A Tumbler Full of Tales - ICT and beyond

My heart is sick of Woe (Ft. Virat. RCB. Rohirat. Jassi)

My heart is sick of Woe (Ft. Virat. RCB. Rohirat. Jassi)

A/N - Do not take this too seriously. There is no real plot. Just things.

I am just so disappointed with RCB and cranky due to pain.

Well, he does his thing. He stops the crowd from booing Hardik.

He hugs Hardik; runs a hand through the boy's unkempt hair. He nudges Rohit ever so slightly, asking whether he is doing okay.

He sees Siraj with Jassi and does not disturb them. He shakes hands, completes the formalities and by the time peace rolls into place, he saunters back into the Team room.

They are sharing hotels, RCB and MI, despite many of them having their residences in this city of dreams. The managements works in mysterious ways but Virat stands in the middle of the room feeling quite lost.

RCB is again treading the murkiest waters down at the very end and Virat had become quite the expert in smiling against that rising deluge of sorrow. Each match and he sits back at that dugout, his cap slightly pulled down and trying hard to push down those pesky feelings of disappointment and grief.

Another match, another loss. Virat is so used to it by now that it is downright hilarious.

"Hey."

And of course, there stands Glen Maxwell right in the middle of the room.

"Hey. Not out with the Team?"

"No, not really. Not feeling up to it and all."

Virat nods and goes to where his temporary lockers had been set up. Opening it, he pulls out the box from within. He did not know what it held, but it had been slipped into his pocket by MS right after their first IPL match with a whispered,

"Just follow the note"

A tiny post-it had been pasted on top of the box with just a couple of words penned.

"Open only when the day grows really dark. Love, respect and trust. From Bhai."

Virat blinks back the sadness and runs a hand over the box. It was not yet time; he still has strength left.

He keeps the box inside his pockets and closes up the locker again.

"What are you looking at?"

Maxi is sitting on one of the beanbags and intently looking at his phone, almost glaring at it. "Nothing. Just.... Just twitter."

Virat rolls his eyes. "Why would you do something as stupid as that? Just after we lost the match and rather spectacularly at that?"

Maxi shrugs and places his mobile aside. "It is good to know where you stand. I should be able to take the heat considering that I am not performing; purposefully jinxing the team and all."

Virat closes his eyes and breathes in. He places a hand on Maxi's head, much as he had done with Hardik, and pulls him into a hug.

"I am not purposely jinxing the team, Virat." The words were spoken and Maxi tightens his arms around Virat's waist. "I am really not."

Virat knows that platitudes at this stage were useless at best and downright disrespectful at worst; he kept patting that head of head, running his fingers through the dishevelled mop.

"I trust you, Maxi. The team trusts you. It is alright, really. Things happen and are we really a Team if we do not stand by our mates in their hour of need? Stop looking at the social media things, Maxi."