Whispers of Friendship || ICT One Shots

A Bittersweet Goodbye - (Gauti Bhai - Shreyas)

The dimly lit waiting area of the bus station felt colder than it should have, the chill seeping through the thin padding of the worn-out bench where Gautam and Shreyas sat side by side. Their shoulders barely touched, yet an unspoken bond of shared sorrow hung heavily in the air between them.

Shreyas sighed, his breath visible in the frigid air, and glanced up at the digital display that announced his bus was delayed by yet another hour. Frustration etched across his face, he sank deeper into the uncomfortable chair, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Gautam sat with a book in his hands, but the pages barely turned. His eyes, though directed at the text, were glazed over with thoughts that swirled chaotically, rendering him oblivious to the words before him.

The waiting area was filled with a constant hum of conversations, uninteresting announcements, and the occasional cry of a child echoing through the space. Shreyas sighed again, this time more audibly, the sound barely more than a whisper but loud enough to catch Gautam's attention. He closed the book softly, turning his head towards Shreyas. Gautam looked at Shreyas, the concern in his eyes cutting through the haze of their shared silence. "You okay?" he asked gently, his voice barely above the hum of the waiting area.

Shreyas glanced up, surprised. "Not really. You shouldn't have paid for my ticket," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "I can handle it myself."

Gautam shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. "Ok how about this promise me one thing," he said, his eyes fixed intently on Shreyas, "If you play for India for a long time, then-"

"Never," Shreyas interrupted, cutting Gautam off with a firm, almost defiant tone, "I'll return the favor right now, or else later I'll have to pay you even more."

Gautam sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked down at his hands. "Yas," he began, his voice carrying a note of weary resignation, "If you play for a long time for India, then don't call me. If you are doing well and get immense success in your career then don't say me. If you get rich and marry, don't tell me. If you're happy, don't let me know, because I'll be very jealous, very much so."

Shreyas's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by Gautam's response. For a moment, the frustration and embarrassment were replaced by a flicker of surprise.

As Gautam continued, "But, yes, do call me, but do it during difficult times. When the world feels like it's closing in on you, when you're facing moments of hardship and no one else is there to support you, when you feel no one is there to back you, then don't hesitate to call me. If you ever feel lost, if the weight of expectations becomes too much to bear, reach out to me. Even if you think I won't understand, even if you believe I'm too far away, know that I'm always here for you." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, as his voice trembled sightly.

"When you're in the spotlight, surrounded by cheers and applause, I'll be proud from a distance. When the world seems too vast, and you feel insignificant within it, I'll remind you of your worth. If you find yourself in the darkness, unable to see a way out, come to me. If the weight of your dreams feels too heavy to bear alone, know that my door is always open. Come to me just the way you came to me before, and like before even I won't ask you any questions, I will take you in, just like before."

He paused, the words hanging in the air between them, before continuing with a softer, almost pleading tone. "Promise me, if you want you can shut me out when life is kind to you, but most importantly, Never shut me out when it's not."

Shreyas felt a lump form in his throat, the raw emotion in Gautam's voice striking a chord deep within him. His vision blurred, and he felt a warmth behind his eyes, threatening to spill over. Shreyas's eyes glistened with unshed tears, the raw emotion in Gautam's words piercing through the tough facade he had tried to maintain. He looked away, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the moisture that threatened to spill over.