The door knocking

Chapter 3

When the DC match drew nearer, it got worse and worse. The day before KKR was due to travel to Pune for their match against MI, the one right before the one against DC, Shreyas could hardly focus on the ball in the practice session.

And he felt mortified about it, too, because everyone outplayed him that day, even the bowling all-rounders. Some captain he was.

He couldn't honestly say his teammates were anything but nice on the outside—Mavi even gave him a couple of half volleys that made Shreyas scorch him up with a look, remembering a certain over from 2018 very clearly—but he was keenly aware of how much of a fool he must be proving himself to be.

After the cooldown post practice, Venky dropped by Shreyas' room, asking, "We're thinking of heading out for a walk, Shreyas—care to join us?"

Shreyas looked into his expression and didn't, of course, see anything mean or mocking in it. But go out with the bunch of strangers who were like family and captaining who he was kept away from his family?

Hell would freeze over before he did that.

"No, I'm tired—you guys go." Shreyas didn't have to lie about it, either. "Take care not to be seen breaching the bubble."

Venky gave him a small, crooked smile before he left.

Shreyas thought it might not altogether be a bad idea to order a crate of whiskey right then and there.

_________________

Venky paused outside the door.

As time had progressed, he'd only got surer and surer that Shreyas Iyer wasn't arrogant or superior or haughty like he'd first perceived himself to be, but for some reason, a very unhappy person.

And Venky didn't like people to be unhappy.

Sure, it was fine that they'd made DC unhappy last season by taking away the chance of playing a second consecutive final. It was fine if they'd made their current captain unhappy in the process, too.

But it was not fine if their team was still, somehow, making their captain unhappy.

Because Venky knew it had something to do with their team. He'd seen the way Shreyas greeted his friends from opposition teams, or the way he talked on phone to his family. He might not understand a word of Marathi, but his tone spoke of a very different Shreyas from the one they encountered otherwise.

And Venky didn't like it.

After a brief pacing in the corridor, he was back at Shreyas' door, knocking.

Shreyas opened, and looked surprised to see him again.

They spoke simultaneously.

"Um, sorry to disturb you again—"

"What is it again, Venkatesh?"

There. Anyone who called a Venkatesh by the full name and not Venky was definitely a person who disliked the Venkatesh. It had to be one of the most obvious nicknames in the world.

"Sorry," said Venky again. "But if you're mentally tired, a walk out of the bubble will probably do you good."

Shreyas looked like this was the last thing he'd expected.

For a bit, he seemed to be considering the idea, then his jaw set the way Nitish's did when he was being particularly stubborn about something.

"Thanks, Venkatesh, but I—I'm not just mentally tired—I wanted to sleep early," said Shreyas, quickly and awkwardly.

"If you say so," said Venky, feeling—for some reason—disappointed. "G'night, skipper."

"I have a name, you know!" said Shreyas.

That was so unexpected, Venky needed a whole minute to recover and say, "Sure, you do. I know that. Shreyas Iyer."

Shreyas lifted his chin in the haughty manner that didn't seem very haughty to Venky any longer.

"Yeah, so quit calling me skipper. It gets on my nerves."

"I will if you quit calling me by my full name," said Venky with a grin. "It gets on my nerves."

"If you say so..." said Shreyas dubiously.

"G'night, Shreyas."

"Night, Venky."

And Venky walked away to his impatient bunch of friends raring for open air feeling like he hadn't, after all, made zero progress so far.

_________________

The next morning, unfortunately, Venky felt like he was back to square one.

When their team gathered for boarding the bus, Shreyas hung back alone, holding his head in a tired manner. His eyes were bloodshot, too, like he hadn't slept at all.

Venky skipped over to him.

"Did you sleep early yesterday?"

"Yes," said Shreyas shortly, and he went straight towards the front door of the bus.

Well, not very straight—he took kind of zigzagging steps. Venky wondered if he was going down with the flu or something.

But his attempt to ask if Shreyas felt ok and offering an arm to steady him was met with a firm rebuff.

Shreyas took the frontmost seat and buried his head in his arms like he was preparing to sleep, discouraging conversation flatly, and Venky knew he was back to square one.

"What is it with him?" he asked, frustrated, when their gang had settled down in the last two rows like they always did ('backbenchers,' Chandu sir said, 'not expected from you, though, Venky.')

"Who, Shreyas bhai?" asked Mavi.

"Who else?"

"He must be in one of his moods," said VC.

"No one can always be in one of his moods," said Venky sardonically.

"The counter to your statement," said Nitish, "is in front of us."

"Quite literally in front of us," said Narine with a straight face.

They erupted.

"Keep it down," called Chandu sir.

Of course, Shreyas hadn't been in one of his moods, as was proven the moment their bus pulled into their hotel in Pune, and he caught sight of Rohit Sharma and his daughter.

Shreyas turned wide awake, not-at-all-tired in the blink of an eye, and left all his luggage behind and jumped onto the lawn with a cheerful roar of Samaira's name.

Venky wondered yet again why their captain disliked them so.