised at having been caught. "Him? Who?"

"Ishan." He shrugged and moved to stand next to him, leaning against the wall opposite the glass door of the lounge like Shubman had been, for the last half hour or so.

"What do you mean?"

Faiz sighed, "You're clearly waiting for him. Want me to go fetch him?"

Shubman snorted indignantly, "Fetch him? What is he, a dog?"

The other captain seemed to ponder on this for a while before shaking his head. "Nah, between the two of you, you're the dog." He leaned in conspiringly and whispered, "His dog."

"What the fuck, Fazal?" Shubman knew he had a habit of following Ishan around sometimes, but that was a thing only privy to him and the said friend. This statement was insulting on so many levels.

"What?" If anything, Faiz looked more amused than usual, "You wanna tell me that if he called your name right now, right at this instant to call you in there with no explanation, you wouldn't go to him immediately, no questions asked?" 

When Shubman nodded, because why the hell did Faiz know this, the latter huffed, clearly not believing, "Yeah, no, Gill. Anyone with eyes can see what influence that guy has on you."

"What do you know anyway?" He asked, annoyed for some reason, "You haven't even seen us together."

When a brow raised, Shubman amended, "Fine, but that was once. It doesn't coun--"

"You freaked out when I so much as held your shoulders, and that too to stabilize you." Faiz interrupted him, putting up a hand when Shubman went to protest, "He literally had you in a chokehold and you were laughing, Gill. I might be the oldest around here, but certainly haven't gone blind yet."

It went quiet after that, as Shubman just looked at the man next to him resolutely, resisting the urge to pout. 

He remembered, of course, the way his body had reacted to Faiz's forceful touch, his entire episode after that, and a full, in-detail summary of his interaction with Ishan in the elevator and after the offending slap ran through his mind and yeah, he could see why Faiz would say such a thing. The obviousness of it all left Shubman baffled for a second before he was sighing and turning back to look at his still completely unaware friend. 

"People don't even know we're friends." He grumbled then, but didn't correct the older captain.

It was the truth anyway; Ishan had some weird influence on him that even Shubman couldn't justify at times. It had been established the same time Shubman knew he trusted the older enough to go out of his way to ask him to be his friend. Why it was so, when it happened, how long will it last for, he didn't know. But the influence was there, and he had long since given up on trying to deny it for himself. Other people were a different matter though.

"That's because you don't talk to each other."

"Uh, but we do?"

Faiz laughed, "Yeah? When? Because in the last few days, the number of times I have seen you guys interact is..." he trailed off deliberately, letting Shubman hang onto his words in anticipation before flicking his forehead so hard that it actually hurt, "one, idiot. That's how friends behave in your opinion?"

Shubman groaned lightly, rubbing the sore spot that hurt like a bitch and glared at Faiz. 

There was some glaringly obvious truth in the way Faiz was talking tonight, and Shubman had enough sense to know that the older captain wasn't here to just chit-chat and throw shit at each other, he had a clear motive with the way he was leading the conversation. 

Shubman tried to do what he did best, deflect that is. "Friends don't have to cling to each other."

"There's a fine line between not clinging and full-on detaching from each other, Gill. You need to figure that out before it's too late."

He went to open his mouth then, to defend himself, to tell Faiz he was wrong in saying that Shubman wasn't emotionally mature enough to see what was happening, but something about the conviction with which the older captain had said it made him pause for a second there, considering. 

Detaching? Shubman liked to think he knew his actions enough to understand that he wasn't out rightly getting detached from Ishan. That bit was weird and straight out of this world because really, there has to be a bond deep enough to get detached from, you know? Like Shubman and Ishan were friends, sure, and in the beginning of their nine and half months of being friends, the only person the younger knew he could (almost) freely talk to in his entire life had been his first friend in the league. At that point, there had been some attachment from both the sides, in his opinion. 

But then, somewhere around Shubman's debut in the ICT, a few months into their friendship, something had happened, something Shubman still couldn't quite place the origin or beginning of, but it did happen and suddenly, it was just Shubman making efforts to talk, to meet whenever possible, to go out of his way to be with his friend (as much as they could anyway), and Ishan had just been there to say yes. He never said no, not once, but as more instances of this predicament piled up, the younger started believing his inner voice, the one which never sided with him and thought that if given the choice, apart from the burden of being Shubman's only friend, if Ishan were given the choice, he would have said no. Maybe not always, but at some points, he would have.

The fact that Shubman could say that with so much conviction should have meant something. 

And that was the primary thing stopping him now, as he watched his friend with his friends, friends he would say no to without any thought, without thinking they were delicate enough to not survive him saying no to them, and it hurt Shubman's pride more than he cared to admit. 

After whatever had transpired within him at that point, months into their friendship, Ishan started treating him as though he were something that could be broken easily, and Shubman had too much ego and fear to confront the other about it. 

Moving away from this line of thought, because really, this shouldn't have seen the light of the day ever, Shubman thought about something else that stood out to him from the older captain's words.

Before it's too late, Faiz had said. Before it's too late for what? For Ishan to stop being his friend, for them to figure out that their worlds were too different for them to work out whatever problems they were facing because of it, for Shubman to finally break and end up confronting Ishan about his special treatment and Ishan to then decide he was too much work, and for them to grow apart? All of this was already going on in his mind for the last two days of them not talking to each other, so it didn't affect him, not anymore. 

The only thing about it that did affect him was the increasing possibility of any of these scenarios happening.  

Faiz remained unaffected when Shubman started speaking after a while, "I don't have an opinion though." He paused, rephrasing when he realised it might have been too cryptic for Faiz to understand him, "Because I don't know how friends behave, like at all. I have never had a friend in the league before. It's all so... new for me."

When the older captain didn't seem weirded out by his admission, Shubman relaxed, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, elbows hanging around knees as he continued staring at his friend through the glass door, "We have been friends for months now, and yet when you asked us that day, I told you we just used to be roommates. I just couldn't get it out, you know?" He made a sound akin to a chained animal, "Like the word was there, I know we are friends, but it just got stuck inside and nothing came out. It's pathetic, I know. But it's..."

He hesitated, not because Faiz was sliding down the wall alike him or because he thought this all was too personal to share with the older captain.

For some reason, ever since he had met Faiz, nothing about the guy seemed overtly evil to Shubman, as though telling him all this was a grave mistake he was committing. Like sure, the older had irritated the hell out of him initially (and still did to a great extent) but that was all just upper-surface stuff. If anything, Faiz felt like an older version of himself, the same cocky, unaffected vibe he had going, and Shubman guessed this was why they were having this conversation now.

The hesitation though, wasn't because of any of this. Shubman thought it was weird, but the hesitation had been because right at that instant, Ishan had glanced at him for the first time in the last... whatever minutes he had been here for, and it just made this entire exchange with the former's captain all the more real for Shubman.

Faiz waited patiently for him as he continued staring at his friend, the friend who looked surprised at having spotted Shubman at such an inconspicuous place, the friend who took a step towards his direction, almost unknowingly so, as though he intended invite him to this gathering he was clearly enjoying himself in, despite not having talked at all in the last two days, the friend whose light gaze shifted to something else when he saw that Shubman wasn't entirely alone, and the friend who turned back to his company, leaving Shubman to his own, when he realized the latter was comfortable where he was, staring at him from the outside like just... someone, anyone.

"... but it's hurting him, and you don't like that." 

This was the truth Shubman didn't want to admit, not now, not ever. It was one thing to know you were hurting someone, an entirely different one to continue doing it after knowing, and just out of this mere mortal world to actually admit it and then not doing anything to redeem yourself. 

Shubman knew Ishan, knew he was hurting the smaller, knew he should have done something about it long ago, knew it was unhealthy, whatever drama they were having right now. They were professional cricket players, not a bunch of teenage girls fighting over trivial things like you said this to me, so I said this to you and now we're both angry.

