rematch | ishman

CH: 7

Ishan didn't ban Shubman from the field on match day. Likely because he was busy strategizing, a process Shubman contributed to by snorting at ideas he disliked.

“Shub, this is a team meeting,” Abhishek hissed, nudging him towards the door.

"And your team's going to lose," Shubman quipped, sticking out his tongue.

Mayank responded by throwing a pebble at him, while the rest of the team simply sighed in resignation. Ishan rolled his eyes and carried on with his plan, turning to Rohit and Hardik for their approval once in a while.

“...wo same maarta hai, reverse swing daal usko…”

As Ishan spoke, Shubman couldn't help but notice the small details about him—the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes lit up with passion, the slight twitch of his lips when he emphasized a point. The sight of a concentrated Ishan was oddly satisfying. Their eyes briefly met, and Ishan shot him a questioning look. Shubman shook his head and looked away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Tillu, don’t cry if they sledge you, okay?” Rishabh said with a teasing smile.

Tilak nodded in all seriousness. “Mai nayi gaali sikhke aaya, bhaiya.”

The others laughed as Hardik ruffled his hair proudly. Aditi entered the room with an amused smile, “How’s the spirit, boys?”

“Good, now that you’re here,” Surya chimed in with a smirk, nudging Ishan.

“Awesome,” she beamed. “I just wanted to wish you all good luck.”

“Did I hear it right? Did she say you all?” Yuzi remarked, snickering along with Jaddu. Ishan shot them a glare, silently urging them to pipe down.

Aditi blushed slightly as she shot a thumbs-up to everyone, her gaze lingering on Ishan. "Good luck, Ish," she said before hastily dashing out of the room.

"You all mein Ish aa gaya tha, nahi?" Rohit teased an embarrassed Ishan, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as the others erupted into laughter.

Shubman blinked, turning to Abhishek. “What’s this about?”

Abhishek chuckled. “It’s what it looks like, I guess.”

Shubman clicked his tongue, observing Ishan as he slapped his own cheeks, which resembled a tomato. What an idiot. Shubman turned to Abhishek to hug him. “Good luck, bro.”

“We’re finally playing together,” the latter replied giddily.

Shubman smiled softly, nodding in silent approval and he sent him off. Though he didn't say it out loud, his heart swelled with contentment at the sight of Abhishek and Ishan playing together. His hands itched to click a photo but he didn’t want to look like a middle-aged mother attending her son’s match.

Ishan, as usual, played aggressively. The crack of wood against leather echoed across the field as the ball raced past the infield. He had an uncanny precision for finding gaps, Shubman crafted a mental map, strategizing positions for his players when they’d face him. They had to exploit Ishan’s weakness to his breaking point.

Ishan got out scoring 32 off 19. Shubman could read his frustration by his footsteps as he walked out. It was probably not a good idea to approach him but Shubman found himself heading to the dressing room anyway.

“Not now, Gill,” Ishan said as he sensed the boy walk in.

“That wasn’t half bad,” Shubman offered.

“Don’t patronize me!” Ishan exclaimed, tossing his gloves into his locker and slamming it shut with a loud bang.

Shubman flinched before taking a seat beside the boy, who was slumped against the lockers. “I think you should have kept rotating the strike,” he said after a while.