Can't promise you the world, but... (A Rohit-Shreyas Fanfiction)

Chapter 16

When Rahul had to return to the NCA from Sri Lanka after the first two days of practice because his hamstring had complained again, he left behind a dark cloud. Shreyas did not know how Rahul bore the flight back to Bangalore, after the long toil for months for the fitness test, after the joy of finally clearing it and making it to the squad...He knew he couldn't.

Rohit and Virat always had a frowns on their face, and a defeated and pissed sort of slump in their shoulders that said: why does nothing work out for us?

It was the question of who'd play at number 5, the juniors knew that. But nobody spoke of it.

Rohit played Ishan at that spot in the group stage match against Pakistan, and he repaid the faith with a great, gritty knock with Hardik when the whole batting line-up failed. In the second match against Nepal, nobody but the openers were required to bat. And everyone knew Dravid sir and Rohit bhaiya were talking to Rahul's physio at the NCA thrice every single day for updates.

The day Rahul returned, when India was gearing up for the Super Four, there was a general weariness around the air, like nobody dared to quite believe it was true. Rahul looked the wariest of all. 

After all, it was hardest to trust your own luck.

The first day of practice after their Number 5's return went perfectly.

The third morning, when Shreyas jumped awake at the sudden alarm, he left a momentary flare in his lower back.

No. No, I imagined it.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, cautiously. The pain was almost imperceptible. So why was he perceiving it at all?

Imagining. Imagining.

The alarm rang on as Shreyas took terrified steps around the room.

"Switch it off, will you?" Rahul complained sleepily.

Shreyas hastened to comply, panic pounding in his ears. 

It could not be true, his back having a relapse after he'd made his comeback and played two matches. Batted in only one, for 9 balls, that was true, but he was playing, he was India's number 4, he was going to be India's number 4 in the World Cup, Rohit bhaiya had said just yesterday--and it was not possible his back would dare let him down.

And yet, it turned out within the first hour of the practice session that day, it was possible.

Half of Shreyas' sense told him to keep ignoring the pain, but the other half remembered what had happened the last time he'd done so. It hadn't done him any good, in the long run...

"What's up?" Hardik, who'd been bowling to him, asked. "Why d'you look like you've swallowed a lemon?"

Shreyas tried to unscrew his face. Failed. Hardik studied his face with an intrigued frown.

Rohit jogged up to them.

"Anything wrong?"

Imagining it, imagining it, imagining it!

Stop. Being. An. Idiot.

"I think my back's hurting again, Rohit bhaiya." Shreyas' voice came out plaintively. "I'm not sure--I don't know--"

Hardik looked a mix of exasperated and anxious, but he didn't demand 'how can you not be sure' as he clearly wanted to. Neither did Rohit bhaiya, who took Shreyas' arm and led him away to Nitin sir.

All the way, he kept repeating, "Don't worry. Don't worry. Don't worry."

Shreyas would have wanted to snap back how it was possible not to worry if he hadn't been feeling numb from head to toe.