Shubman knew all this but again, knowing and admitting were two different hings and the only part he wanted to dabble in for now was somewhere between these two.

He glanced sharply at his company, "Don't put words in my mouth, I never said this."

Faiz shrugged, "But you think it. You know it's true."

"It's not." Shubman said harshly, "I am not hurting him. He is the one hurting me, can't you see that?"

Controlling his mouth just wasn't his forte, now, was it?

"How?"

It was such a simple word, wasn't it? How was Ishan hurting him? How did Shubman realize it? How did his friend have enough power to hurt him? How was the younger not saying anything about it? How could Shubman focus on his hurt, which was completely based on the theories and internal battles he had within his own mind, when Ishan's hurt was palpably clear in front of everyone's eyes, caused by his very real actions? How was Shubman so selfish? How did they change? How, indeed.

"It doesn't matter."

Faiz seemed to think otherwise. "Why, though? Why is he hurting you, and" The older looked at him pointedly, "if you know it's happening, why are you letting him?"

"Because I don't know any other way!" He burst out, worked up like it was no one's business, "I don't know how to tell him he is; I don't even know if he actually is or if it's just me thinking he is, and I don't..." He gulped, looking down at his feet and the volume of his voice decreased dramatically to a whisper, "... I don't know if he cares enough to stop."

"Do you?" Faiz's reply was instant.

Yes. "I don't know."

The older captain sighed then, and Shubman could see that shake of head from his peripheral vision and yet he couldn't bring himself to care about the other's disappointment in his emotional reservedness. 

"Why do you even care?" He asked, dejected. 

Shubman had initially thought that Faiz was here to make sure he didn't do anything to affect Ishan's performance in the upcoming Blue vs Red match they were to have in three days. It made sense, Faiz was the captain and something about their interaction earlier might have seemed problematic enough for him to come talk to Shubman like this, all by himself.  

It all worked out, but then Faiz was talking about his inner dilemmas regarding this friendship, and the younger was forced to wonder how did that affect Ishan, and in association, the Red team? All Shubman knew was that Ishan was upset with him, he will apologize before their match, and they will be okay. 

This hurt he had been neglecting for the entirety of their time together since January wasn't even in the equation, let alone in his mind until Faiz had forced him to think about it. Why, was beyond him. So really, this detailed conversation leading to some deep introspection begged Shubman to wonder what did the older care about in this drama anyway.

"He's my teammate. You're a young captain. Work out the math."

Shubman scoffed, "There's nothing to work out here, dude. All I can see is you meddling in my business with no reason whatsoever."

"You keep seeing that and I'll see how fast you can lose a friend like him. It'd be a record for sure."

Shubman thought he had finally lost it when he let out a startled laugh at that, and for the first time since he had met the older captain, Faiz actually looked surprised by him. 

Tipping his head towards the glass door for the lounge room, Shubman smiled bitterly.

"He probably wouldn't even notice."

"Do you want him to?"

Of course. "Doesn't matter what I want."

A brief silence followed, spent with Shubman staring at his friend in the lounge room again, the friend who was now acutely aware of the fact that Shubman was there, just outside the door, but making no move of approaching him, before Faiz was standing up and dusting his pants. "Why don't you trust him?"

Shubman startled, looking towards the older captain in a flash, "I do."

"Do you trust me?" 

"No." His reply was firm, no arguments needed. 

Faiz huffed, "Glad to know at least your definition of trust isn't fucked." 

"Why did you ask?" 

The older glanced at him briefly, gaze unreadable. "It just doesn't seem like it to me. Given how you're so dead set on him not wanting you as a friend."

He pondered over it as he too stood up from his comfortable perch, actions following the older captain's for Shubman deemed his stalking creepy enough to stop now. He wasn't going to approach Ishan now anyway, his mind just wasn't ready for it yet. 

"That has nothing to do with me trusting him. I trust him enough to be frank with him," Shubham started listing out, "I trust him enough to have fun around him, trust him enough to ask him to be my friend, trust him enough to meet with him during off season, and yeah," he shrugged abashedly, suddenly realizing he was, quite literally, opening up his thoughts in from of this older man he hated until today evening, "that's it, I guess."

Faiz scoffed then, pushing the up button in the elevator lobby and leaning against it to look at Shubman pointedly, "You trust him so much," weird emphasis on 'so much' but Shubman ignored it for now, "yet you don't trust him to want to be your friend? Or actually, continue being your friend?"

That... didn't make sense.

As the lift doors opened, Shubman said so and was rewarded with a heavy suffering sigh.

Faiz pressed his floor's button and slapped off the younger's hand that went to press his own with a scoff. 

"You're set on making my long night longer, aren't you, Gill?" Confused at first, Shubman made peace with his fate when he realized what was going on and groaned. 

Well, whatever. The night was long for Shubman too.

---

(day 4)

The first match of the tournament did end up being a draw between the Green and the Blue team, for day four was a no play day too. 

Shubman wasn't surprised, it was clear with the way Bengaluru's rainfall density was bordering floods at this point that the optimistically hoping for the second match to happen was most definitely a lot. Still, there had been some rays of sunshine spotted today so maybe all wasn't lost. 

He flicked through the pages of the magazine he was reading, some sports one with cricketers of the current ICT squad posing in various sportswear brand, in a cafe near their hotel, getting breakfast before they were to leave for Alur, the venue for their next matches. The weather there was said to be better than what they were experiencing here, so it made sense why they were moving early in order to get some practice out of the way before the second match would start after the two-day break starting tomorrow. 

Coming to the cafe had been an impromptu decision; he was tired of having the same hotel breakfast for the last few days and decided a change of scenery might help him redo the experience he was taking away from this place, the amazingly awesome experiences Shubman just couldn't wait to forget for once and for all, and this cafe was the closest to their hotel, so the short walk let him clear his mind a bit more. 

Today, he had decided, a long and thoughtful night of tossing and turning in his once comfortable bed after leaving Faiz's with a whole lot of wisdom later, that he was going to apologize to his team. 

The idea had been simple, Shubman had a bunch of things to make right and he knew just thinking about doing it won't miraculously excuse him from not doing them, and he had to start somewhere. Hence why, his team. 

They were already partially okay with him now, considering last night, so all Shubman had to do was show actual, in your face effort and they would be fine. 

He got all the sandwiches and coffees he had ordered for his team packed and ready... and then proceeded to struggle immensely to get them back to their hotel in one piece so that they could safely be distributed to the members who, he was sure, had just woken up enough to board their team bus on time, with no thoughts of breakfast whatsoever. 

The genuine gratefulness on their faces when they realized Shubman had arranged for their morning meal, completely unprompted, fueled him to stand in front of aisle leading to their seats in the bus as everyone got busy wolfing down their respective food of choice, in order to address the big elephant in the room (or bus, whatever) for once and for all. 

"I'd like everyone to please pay attention," he began, palms sweating nervously as he wiped them on his jeans, "this is an important matter I want to discuss, and your cooperation would very much be appreciat--"

"Are you writing an email to us, Cap?" Anmolpreet interrupted him. 

A brief silence followed after that. Shubman himself stood frozen, blinking at his teammate owlishly. To his credit though, Anmolpreet seemed genuinely confused at his use of such formal language and... Shubman tried, he really did, but then he was chuckling and everybody who was once frozen alongside him was laughing and the younger could feel his nervousness melt away somehow. 

"I'm sorry." He began anew, that cursed word (Cap) giving him some of his strength back. 

"First of all, I want to congratulate everybody for moving past the first match of the tournament with no points lost. Sure, the rain did us dirty, we were pretty unprepared for how things escalated during the first and only innings we got to play, but in the end, we emerged with a point and that is what matters. 

"I also want to apologize to you guys, collectively, for how I behaved two days ago. The attitude and the disrespect were totally uncalled for and while I don't want to give any excuses, the only reason I think I did it was because..." he hesitated, stumbling a bit as the bus started moving. 

