True value (A Hardik-Bhuvi Friendship Fanfiction)

Part 4

After everyone had left, I found Bhuvi's room and threw open the door without bothering to knock. Bhuvi was lying and reading one of those daft novels he reads sometimes.

He looked up at the noise.

"Hey, Hardik," he said. "I thought you all had already left."

"They have all already left," I said, grinning, pulling a chair to his bed and flopping down on it.

"What are you playing at, then?" asked Bhuvi suspiciously.

"Didn't feel like going."

"Hardik! I told you not to stay back for me!"

"Don't assume I'm staying back for you," I told him. "I'm just feeling a bit tired, so..."

"You're unbelievable," said Bhuvi, pretending to be annoyed, but I could see that he wasn't really annoyed.

"What did Patrick say?" I asked.

Bhuvi looked back at the book in his hands. "Two or three matches, not sure."

"Does your foot hurt?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No, Hardik, please stop it."

"You can read your awesome book. I only came here to sleep." I leaned back on the chair and closed my eyes.

"I didn't mean to--" Bhuvi began, sounding rather stricken.

"It's ok, I know," I said quickly, because I wasn't a bit hurt at his tone-- it's natural that he wants to avoid talking about his injury.

There was a silence as I lazed and he read.

"Remember the time you took 5 wickets in a T20 vs South Africa?" I asked suddenly.

Bhuvi put down his book and grinned.

"Remember the time you scored 93 in the 1st Test vs South Africa?" he countered.

"Remember how you tipped me off about the swing from the runner's end in that match?" I said, grinning at the memory.

"Remember how furious you were after that Champions Trophy final run out?"

"Remember how you had calmed me down?" I asked quietly.

Our eyes met as we both remembered that day.

*****

I literally could not believe that my best ever knock, when India was in pathetic situation to say the least, should end in a run out.

Damn Jaddu. What kind of a bloody idiot is he?

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" I roared at him, adding a few of my choicest Gujarati slangs.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know how--" said Jaddu, looking wild with regret, but I didn't care.

He had just ended India's last-ditch hope--my knock.

I stormed off the field, still muttering slangs, furious at Jaddu for calling, at myself for listening to the call, at Pakistan, at India, at my stupid life--and anything and everything in between.

As if the T20 WC 2016 semi final hadn't hurt enough--now this!

The dugout was in a funeral-like silence when I burst in.