Chapter Text
February 7th, India vs USA [Wankhede stadium, Mumbai]
It had been 6 hours since Abhishek felt some uneasiness in his abdomen. He brushed them off as cramps, crediting them to his longer-than-necessary net practice yesterday. I’ll be fine, he thought.
By lunchtime, he couldn’t hold food in, so he had to settle for a single granola bar, skipping lunch entirely. When the coach and captain asked him, he responded with a simple, “I’d called for room service and had lunch about an hour ago.” He let out an exhale when they didn’t question him further. What he didn’t notice was, however, that his boyfriend was right there.
He had walked up to his Abhay to ask him why he was acting strange but had halted when Surya and Gauti sir got to him first, so imagine his surprise when Abhishek lied through his teeth.
“Abhay, aisa kaunsa room service mangwaya tune ki mere room me hote hue sirf tere tak khana pohocha?”
Abhishek let out a guilty laugh and turned around to come face-to-face with his boyfriend, who now looked like a frustrated cat with his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ishu..."
“Unhe jhooth bola, theek hai, but don’t you dare lie to me. What happened, meri jaan? And don't even think about saying kuch nai hua.”
The lie quickly died on Abhishek’s tongue as he realized it would not work on Ishan. “Cramps hai shayad. Bas thoda dard kar raha hai near the abdomen."
Ishan’s hand quickly went up to cup Abhishek’s cheek as he looked for any hint of a lie in his eyes. When he found none, he sighed and slowly started stroking his thumb across Abhishek’s cheek as Abhi leaned into his palm. “You should sit this one out, meri jaan. Don’t worsen your health. League stage humse ho jayega manage; we need you fit and fine by Super 8.”
Abhishek, like the stubborn person he always was, responded, “I’ll be fine by match time, baby; nothing that a bat can't solve. It’s okay, we should get going, yeah?" and took Ishan's hand to press a soft kiss to his palm to assure him. Ishan could do nothing but sigh reluctantly and go back to their room to change into their jerseys.
Abhishek was fine. Actually, he just did a very good job of acting like he was. He drove his boyfriend out of the room quickly by citing an excuse that he had to call his parents and that Ishan should not waste a lot of time because even Gauti Sir had a limit to the number of people that could be late, and it surely wasn't greater than one. After confirming that Ishan had really left (though Ishan scolded Abhay a lot for that), he clutched his stomach before doubling over in pain. "No, this couldn't be happening," he thought to himself. He was stronger than that. He'd be better than that. He was Team India's dynamic opener, for crying out loud. So, he did what he had to do. He opened up Ishan's stash of emergency medicines and swiftly swallowed a couple Paracetamols. He put on his jersey, practiced an at-ease expression, and stepped out of the room. (Ishan had already taken his kit bag for him.)
When he reached the ground, everyone greeted him normally. Arsh gave him a pat on the back, which made Abhishek wince ever so slightly. That was not lost on Ishan, but before he could do anything about it, Abhishek put on his pads and started readying himself for the match. All ishan could do was sit beside his boyfriend, silently comforting him with his presence.
This was supposed to be one of the best moments of their lives—they were finally opening together. Yet Abhishek, no matter how tough he acted, could not beat the excruciating pain that was shooting up through his stomach, and Ishan could not feel as happy when he saw his boyfriend like that.
Ishan pressed a soft kiss to Abhishek’s lips before putting his helmet on for him. “Abhay, we'll be okay, yeah? We're finally opening together, like we always wanted to."
Abhishek smiled as wide as he could through the pain, “Yeah, dreams do come true. Let's set the stage on fire.”
As they walked on to the crease, Abhishek could not brush off the pressure. Scoring a duck in the previous match. Trolls ready to rip him apart. Stomach cramps out of nowhere on the day of his World Cup debut. Maybe that's why, when the ball came swinging up to him, he hit it absentmindedly, not even registering what he had done until he realized the crowd went silent. He had just gifted his wicket to the Americans on a platter.
He couldn't face the crowd. He couldn't face his coach and captain. Most of all, he couldn't face his boyfriend. He hung his head low and hurried out of the field, not stopping even when Ishan tried to. The last thing he remembered was Ishan calling out his name and Surya giving him a pat on the shoulder in the dressing room before pain shot up his side and everything went black.
Ishan wanted to meet Abhishek. He knew something was up since the morning, but his stubborn boyfriend just wouldn't tell him, and now, conveniently enough, even after getting out soon, he couldn't meet Abhay because the second innings was still left. Somehow, he pulled through the next three hours, trying to save catches and carry out stumpings till they won the game. After the match, Ishan took off his gloves and ran as fast as he could to Abhishek.
"Food poisoning," the medicos told him. Abhishek was fast asleep due to the medication. Ishan's heart twisted painfully. He wanted to scream at himself for not taking better care of his boyfriend, for not paying enough attention. Ishan did not leave his side, not even for dinner. He pressed a kiss to Abhishek's forehead, took his hand in his, and stayed there till the morning. As if he could belong anywhere else. And if the rest of the team and coaching staff saw way more than brotherly concern and friendly care in the way Ishan clutched Abhishek, they didn't comment on it.
When morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, Abhishek woke up to a numb right hand, courtesy of Ishan sleeping on it rather uncomfortably. Oh god, was Ishan here the whole night? Did they win the match? Did they lose it because of Abhishek's failure?
Ishan, who'd just woken up to Abhishek's hand twitching, caught his boyfriend's train of thoughts. “We won the match, Abhay. Don't worry.”
Abhishek let out a breath of relief and later a yelp when Ishan pinched his arm. “Ouch, apne patient boyfriend ko koi itna roughly treat karta hai kya?”
That earned him another pinch from Ishan. “Pagal tha kya tu, Abhay? Couldn't you have told me you weren't feeling well? Tujhe mid-tournament kuch aur zyada serious ho jaata toh? I told you to cut down on those kulche yesterday, but nahi, sahib toh meri baat sunte hi kaha hain?!”
Abhishek let out a huff of laughter at that. “Sorry, meri jaan, I didn't want to worry you. Also, I'm sorry for getting out on a duck yesterday. It must've burdened you with more pressure.”
Well, Ishan was now furious. “Thappad padega tujhe abhi. You are more important to me than a match, okay? Aur bohot saare matches baaki hai, tab kar lega tu. Abhi ke liye take some rest, please? Tujhe recovery time 1 week ka diya hai doctors ne, so please, Abhay, for the love of God, no cricket this one week. Just focus on healing, haan?”
“On one condition.”
“Are you in a state to be making conditions? Fine, I'll humor you on the rogi quota. What is it, meri jaan?” Ishan asked as he continued to caress Abhishek's hair.
“I need a kiss after each pill. They're bitter as hell, and I hate them. Chalo, do mujhe ab ek.”
Ishan rolled his eyes playfully at that, muttering under his breath about how childish Abhishek was, but he gave in anyway. Good decision; they both had their widest smiles on their faces after that.
Zara se bhi samjho kaise? Ye parhez rakhta hai kyun, maane na kabhi koi zor…
(Why does the heart have even the slightest of reservations? It doesn't ever bow to any pressure.)