Nobody said a word, waiting for to finish and Shubman was grateful, "... because I'm not used to taking bad days with a grain of salt. I don't know how everyone else does it, but I can't and so I just... took it out on you guys, I guess."

He shrugged then, looking at them all in the eyes to convey his sincerity. It was hard for him to admit this, had been hard to even think about admitting it but Faiz had very rightly told him last night that unless he was prepared to be vulnerable with his team, he couldn't expect them to understand where he was coming from, and misunderstandings were bound to happen then. 

Shubman thought the older was true as Tushar was the first one to break, coming forward with a small, reassuring smile to hug him. He winced lightly when all of them followed his lead and soon his precarious position near the bus's entrance was transformed into a group hugging session as Shubman tried to breathe as much as he could so as to not get too uncomfortable.

Don't get him wrong, the hug was very much appreciated. Shubman liked the fact that the members were now comfortable with him enough to initiate this contact as a silent acceptance of his fully meant apology. It was just the fact that Shubman didn't like physical contact in general that made this display of affection and respect a bit more complicated than it had any right to be. 

As if sensing his issue, Shreyas, the only one who hadn't joined the hug, came forward and started removing people away from Shubman, everyone protesting against it. He thought initially that the older was protesting against this group hug, that he was against the acceptance of Shubman's apology so easily but then, when everyone asked Shreyas why he was doing this and the older didn't say anything except grumbling childishly, Shubman knew this meant something else.

He was still grateful though, because it meant that he was getting more and more breathing room. 

"You're a bunch of idiots who can't see that he's uncomfortable with hugs. Strangling him like that..." Shreyas muttered as he finally reached Shubman, effectively freeing him of the group hug. 

Oh. He was actually helping Shubman. 

The younger hesitated before extending a hand forward, anticipation killing his nerves. 

Shreyas looked at him, then at his outstretched hand, then back at him and scowled. Shubman held his breath. 

"Oh, come on," Ricky was saying, "stop with this already, Gopal. Cap apologized, it's cool."

A deep sigh and then his hand was being shaken. Shubman tried not to grin too widely. He failed. 

Later that night, after reaching Alur and practicing for the better half of the day, Shubman got to know exactly what his team had planned that fateful night, and he had to admit, his teammates might have been man-children through and through, but they knew how to organize the best relaxing sessions Shubman had ever seen in all his years of playing professional cricket. 

---

Notes:

omg, this guy's gonna kill me someday I'm telling you guys!!!!

why did i have to make him so complicated??? why is he canonically so complicated???? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crying aside, i told you this chapter is heavy af and i hope i delivered some good on that promise.

do lemme know your thoughts on it, I'm genuinely starting to feel like you guys don't like the way the chapters are written rn. There's just no or minimal engagement and honestly, it's kind of a bummer.

I would really appreciate if you could tell me how you felt about anything in this chapter or story or if you think too much is going on, wtv. any kind of interaction works, because it, in turn, helps me write better. so please lemme know what y'all think!!!!

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 16: break, day 1 & 2

Summary:

shit gets interesting!!

Notes:

hey y'all, it's been a while!!!!

If someone were to ask Shubman as to what his least favorite part during a tournament was, he would probably end up scowling and spitting out break with so much contempt that one could very well assume it physically hurt him or something for him to hate it with so much conviction.

There was something so innately boring about the breaks given in between matches, especially during a test tournament because already, the match was dragged on for four to five fucking days and then they just had to give the players a break of a minimum of two days or so, in order to let them rejuvenate for the next match, and just all of this chaos didn't sit well with Shubman's play-centric mind.

Now, don't get him wrong, he knew the break was meant for the players' health concerns and rest only and Shubman appreciated the thought, he really did. But having no play for three out of the total four days of the first match followed by a two-day break which simply meant five days of no stepping inside the field or having that adrenaline drive his mind, body and soul, just didn't make Shubman think that anyone really loved that fact. 

At this point, the officials weren't helping them rejuvenate, they were making them rot more in this unchangeable solidarity from the field. 

Shubman just wanted to play. At all times, without a break.

It was really that simple, and could easily be followed, but sadly, the officials didn't seem to share his sentiments on this ground as well and hence, he was left staring at the ceiling fan in his room at two in the afternoon after a good practice turned to no practice because of... wait for it... RAIN!

He sighed, losing count of the number of rotations the fan was making in a minute once again.

About to restart this mediocre at best task for the umpteenth time to laze around with nothing productive to do, he startled when a series of fast knocks resounded in his otherwise silent room.

"What do you want?" He called out, too tired to bother going to the door and checking who it was.

No response was given to him which made him frown silently, but the knocks didn't stop so at least the intruder hadn't left him. Pity. Shubman wanted no human interaction for the time being, the last few days had given him enough of those to last a lifetime, if he had his way.

Though, there were still a few things he had to make right. Or people, he guessed.

"Who are you?" He asked, unkindly.

"Your doom. Open the fucking door, Gill." Oh, Shreyas.

Shubman groaned, "Leave me alone, I wanna rest."

"We didn't even practice for more than five hours today. How are you so tired?"

"I had to keep you all in check. That took more than half of my saved energy."

"Then restock it and open the door. It's important."

He had a half mind of not answering and ignoring the persistent presence on the other side of his door but then Shreyas was banging instead of knocking on his door and Shubman was robbed off of that choice.

"Fuck off." He growled, trying to suffocate his ears with a pillow so as to not hear the excessively loud thumps on his poor door.

"You're a child," If anything, Shreyas seemed more annoyed and that made the younger feel a tad bit satisfied, "I don't know why they sent me, of all people, here."

Shubman laughed, "It's because you love me. Say l-o-v-e, love, Gopal."

"I can't stand the sight of you, asshole. Open the fucking door, Gill, I'm serious." The slight whine in his voice betrayed the said seriousness.

"What do you want anyway? Why are you here?"

"I'll tell you if you'd open the door."

Shubman, realistically speaking, had two options. And for very obvious reasons, neither of them seemed tempting at all.

He could either continue this like-dislike conversati--banter, whatever, he had going with Shreyas until the older ultimately decided that Shubman was too childish to just accept whatever he wanted him to do. This was the most likely scenario Shubman would choose on any regular day, he hated talking to people but roasting the human population was his way of showing care and of course, he cared about his teammates. 

But today wasn't any regular day, Shubman was bored out of his mind and tired beyond understanding so even bantering seemed too much of a task for his poor vocal cords.

Or, he could simply agree with what Shreyas wanted (just opening his door for now) and forget about dying of boredom all alone in the safety of his single room. This option seemed viable only till the extent of him thinking it was viable. Getting up, going to the door, opening it and listening to what the older wanted and then thinking about it, saying yes ultimately and then following through it, was actually too much work for Shubman on any given day, so doing that today was just not happening.

"But I don't wanna."

There was a beat of silence, and Shubman wondered for a moment if it was this easy.

He didn't think it was, getting a teammate off his back was something he hadn't exceled in yet, but maybe, Shreyas was too short tempered to play this game and continue trying to one up on the annoyance meter with Shubman. So, it looked like the choice was out of Shubman's hands once again on what to do next. He almost sighed in relie--

His phone was ringing.

Anmolpreet's name flashed on the screen and Shubman, despite his head full of warnings for why he shouldn't pick up the call, answered anyway.

"Hey, Singh, what's u--"

"Open the door."

Of course, it wasn't this easy.

"What is wrong with you guys?" He groane-- whined, and there were a couple weird noises from the other line, which made Shubman realize he was on speaker and people were chuckling at him.

His teammates were chuckling at him.

"We just wanna hang out, Cap. Come on, Shreyas bhai volunteered to go and get you, you owe him enough to at least open the door."

Shubman gaped, "What kind of logic is that? I didn't even ask for this." He said at same time Shreyas' outraged squawk came through from the other side of his door, "I did not volunteer. You guys made me come here, fuckers."

