Chapter Text
“Ishan, Shubh kaha hai?” (Ishan, where's Shubh?) Virat’s voice was barely heard from the other end of the table. The team had just sit down for breakfast, lively chatter flying in all directions as they all caught up after weeks of being away. They were at the start of the two week long training before the World Cup.
“Mujhe nahi pata bhaiya, uski flight land nahi hui hogi ab tak shayad,” (I don't know bhaiya, his flight may not have landed yet.) Usually they called each other as soon as their flights landed, to ask where the team was and when they were getting to their room.
“Actually, Ishan, mujhe Shubh ka call aaya tha, ek aadhe ghante pehle.” (Actually, Ishan, Shubh called me half an hour ago.) The players next to them stopped their conversations and turned to face Siraj, who had just spoken. Ishan's hand froze with a bite of food halfway to his mouth. He looked at the young bowler incredulously.
“Vo mujhe bola ki uski flight just land hui hai, aur ab 5-10 minit me pohoch jaega.” (He told me that his flight has just landed, and he'll get here in 5-10 minutes.) Ishan didn't say anything, and after a seconds pause went back to eating. On the inside, he was a little hurt that Shubh hadn't told him that he's reached.
“Ek aur cheez,” Siraj’s voice was a little apologetic as he continued. “Usne mujhe pucha ki vo iss baar mere saath reh sakta hai kya,” (One more thing, he asked me if he could stay with me this time.) Once the words registered to Ishan's shocked brain, he closed his eyes to stop the hurt from showing through. He wouldn't have been as upset if Shubh had been the one to tell him that he wanted to stay with someone else, but hearing it from Siraj made it worse.
A hand settled on his shoulder, making Ishan open his eyes. The young seamer’s expression was sad as he looked at him. “Mai usko na bolta hu, Ishu, mujhe—” (I'll tell him no, Ishan, I—)
Ishan shook his head. “Nahi, nahi, koi zarurat nahi hai uski. Tu Shreyas ke saath rehta hai na? Mai uske room me shift ho jata hu, aur tum dono humari purani room le lo.” (No no, there's no need for that. You stay with Shreyas right? I'll shift to his room and the two of you can have our old room.)
“Ishan—” He stood up abruptly, Siraj's hand falling off his shoulder in the process. “Mai abhi saman shift karta hu,” (I'll go move the stuff now.) He walked away from the table without letting him complete his sentence.
“Are Ishan, kaha ja raha hai? Kuch khaya ya nahi tune?” (Ishan, where are you going? Did you eat anything?) Their captain's voice echoed behind him, but Ishan didn't answer, just continued forward. As the lift doors closed, he could hear the noise at the table pick up as everyone started asking questions.
*
The gears in Ishan's head were working full speed as the elevator went up. As he was thinking, he realised his conversations with Shubh in the past few days had been shorter than usual. There were no witty remarks, no casual banter, in fact they barely talked the past week or so. He suddenly grew cold as he came to the conclusion that Shubh had been avoiding him for a while and he didn't know why.
But he should have talked to me, Ishan thought to himself. If I'd done something wrong, I would have apologized to him. Had he been too clingy? Asked for too much attention, was Shubh getting bored of him?
His thoughts continued to spiral as he made his way on autopilot towards the room he was supposed to share with the young prince. Upon entering, he realised he'd subconsciously set up his space in the way they always did together, him taking the bed closed to the door and leaving more than half the closet empty for Shubh’s bottomless wardrobe.
He forced himself to stop thinking about the other man as he stuffed all of his clothes haphazardly into his suitcase and wheeled it out of the room. He took two steps into the corridor before realising he didn't know which room he was supposed to go to. He'd forgotten to ask Siraj for the room number.
He stopped there in the middle of the hallway and pulled out his phone. Tried calling the young bowler but his phone was busy. Ishan debated on what to do for a few minutes before he thought of calling the man who was going to be his new roommate.
The phone rang for a few agonizingly long rings before it was picked up. Shreyas’ voice on the other end of the line was confused as he answered.
“Hello Ishan? Kya hua Bhai?” (What happened brother?)
“Sun, tera room number kya hai?” (What's your room number?)
“1103, par me room me nahi hu, abhi breakfast kar raha hu. Tujhe kuch chahiye kya?” (1103, but I'm not in the room right now. Do you need anything?)
“I'm your new roommate,” The words almost don't come out of Ishan's mouth.
“What? But, Shubh, uska—”
“Shubh wants to stay with Siraj Miya this time around,”
There's silence on the other side before the sound of a chair scraping on the floor is heard and he gets the impression that Shreyas just abandoned his breakfast.
“Tu ruk, mai upar aa raha hu,” (You wait, I'm coming up.) Saying that he cuts the call. Ishan made his way to room 1103 and waits outside the door, thoughts still muddled with what he could have done to offend Shubh so much that he didn't want to stay with him anymore.
They'd always worked together perfectly. Sure, they had their fights, about Ishan never using airpods when he watched movies too loud, or about him apparently ruining Shubh's sleep schedule. But he didn't think that bothered the younger man as much as he made it seem.
The sound of footsteps dragged him out of his head, and he gave Shreyas a smile as he reached to open the door. The other man ruffled his hair before dragging him in. The room looked exactly like the one he was in that morning, the furniture the exact same and he could almost trick himself into thinking that nothing had changed and that Shubh would be walking in the room any minute, slapping the back of his head and pulling him into a hug.
Stop it, Ishan said to himself. Maybe this is why Shubh needed space from you, you're too much. Logically he knew that there could be a simple explanation, but his emotional heart, already halfway in love with his best friend, wouldn't let him think rationally.
He and Shreyas didn't speak much as they changed for practice, the familiar action of changing into the training kit and gathering their kit bags almost meditative.
As Shreyas pulled the door closed behind them while going down for practice, he swung an arm over Ishan's shoulder and pulled him into a hug.
“Mujhe pata hai tereko baat nahi karni hai abhi, but kuch bhi chahiye to mujhe bata dena. Tu mera bhi dost hai, Ishu.” (I know you don't want to talk right now, but if you need anything just tell me. You're my friend too, Ishu.) That statement finally brought a smile onto the younger man’s face. His teammate's affection was doing wonders at elevating his mood.
They walked out of the hotel that way, and Ishan had almost forgotten about the entire incident, pulled into a lively discussion about the finer points of Mumbai’s street food with Shreyas. Until they reached the bus, and Ishan came face to face with the man who owned his heart. Shubhman had arrived.