EYES LIKE THAT (Shubman Gill X Ishan Kishan)

shut up, just shut up

Ishan's confidence fizzles out as he makes his way toward the pair. What was he even going to do? Pour wine on the girl 'by accident' and snatch Shubman away while she's freaking out about her clothes? That certainly seemed tempting.

And fucking desperate. He sighs.

Please, he was not some petty soap opera villain. He begins to turn around, feeling defeated, when a waiter knocks into him, spilling a cocktail onto him.

"Goddamn, karma sure works fast," Ishan looks down at his shirt, laughing mirthlessly.

"I'm so so sorry, sir," The waiter looks terrified, his eyes wide. He quickly grabs a napkin from a container and hands it to Ishan.

"May I help you with anything, sir? I could arrange a shirt for you..." the waiter looks around nervously. Ishan just shakes his head. Today was turning out to be a shitshow.

Wait a minute.
Napkin.
And the pen in the waiter's patch pocket.

"No, no, no, no," Ishan shakes his head, berating himself internally, but his heart beat starts getting louder by the second. Nope, he was not crazy enough to do what his heart was screaming at him to do.

But before he can stop himself, he asks the waiter, "Can I have a pen?"

"Yes, sir," the waiter, looking surprised at his request.

Heart practically in his mouth, Ishan snatches a napkin and begins writing. When he's finished, he doesn't think twice before heading towards the dance floor. He knows if he pauses he would scrap the whole idea and return home, and cry to some night-time TV show. Pathetic, truly.

Shubman's eyes are already on him before he has reached and Ishan's breath hitches at their intensity. He's holding the girl close, touching her in an overt way, but his eyes are on Ishan. The song stops and Ishan pushes his way toward him.

His eyes grow darker with each step Ishan takes.

"Hey," he says to Shubman, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Hi," Shubman gives Ishan a nonchalant nod, then does a double take, "There's... wine on your shirt, Kishan." He reaches his hand out and slowly traces Ishan's shirt, stopping on the stain. Their eyes meet and Ishan's breath catches.

Kishan?

"I know," he looks over at the girl who thankfully was talking at a distance to a friend.
"Does it bother it you that much?"

"Not really," Shubman shrugs, looking toward where Ishan had been sitting, "You left poor little Dhruv all alone?" He says, mockingly.

"He went home," Ishan takes a deep breath, bracing himself to say the next words, "Wipe it for me."

"What?"

"The wine. It will stain." Ishan hands him the napkin.

Shubman raises his eyebrows, but takes the napkin.

And that very moment, Ishan turns around and fucking flees. He takes the first exit he sees and literally runs out, his heart thundering in his chest. His face flushed with blood, he feels a little lighthearted. He stays there until his heart calms down.
What the fuck did he just do?

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There is a knock on their room. Ishan knows who it is. The knock is immediately followed by the beep of the key card. Shubman bursts in. There are no greetings.

"Ishan," his voice is thick, demanding, "Did you write this?" He shoves the napkin into Ishan's hand, the expression on his face was something Ishan had never seen before.

He looked absolutely desperate.

Me and you, in a hotel room
Alone
Or her?

Ishan looks down at the napkin in his hands.

"Yes," his face has grown fully red and he can feel the sweat in his hands.

"And what does that mean?" Shubman's voice was low and positively vibrating.

Ishan studies his face, suddenly feeling hollow. Was he teasing him? Did he really not know? He suddenly felt overwhelmed with his emotions, the rashness of his decision, his indecisiveness, and now Shubman was here, probably shocked at his nerve, after all that dramatic proclamation about not liking him and Ishan was, blurring all the lines. They were probably better off as friends; and he was simply complicating things.

He did not blame Shubman. He deserved this.

"Forget it," he swallows, trying to hold in his tears. He gets up from the bed to leave.

"Sit down, Ishan," he holds him firmly in place and kneels down so he is at eye level to Ishan.

"Tell me. Please." Shubman says after a pause, more gently, taking Ishan's hand in his.

"I like you! Ok? Happy, now?  I've liked you since forever. Obviously. Have you ever seen me play? Whenever I score a four, a sixer, take a wicket, I look over at you hoping that you'd be impressed. When I make a joke, I look over at you, hoping you'd smile. Whenever I enter a room, my eyes search for you, hoping to find you there. When I open my eyes in the morning, my hands reach out to you, hoping to touch your skin. When I date anyone else, I look into their eyes, hoping to find you. And here I am, pouring my soul out to you, hoping you'd like me back!" Ishan stops, running out of breath and looks at him.

Shubman doesn't say a word. He just stares at him.

Ishan's heart aches at his silence, and his brain catches up with mouth. His face is red as a beetroot and he looks down, blinking away hurriedly. This was a bad idea, he shouldn't have said anything.

"Ok. Maybe we're better off as friends, after all. I guess the manager—"

Shubman's mouth crashes down to his, cutting him off. Ishan freezes for a moment and then kisses him right back, hard.

"Shut up. Just shut up," he says to Ishan, his breathing ragged. He grabs the back of his neck and pulls Ishan toward him, touching him hungrily. Their kisses are frantic, almost angry, and Shubman's hand rove over Ishan's body as if he had never touched someone before. Ishan tries to remember how to breathe and bites back a moan.

"No, I want to hear it," Shubman says fiercely and he grips Ishan's waist roughly and carries him to the bed.

"Wait a second," Ishan says breathlessly, putting his hands over Shubman's lips. "So, we've.... decided not be friends?" He just felt like he desperately needed to confirm, their relationship had remained undefined for way too long.

Shubman's voice is rasping as he responds, "You tell me, I want to tear your clothes off. Is that friendly?"

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Guys.
As far as I'm concerned, yesterday didn't happen.

I slept on 18th November and woke up on 20th.

But honestly, I enjoyed this cup so much. Even the final match. The screaming, yelling, cheering and crying with my cousins, relatives and parents was an unforgettable memory. And I love our cricket team for that.

And @FellforMoon, this chapter doesn't have smut, and I'm sorry because I loved your message so much. But it does have kissing and I hope you and everyone enjoys it. ❤