"Well, consent is overrated anyway. It's more fun to force people." It was Ashutosh who said that, and Shubman felt kind of concerned for the elder's wife for a second there.

"You don't... actually mean that, do you?" He asked, for precautionary reasons.

The chuckling turned to full on laughing and even Shreyas couldn't hold it in as Shubman's previously silent room filled with his teammates having fun at the cost of his innocence.

Well, whatever. "You guys are the worst. I'm hanging up."

"Wait, wait, wait, Cap, don't hang up. We're sorry." The lingering laughter on the line didn't actually sound like they were.

"Yeah sure, and I'm the best cricketer you've ever seen."

"Okay, we're not that sorry," Ouch. The swiftness with which the amendment came was concerning and insulting to him all alike, "but listen, we have a great plan to have fun, and we want you in it. Just open the door and hear us out, that's all we're asking for."

Shubman sighed. It was thirteen against one. It was a lost cause anyway. 

To add to his misery, Shreyas loosely threatened him from the other side, "Also, remember what happened the last time you refused our plan. We're always right, Gill, you gotta accept that by now."

He just scoffed in turn; it was too soon for that to become a joke but whatever. Threat or no threat, it wasn't like Shubman actually wanted to refuse them again. He was just resisting because this was more fun than immediately accepting whatever they had in mind for fun, given the fact that Shubman knew he wouldn't say no to that even now, after resisting so much.

Maybe Ashutosh was right. Not consent being overrated, God no, but forcing or getting forced was more fun than simple acceptance, maybe. At least as long as it was harmless and unserious, that is--

Shubman groaned the moment this thought crossed his mind as he let a scowling Shreyas inside his room.

Boredom made his mind dumb; God damn it. So much for being concerned about his teammate's mental health.

---

The plan had been simple. For once, Shubman thought he could take his teammates' words for exactly what they were. 

There was no hidden agenda, no hidden details, nothing, for no matter how much he had prodded, the moody teammate sent to him to get him convinced (Shreyas) hadn't broken at all, keeping his stance clear and unbreakable and Shubman felt he could trust the older guy at least this much. Trust his team as a whole this much. 

Considering it was the first day of their two-day break, it made sense why things were kept easy going and not much was planned because alike the salesperson of this plan (for Shubman, Shreyas; for everybody else, Ashutosh) had told them, this fun activity, or outing or whatever it was, was only planned in order to get everybody relaxed enough to let the fun part of it flow as smoothly as possible. 

Once that happened, plans were to be ruined. Drunk idiots weren't exactly known for following them anyway. 

So, long story short, the India Blue team was organizing a get-to-know each other session. For the whole team. In Shubman's room. His very single and very one-person room.

Admittedly, the setting of this plan could have been better, and Shubman had opposed as much as he could with his fair share of arguments, but again, like he said, getting a teammate to get off his back was something he had yet to master, let alone a group of thirteen man-children begging with their best puppy dog eyes on display to convince him to loan his room for, and he says this with utmost seriousness, some very important and crucial team bonding exercises.

Team bonding, my ass, Shubman thought dejectedly as he looked around to see his team members joking around in the cramped spaces of his room, barely fitting in all at once. Every argument of his had been half-hearted, and he thought that was why his teammates were able to get him to accept so easily.

That and the fact that Shubman was firm, not a sadist. 

And hence, this was how he found himself spending the first night of their break playing all kinds of party games with his teammates, people well older than him and certainly older than the age of twenty, in the small space his room could provide when stuffed with fourteen odd sportsmen, well into the age of their physique growing to its maxima. 

It was messy and annoying and crowded as fuck, but Shubman thought he had never had this much fun with a team before, so he guessed it all balanced out in the end.

Maybe, his teammates weren't that much of a nuisance, after all. 

---

"Why are you here?"

His teammates were the biggest nuisance of all time. Shubman would like to take his prior praises back, thank you very much. 

"Excuse me?"

Admittedly, it wasn't the best way to initiate a conversation with anyone, in general, let alone someone you weren't ready to be in even a five feet radius of, but Shubman had never really prided himself in being a person who knew his way around with words. His vocabulary's eloquence was maintained only up to the point where he could mindfully control it. After that, it was a nightmare. Like right now.

But nothing about it mattered at that moment anyway because what did matter was the fact that maybe his teammates had gone mad, and Shubman was most definitely mad at them.

A match into this tournament and he might be faced with the predicament of changing his team to play in the next one scheduled tomorrow because his current team was certainly not suited to play if they thought anything about this altercation in their previously innocent plan was even remotely fun. Not for Shubman, not at all.

Last night had been, fine, okay, it had been fun, and Shubman had really enjoyed himself, which was why when Shreyas had knocked on his door a couple hours after practice today, explaining the deceivingly harmless plan to their captain again, everyone had been overjoyed because while the presence of an outright acceptance had been missing, Shubman hadn't exactly declined it, not after the amazing experience he had last night. 

They had a match first thing tomorrow morning and having fun last night made sense, of course it did, but a night before the match? Shubman knew he should have put his foot down on this, a limit had to be set for such plans and fun nights, and he would have, if he had enough of a backbone to say no to the thirteen man-children he had the responsibility of. 

Yet, he knew he had to do something, and so, he hadn't accepted the plan in its totality for this reason alone. It was his silent rebellion, a candle in the dark. 

His teammates were a bunch of assholes though, so it made sense why they ignored that little detail. Semantics, they had waved it off to. 

Them leaving out a very important and potentially deal-breaking detail for Shubman made sense too and he had to physically control himself from going over to Shreyas and demanding answers. He should have known there was a reason as to why they all had picked Shreyas of all people to go and convince Shubman. Damn it.

The seemingly ignorable altercation his team had hidden from him was inviting the other two teams to hang out and have a get-to-know each other (through alcohol) 'tournament edition'. A promotion to their session and fun time last night.

Sounded fun, didn't it? Shubman thought it was tragically hilarious, because now, not only would he have to talk to the members of the other teams, aka, socialize for God knows who and who knows why, but also, he would have to be in the constant vicinity of the one person he wasn't ready to face yet, who was, very (un)conveniently--

The person he had just bothered looked offended, to say the least. Ah, right. Shubman had forgotten to respond to him. 

"I asked, why are you here?"

Ishan scowled, went to open his mouth and Shubman waited with bated breath for a response, suddenly not understanding why he couldn't control his speech at times like this when it mattered the most, before the other seemed to think of something, something that convinced him Shubman wasn't worthy enough of a reply anyway and he turned back around to leave.

The latter sighed, watching his friend make his way back to where his team was deposited in the dining hall. Faiz gave him a weird look from across the room, Shubman just shrugged.

-- Ishan Kishan, aka his only friend. His currently extremely pissed (rightfully so) at him, only friend. 

Wasn't that just fucking great?

---

"Are you ignoring him?"

Shubman raised his head slowly from where it was rested against his arms on the table he had booked for himself, one in the farthest corner of the dining hall where no one had bothered him for the last... he didn't remember how many minutes.

"Go away," He groaned, looking at the older captain blearily. "I'm tired of talking."

He really was. 

For the last few hours of him having been at this innocent-get-together-turned-full-on-club-partying-thing his own teammates had organized, everyone wanted to talk to him and no, this wasn't Shubman being conceited at all. 

He had trouble socializing with random people, didn't matter if they were the players he was supposed to play against tomorrow or had played against in the first match, but there was only so much he could talk to everyone about before he would ultimately succumb to his omnipresent urge to shut the fuck up and let this throat and mouth rest for an entire eternity. 

"Well, tough luck, Gill. I'm not leaving until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you."

"God damn it, why is everyone so fucking persistent tonight?"

"Weren't you tired of talking?" Faiz asked as he slid into the chair right next to him

Sadly, sportsmen never got the memo of him not wanting to talk anymore clearly, and Shubman didn't have it in him to outrightly deny them. Hence, he went ahead (read: had to go ahead) with entertaining any and everyone who wanted a minute of his time, indulging in all talks of his future, performance, thoughts on certain players, politics, and other things he didn't really remember now because...

... he didn't remember the because as well now. Huh, weird. 

"What are you talking about?" Suddenly, his head felt like it weighed a thousand stones stacked atop each other with the sole purpose of causing Shubman misery and for some reason, he imagined them to be stacked in a very precarious position, the way that seemed uncomfortable to look at or made one scared that it might fall on you anytime. This clever imagery of the stones made him laugh, for reasons beyond Shubman 

"I'm talking about the fact that you still haven't-- wait, what the fuck? What are you giggling for?"

Giggling, Shubman was giggling. Which, again, was weird because he could have sworn the stones had only made him laugh, and not-- ha, the stones. That was very funny image, indeed. 

"What stones? Which image? What are you on about, Gill?"

Oh? Did he say that out loud?

"Yes." Faiz deadpanned. 

Well, that's a shame. 

"Well, that's a--?" Faiz gawked at him, struggling to complete his sentences as though he found Shubman's behavior weird. Shubman scowled briefly, fuck him for thinking bad about him. He was just trying to get by through this night in one piece. He wasn't acting weird or anything. 

Suddenly, Shubman felt like tearing up, glancing at the older captain with hurt eyes. "You think I'm weird," He sniffed, emotional, "don't you?"

"What the-- No, of course, not. I don't-- Gill--I don't--" Faiz stopped abruptly, looking more intently at Shubman's face, "Are you drunk, Gill?" The mere insinuation of this question hurt Shubman more.

"Drunk? Why would I be drunk?" He pouted, offended. "You are drunk, you piece of utter and absolute shit. Going around blaming me like that when it's you who-- who--" Shubman felt so hurt that he couldn't even complete his sentence, clutching at his heart dramatically.  Out of the corner of his very unfocused eye, he thought the two of them had an audience, but he shook that feeling off. 

Faiz groaned, standing up from his perch on Shubman's reserved and booked table. How dare he sit there in the first place when Shubman had it all booked for himself? Fucker. 

"Shubman--"

"Don't call me that." He snapped immediately, very serious. Only his family and friends and Ishan can call him that. Speaking of whom, Shubman started looking about the hall wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of his dear friend. He wouldn't approach him like an idiot like he did earlier, but staring at his friend seemed to have been his favorite pastime lately. 

Faiz looked at him weirdly for a second before brushing it off, "Fine, Gill, please tell me one thing very seriously. Are you drunk?"

Attention back on the captain in front of him, distracting him from the task at hand, Shubman shook his head, very seriously, of course, but the movement caused the stone tower on his head to dwindle and now, multiple parts of his head felt like they weighed a thousand stones--"Damn it, Fazal. My head feels heavy." He groaned, agony bleeding through his voice. 

The older captain scoffed, looking at him condescendingly, "Of course it does. How do you manage to make my nights longer than they're supposed to be, Gill? Just... how?"

Shubman went to answer the question, very seriously, but before he could, Faiz was already on his way to... somewhere, leaving Shubman with the beginnings of his answer unsaid. He whined, the betrayal of the older captain stung, and see? This is why Shubman didn't want to interact with humans ever again. 

They always asked questions, millions of questions, which made Shubman rethink his entire life, but the moment he thought he had the answer to whatever query they had raised; they would just not be interested in his answer anymore. As though his answers didn't hold the value the controversies caused by questioning him did. 

God, Shubman hated humans. Loathed them even. 

Ignoring this trail of bad thoughts, Shubman glanced around the hall once again. Faiz was nowhere in his sight, of course that fucker wasn't, but Shubman dismissed him in a matter of seconds, focusing on the interactions happening around him. Well, happening in a distance from him. 

He could see a few people milling about the big table in the middle of the dining hall, where the dinner buffet was set up, though it didn't look like the players were really into fulfilling their appetite with the food than they were into the colorless liquid being passed around so discreetly that even drunk Shubman could see it. Although, he guessed, his own consumption of the same might have affected his sensitivity towards it. After all, it was this liquid -- alcohol, his mind whispered sluggishly -- sent from the heavens that had helped him get through the night talking, to anyone who wanted, as though it was his second nature. 

A table full of players actually into their meal, and not the alcohol, was the nearest to Shubman and he thought he saw a familiar silhouette in the midst of that crowd, silently munching on his food with no care of the people joking around him. The sight made his stomach churn uncomfortably, because the person looked almost as lost as Shubman felt in the interactions he was currently avoiding like his life depended on it. 

The person might have felt him staring though, because a second later, Shubman found himself looking into the sad eyes of the sad person sitting amidst a crowd of happy people, looking no different than Shubman sitting here, all by himself with a friend upset with him somewhere in this very room. 

He offered the player a small smile, more out of camaraderie than anything, to let him know he understood how it felt to not be understood by those around him even though everything they did was literally the same, but his smile might have been something else because the player was frowning at him suddenly. Shubman winced, wondering if he did something wrong as he helplessly watched the player whispering something to the people around him and slowly standing up,  his eyes not leaving Shubman's for even a second. 

"Here, drink this." Faiz was suddenly back, thrusting something at him with a little too much force. Shubman jerked back, almost flinchingly as a glass of what looked like some transparent liquid was placed in his eyesight. 

He eyed the liquid with great interest, watching as it sloshed around its confinement of its cage and Shubman didn't know why, didn't know how, but some part of him felt as though the liquid called out to him, begging him to help it break its confines and free itself. 

Shubman screamed a little, glad he could understand the poor soul, and started grabbing towards the glass of the liquid, startling the already frenzied older captain. "What the fuck are you screaming about no--"

"Free the liquid!" He shouted, uncaring of his surroundings as he made to take hold of the glass from Faiz. "It's begging for its freedom, you caveman! Free the liquid!" He urged, trying to get his noble point across a now scared Faiz as he adjusted his grip on the liquid's cage. 

"Just what the fuck did you drink, Gill?" The liquid was now spilling over their hands as they both started a tug of war to pull the glass of water -- Shubman heard Faiz speak the name of liquid as water -- towards them. 

It was a petty fight and Shubman thought he had almost won. He could see how cautious Faiz was being in the midst of it all, constantly trying not to pull to hard or glancing around the small crowd forming about the two of them, and while this unwanted delicateness would usually piss Shubman off, he figured he could endure this if it meant for the water trapped inside the horrible confinements of the glass to be free. 

This was his sacrifice as the great hero of the water, saving it from the cruelty Faiz was putting it through.  

"Why are you doing this, Gill?" The older captain whispered to him, clearly unsettled, "You're causing a scene."

Shubman gaped, "I'm causing a scene?" The audacity! "You're trapping away innocent liquids in these little cages and I'm causing a scene?"

Infuriated, he thought he had had enough. How dare Faiz go around blaming him like that? It was time to unleash his everything, Shubman decided. 

In one last attempt to take the water to its ultimate freedom, Shubman growled and used all his drunken strength to snatch the glass from Faiz's bad, cruel hands and swung the glass away from the older captain so he couldn't reach for it. Shubman finally saw what his efforts reaped when the water flew out of the glass, making a beautiful rainbow-ish effect in the dimmed lights of the dining hall, before gracefully and slowly, as if in a slow-motion, landing onto--

Oh. 

Oh, shit. 

A heavy silence followed the epic battle of good (Shubman) vs evil (Faiz) and although the former wanted to bask in his victorious glow, he knew something was very, very wrong in that instant. 

From somewhere behind him, Faiz whimpered lightly, and Shubman would have laughed, if they were under normal circumstances, for Faiz, a twenty-something man and the captain of his own team, fearing this... this angry small man in front of him was hilarious, even to a sober Shubman. And that was, in itself, saying something.  

But even as drunk as he was, Shubman knew that this angry small man wasn't any ordinary angry small man, because as he slowly raised his head, letting several droplets of (the now free-- not the time!) water drip down the entirety of his hair, face and collar of the shirt he was adorning, the glare on his face was enough to shake the very core of Shubman himself. 

He was barely holding on to the slight shred of self-control which made him not whimper alike Faiz, for now, but he knew there was only so much his drunk mind could control before he would be cowering from this angry small man too. The size difference was comical, so was the power imbalance.

Faiz, gripping the back of Shubman's t-shirt with his entire strength, mumbled lightly-- or at least tried to, because before anything could get out of his throat, the angry small man was glaring past Shubman to the third party involved in the grave act and Shubman cheered internally, happy to have the attention off him for the time being. 

Another whimper resounded in the suddenly empty hall, everyone waiting with bated breath for this... this man with a deadly glare to say something. Distantly, Shubman wondered if he was really feeling sleepy or it was just the stone tower on his head. 

A couple of minutes in more tense silence went by, with both him and Faiz counting down the seconds before the ultimate blowout. As the water making its way through the entirety of this person's body stopped its journey, the angry small person finally growled. 

"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?" 

Wait, was that-- "Ishan?"

Oh boy, this night was going to be so long.

---

Notes:

a fortnight after the last update... how does it feel y'all?

before anyone thinks otherwise, no, I'm not abandoning this fic, yes, i was in the middle of a (very undesired) writer's block, and yes, the updates can be scarce, moving forth now.

I'd like to remind everyone that I have a life outside of writing and it gets stressful 99 times out of 100, so it's hard for me to write consistently. Not to mention the time and sheer creative energy writing drains out of me, making it difficult for me to write anything mediocre and post it for the sake of regular updates.

That all being said, please be assured that I have the entire storyline of at least the first book all sorted out, and I will complete it, even if the updates span over weeks or months. This pair, ishman, have now become real close to my heart and every time I write about them, I feel instantly good. Also, the reader's feedback helps me feel nice about my writing, so it's a win win for me whenever I update, it's just the I literally can't sometimes, the times don't allow it.

I'd like to thank all of you guys for being patient with me and rest assured, please be certain that I will complete this fic, and do this pair justice.

love, lavanya <3

Chapter 17: match 2, day 1

Summary:

Shubman finally, FINALLY, thinks. God save this child.

Notes:

ummmmmmm, I'm just going to let you guys get into the chapter. hehe, enjoyyy

ALSO, (A/N -there's a line that ends with Shubman didn't want to stop living. It is not to be taken in the true sense of it, it's a metaphorical thing. He is not thinking about not unaliving himself, thank you)

(break cont.)

Some people think being drunk is freeing. It gives you the courage to say things you can never otherwise, to move around in a sense that allows you to be your true self without the inherent sensitiveness you have for an odd watchful eye in soberness, and just be the person you know you are deep down, beneath all that façade you create for yourself so as to not let the society get to your core.

Others think being drunk is constraining, you have a weird sense of awareness that you're drunk, when in actuality your body doesn't give two fucks about the slowness it finds itself functioning in. You try to be more cautious of your actions, to not let the wrong thing slip—because you're drunk, so it can happen—but end up doing that anyway because, again, you're drunk, so it has to happen.

There's only so much alcohol a brain can defend itself against before succumbing to the pleasure of not giving a fuck.

Somewhere between these two extremities lie people who think being drunk is neither of the above and is just a feeling people should experience at least once in their lives. To let loose, to live a little.

Shubman thought being drunk was... just being drunk. All these theories surrounding the concept of drunkenness didn't sit well with him. Like why would a normal, sane, drunk person put so much thought into what being drunk was like, you know? Just be drunk and do... drunk things.

He looked behind him to ask Faiz what he thought about the intricacies of the human mind and how being drunk sort of negates those same very complexities, when he saw that the older captain had left his safe haven from behind Shubman to now arrange some dry towels and tissues for the angry, small man in front of them as everyone in the party suddenly had enough conscience to help out the soaking person who wasn't even that soaked, in Shubman's very humble opinion, but was still shivering like a wet dog due to all the wat—

"Ishan?"

Oh? Shubman's friend was here! The only one he had, the one who wasn't exactly talking to him right now! When had Ishan come though? Shubman could have sworn there had been a very angry, small man standing in front of him a second ago, but now his friend was here. How? Did Ishan know magic?

"Do you know magic?"

Ishan looked up at the sound of his voice and raised a brow in question as he paused in his frenzy to wipe the excessive fluid on his being. 

"Gill," Faiz muttered as he ushered more players around them to help Shubman's friend. Why couldn't Shubman do that? He was perfectly capable of helping his small friend. He moved forward to do just that when Faiz left Ishan's side to grip the front of Shubman's t-shirt in haste and started to push him back a little, "Please shut up, for the love of God, please don't do this—"

"What?" He whined, trying to free himself, "Get off of me, Fazal. I wanna help Ishan, he's all wet and the air con's on so he'll catch cold." He struggled some more, movement sluggish as his brain became heavier and heavier by the second, "Why is he so wet anyway? Did he just take a shower?" He gasped, disbelieving, as he glanced at Ishan, "With his clothes on? Why?"

"Faiz," Shubman heard a light murmur, "Please take him out of here." 

Faiz nodded, struggling with a suddenly very active Shubman as he tried to fight the fatigue spreading through his body. "Did he say something, Faiz? Take who out of here? Tell me! Faiz, tell me—"

"He's talking about you, Gill, please," The older captain pleaded, still pushing him away from his friend, "let's talk in your room, I'll explain everything there, but please, let's just go from here."

"But I don't want to!" Shubman shouted, stilling everyone around him. "I want to stay here!" He stomped his foot for extra measure.

The sudden silence around him was a bit unnerving because Shubman had never been good with being the center of attention, but Ishan was looking at him in the eye now so he figured he could do this. Pointing towards his friend, he continued, "I want to help Ishan because he has a match to play against me tomorrow, so I don't want him all sickly and weak for that. He's so wet for no reason, which is weird, but I still want to help." 

"He took a shower." Faiz muttered, trying to catch his eye. "I told you I'd explain everything later but please, let's leave now Gill."

"In the middle of the night?" Shubman asked, shocked beyond words, "Wha—Did you not tell him we have a match tomorrow? Why would he take a shower in the middle of the night? What is wrong with hi—"

"What is wrong with me?!" Ishan interrupted him, seething, "I should be asking you that, asshole! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck do you think you're doing throwing water at random people in the middle of a goddamn party, Gill?!" The volume of his voice made Shubman flinch a bit. "A party your team organized the night before your match, by the way."

"Ishan," Faiz warned as the smaller guy kept coming closer to the two captains. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what, Cap? Don't call him out on his idiocy? His stupidity?" He scoffed, finally in front of Shubman as they stood close to each other, toes touching toes. 

In all the time of them being friends, Shubman had never had any issue of Ishan being all up in his personal space, because he was Ishan and he loved everyone's personal space, brushing him off almost never worked, so Shubman just got used to them being close at all times, but for some reason, this occasion made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was the harshness his friend seemed to radiate like an aura, so unlike the sweet Ishan Shubman had known all this time. Or maybe it was the glare filled to the brim with disgust the other had aimed his way that made all this so foreign for Shubman. 

His head felt as though it would combust any moment but still, he didn't break eye contact with the smaller even for a second. 

"My stupidity?" He muttered, "What are you talking about? What did I do?"

"Oh, so now you act innocent." The volume of Ishan's voice had dropped down too as their proximity increased but given how close the crowd around them had assembled, Shubman knew without a doubt that everyone could hear everything they had to say to each other. 

"Why? Not so brave anymore, huh? Wait, why are you still talking to me?" Ishan widened his eyes, looking around mockingly, "Isn't it midnight for you now, Cinderella? Don't you wave me off at this point and run away with your tail between your legs? To sort your priorities? Your captaincy? Is this how your captaincy works, anyway? Drunk out of your mind a night before the match." He practically spat out.

"I don't understand." Somewhere in the back of his mind though, Shubman knew he did.

"Of course, you don't, when do you ever?" To make matters worse, Ishan didn't look surprised even for a second at Shubman's blatant lie. His tone was bitter. "It's not like you've been brushing me off like lint for the past few days only to run off to your beloved team and create problems there too." 

He paused for a second, as if he only just realized the crowd around them. There was a slight hesitation on his face for the first time since he started this altercation, and Shubman willed him to act on this hesitation and drop this for now. Or maybe deal with this matter when they were, you know, alone and not in the vicinity of almost all members of the tournament. 

Ishan did neither, "And then, when I come back to make you feel better, without expecting any apology or any invitation from you because, newsflash Gill, that's what friends are supposed to do, you do what?" before he was stepping away from Shubman and talking to the crowd as though this was an audience interaction, "Anyone have any guesses?" Rolling his eyes exaggeratedly, he spoke again without waiting for a response, "Actually, that was a stupid question. It's practically a pattern at this point." He scoffed bitterly and the glint in his eyes scared Shubman down to his core. 

Retracing his steps back to get into Shubman's personal space, Ishan muttered furiously, "You brush me off again to go ahead and make amends with your team, have a happily-ever-after with them while leaving me off to the side like a fool who was stupid enough to think you could actually be capable of having a friend!" 

A collective gasp echoed around them as Shubman watched Ishan breathe heavily after his outburst, before angrily snatching the towel from Faiz and storming off. Literally storming off, with the furious steps and a strong will to get away from his 'friend'. 

Shubman thought he should do something then.

Maybe go after Ishan, talk to him and get him to answer why he hated Shubman so much, so suddenly, when only a few months ago, they were so close to each other. Ask him why he wasn't patient with Shubman anymore, why he started taking Shubman's words at face value just like all his previous teammates had, why did he change so much during that fateful month of January, why none of Shubman's over the top efforts to keep contact with him during these past few months were visible to him anymore and just, what can Shubman do now to make everything better? Make everything the way it was, back in October last year?

"Gill, you're..."

But, Shubman thought bitterly, that was the point, wasn't it? That was the point Ishan was trying so hard to make. That Shubman didn't know anything on his own. That he couldn't resolve his conflicts without having a third party make him see where he went wrong and tell him what to do next. That Ishan was tired of being patient for him, tired of spelling out everything for Shubman to understand in a child's language and just, tired of being Shubman's friend. 

"... crying. Hey..."

Well, that was bound to happen. Wasn't Shubman saying this to Faiz a couple days ago too? That he knew the expiration date to his and Ishan's friendship was confirmed the moment Ishan had said yes to being Shubman's friend?

"Gill, come on, man, look at me."

He sniffed loudly, only then finally returning to reality to see that most of the players around him were frozen in a similar fashion, not knowing what to do next or how to deal with whatever had just transpired between the two supposed "friends".  Faiz was in front of him, waving his hands worriedly to get Shubman's attention and sighing loudly the moment he realized Shubman was back from his reverie. 

"I—" His voice cracked and everyone around him collectively winced. Shubman never hated himself more than in that moment. "I need to—" He cleared his throat loudly and had an odd sensation that something fell on his hand, something wet. "I need to go, I have that... that..." Struggling to make a plausible excuse, he looked at Faiz desperately, begging him to do something, anything to help Shubman out in that one moment. 

Faiz, being responsible and understanding, just nodded and turned around to address the crowd that has formed around them. "You guys, the party is over. Everyone needs to be in their rooms in the next," making a show of checking his non-existent watch, he paused before saying, "5 minutes. If I find anyone out after that, you're not going to like what I'll do. Now move."

When everyone hesitated, to stay back and help Shubman or to watch what happens next in the drama, Shubman didn't know, Faiz just clapped loudly, catching everyone's attention again, "I said now, young men. Move it." 

Understanding the seriousness of the situation or just getting plain scared of the usual calm and friendly Faiz behaving so strictly, everyone scurried away and in the next minute or so, just Shubman and Faiz remained in the hall, colored lights dancing over them in the otherwise dark room. 

"You good, Gill?" Faiz asked him 5 minutes later, after making sure that everyone had, in fact, been deposited to their respective rooms. 

Shubman just looked at him, gaze lost and full of anguish. He couldn't really answer that question, not now when his mind was still so fucking foggy that he couldn't really fully process what happened in the first place, but still only knew that he had fucked up, beyond measure, when he could feel his entire world just falling apart in front of him but knew that he had a match to play tomorrow, a match against his 'friend', when he wasn't even sure how could his conscience still think of Ishan as his friend, or worse yet, that Ishan might still want to be his friend. 

Faiz, bless that human, understood, again, just said, "Don't fuck up tomorrow's innings."

When Shubman made a questioning noise, because that wasn't what he thought they should be talking about right now, Faiz just shrugged and left him to his own devices in the room that had just held the grand meeting of Shubman's mistakes finally catching up to him, but not before saying, "If I were you, I'd play tomorrow's match with everything I have. More so than usual. That's what he would want anyway." 

Shubman thought, the only clear thought in his mind for once that night, that he could do at least this one thing for Ishan anyway.

---

(match 2, day 1)

To say that the atmosphere in the bus next morning was tense would be... a gross understatement. 

Shubman resisted the urge to sigh loudly just so there'd be at least some sound in his otherwise quiet surroundings. He could literally feel people's breath held in a way as though they were expecting him to burst any minute. Shubman didn't exactly trust himself to, you know, not break his carefully built composure and just go back to his room and cry for hours, but his team needed him.

("You gonna be okay play today, Cap?" Jalaj had asked him, when Shubman had finally arrived at the bus pickup late, having missed breakfast to avoid a certain someone. 

Shubman had just looked at him listlessly and muttered, "Didn't think I had a choice if I wasn't."

Jalaj had simply shrugged before climbing in the bus, "There's always a choice. You know that, Gill.")

So—Okay, maybe his team didn't need him as much as he needed his team at that moment, but whatever. To Shubman, these were mere semantics he didn't really want to think about. What mattered was that he was here, in the bus en route to play against Ishan for the first time in his life and he couldn't have had a more memorable the night before experience than this. 

What a jolly, miserable ride indeed. 

When they finally reached the venue, it was filled with a chaos Shubman was used to. Match officials leading teams to their respective pavilions, Shubman being asked to stay back for the toss while analyzing the ground with his coach by his side. 

Upon reaching the middle of the said ground for the final toss, Shubman nodded at Faiz, the opposing captain, in acknowledgement while Faiz just raised an intrigued eyebrow before thrusting his hand out for Shubman to shake.

"Did you really think I would treat you differently after..." Faiz hesitated, risked a side glance at the officials standing all around them and dropped his voice to a whisper, "well, after whatever happened yesterday?"

Shubman appreciated his discreetness, for the only rule of yesterday's party had been to not let any official find out that such a party was happening a night before a league match, organized by one of the playing teams, nonetheless. On further thought though, Shubman realized he appreciated a lot more about the man standing in front of him, a rare gem of a person who didn't treat Shubman like a child but rather a boy capable of making mistakes and learning from them. 

"You can't blame me if I did, though." He shrugged.

"You know, man, I read this somewhere, and I think you need to hear this more than anyone right now. The day you stop making mistakes is the day you stop evolving, but the day you stop learning from them is the day you stop living." Faiz said and moved back to let the officials complete the rest of the formalities. "Are you alive, Gill?"

Once the officials were done, they both called out their respective sides of the coin and waited, in Shubman's opinion, quite stupidly, tracking the motion of the tiny coin.

It gave tails, Shubman's choice and India Blue elected to field. 

"Happy? At least some things are looking forward, yeah?" Faiz asked him when they were walking towards the side of the ground that held both the pavilions. 

It was a trick question, Shubman knew. He thought about what Faiz had said earlier, about how he was probably not going to stop evolving any time soon because his clumsy ass couldn't stop making mistakes because causing chaos where it wasn't meant to be caused seemed to be his soul's birthright, but was he living? In all honesty, till that point in his life, Shubman had learnt from his mistakes. 

Despite the fact that he was a regular mayhem master, he hated making mistakes more than possibly anybody around him could. His father used to tell him a lot, as a kid, that making mistakes is normal, it doesn't set you back as much as it sets you free but young Shubman and the now Shubman still hated the fact that they couldn't, for the life of them, stop making unnecessary mistakes. 

But Faiz wasn't talking about the making of a mistake, was he? No. No, he was talking about learning from them, and had Shubman actually learnt anything from his mistake in the case of his feud with the team? Yes, yes, he had. He acted upon it, made sure to trust his team as much as he trusted his performance to bear fruit in a match and they had been fine after that. 

What about the case with Ishan then? Had Shubman learnt anything? He glanced towards where Faiz's team was resting, and no doubt waiting for their captain to arrive and managed to catch a glimpse of Ishan. His hair was slicked back to avoid getting in his eyes because he had been growing it out for a while now, but tufts still managed to peak from either side of his neck. The studs in his ears glinted, making him stand out from the rest of his team. He was talking to someone else at that moment, face the picture of concentration with that half scowl, half frown thing he managed to do so effortlessly that Shubman remembers, God, he remembers it to be the first fact he had ever catalogued about his friend all those months ago. 

Perhaps, Shubman still hadn't learnt anything from this feud between him and Ishan. And maybe, that was the reason he was so intent on brushing Ishan off in every chance the other had given him to make amends, because he wasn't ready. Because he wasn't sure as to what the cause-effect relationship in this case. Who was the one actually at fault here and who was the victim? In every mistake Shubman has ever made, he was the one at fault, quite glaringly obviously, but for the first time in his life, he was sure that that wasn't the case here. 

Maybe he needed to sort that out before even thinking of making things right with Ishan. Or the fact of whether he wanted to make things right with his friend or not. Maybe he needed to directly ask Ishan what was going on here because moving in circles in his own mind had started to tire him out. And he didn't know how he would do that, when he would do that, if he would do that.

(A.N.)

But all in all, what Shubman did know in that instant, was that he didn't want to stop living. 

"You know what? I think yeah, I am kinda happy." He managed a weak smile despite the circumstance, "Small mercies of life, or something like that, I guess." 

The moment they were about the part, having reached the middle point from between their respective team areas, Faiz looked at him for a whole minute and Shubman resisted the urge to squirm. 

"What are you doing?"

Faiz just shrugged and patted a hand on his shoulder in a surprisingly supportive manner. "Cheer up a little, Gill. You're only nineteen."

And there went Shubman's effort to keep his composure for the next four days of the match. 

Something about that statement, a generic one at first glance, but oh so miserably overlooked otherwise, stilled Shubman in that instant. Faiz moved away and Shubman watched him go back to his team, strategies firing off one after the other in a manner Shubman will, no doubt, face when he turns back to his team. But his legs felt weak all of a sudden, the burden he had been carrying for the entirety of the last ten days or so, or maybe even way before that, came crashing down on him in that one instant and Shubman forgot to breathe. 

He was just nineteen. 

It was August then, and next month, or rather just two weeks later, he would turn twenty, but he was just nineteen now. 

God. God, it was so easy to lose himself in the care of the world, in the care of all the people he wanted to care about but maybe sometimes didn't want to care about as much and so easy to forget himself like that but so hard to finally gain back that consciousness that he was, after all, just a kid. 

He was, after all, just nineteen. 

Perhaps he had spent a little too long standing there, staring distantly in front of him, lost in his reverie that the opposing team in front of him had started noticing. Well, maybe not so much as the whole team but just the one player who seemed well-versed in noticing Shubman in the most random settings at the most random times. The breakfast hallway when Shubman first ignored Ishan, outside the arcade room, when Shubman was buried deep into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway or now, in the middle of the otherwise empty ground, even when he was busy with his own team. 

Ishan looked over his shoulder once, mistakenly, but then did a double take, when he saw Shubman just standing there and... doing nothing. 

Shubman, now that he was aware of his surroundings once again, continued watching Ishan as he made peace with the fact that Shubman was in fact looking in his team's direction without any intent in sight and was, possibly, most probably, going to scare the team if they were to discover him like that. 

He mouthed a pretty annoyed What? in Shubman's direction, to which Shuban replied with a one-shouldered shrug, before turning back towards his team and walking away. 

Cheer up a little, Faiz had said, and so Shubman might as well cheer up a little and play this possibly last match of the tournament for his team with everything he had. 

He was, after all, just nineteen.

And that was, after all, what Ishan would want. 

---

The rest of the day, with the match starting, India Red batting and India Blue fielding, was pretty nonincidental. 

The score was 163/2 and while Shubman knew his team wasn't doing good in terms of performance—how could he not when all his coach wanted to point out during every break and every other instant he could talk to Shubman was this exact thing, Your team isn't in the right headspace, Gill. You cannot win a match like this totally distracted like that—and partially, kinda definitively, Shubman was to be blamed for this, he could also not say anything to anyone on his own because at least they had played something. 

It wasn't the best performance they could have shown, and wasn't, by far, the kind of performance that would win them this match to qualify for the finals, but it was something. And, Shubman had to admit, that was more than what he was willing to expect from his team after last night's fiasco.

"Are we sure about this, cap?" Anmolpreet was asking him, glancing uncertainly between Shubman and the rest of the team a couple meters away from them, still seated in the team bus and waiting because Anmolpreet and Shubman had to make a stop for a minute on the way back to their hotel.

"Of course not." Shubman muttered, thanking the cashier at the store and asking politely for a customer receipt of payment. "Do I look like I was sure about anything that happened to me in the last... forty-eight hours or so, Singh?"

"Yeah—I mean no, but..." Anmolpreet shrugged awkwardly as he followed his captain back to the team bus, "that was, more or less, out of your control. It's not like you could do anything about it, you know."

"I could have started by not pissing people off like that, left and right." Shubman mused, "And then by knowing how and when to make things right with them."

They had reached the team bus by then and Anmolpreet climbed in first but not before slyly looking back at Shubman and saying, "And also by knowing how long to wait out a person before they burst, but you sound like you know all these things by now, so good luck, I guess?"

Shubman laughed, weakly, but he did and climbed in after his teammate muttering, "Thanks. God knows I need all the luck I can get." 

---

Notes:

hehehehehehehehe

Hi, i guess?

I want to explain my disappearance and trust me i will, but it is complete and true rant and I'd rather only the people who really wanna know read it and not the people who're just happy that I'm back on an uploading schedule (kinda?). So my rant will be posted on my wattpad profile in a couple of hours and stuff about what will the next couple of updates look like and how I will space them out etc would also be discussed, so stay tuned?

Coming back to the chapter, this was, in every sense of the concept, supposed to be a filler chapter. I'm back into writing after a long break so getting used to the nuances of the characters and story will take a bit of time, so just bear with me.

For anyone thinking I'm pro-Shubman, God you don't know how many times while writing a chapter do I wish i had written this story from Ishan's pov. Especially now that I'm kinds able to think more from out of Shubman's pov

And for anyone wondering why Shubman is so nonchalant even though Ishan literally just end every contact or friendhsip thread between them and how he's so undeserving of Ishan, calm down please. Trust I know what I'm doing and Shubman's thought process will be dissected with every detail presented to you on a silver platter. Just trust, okay?

love, lavanya <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of the lives we owe