A Hardik Pandya/Shubman Gill Fan Fiction

Hospital - it's an emergency

NATASHA'S POV:

The crowd is muttering and mumbling as the match seems to be paused while Pandya's being attended to, however thankfully we all see him get up and brush off the dust.

"Oh my god, thank the lord he's alright!" Mihika says as we smile.

"Hardcore crush, eh?" I nudge her while she blushes. I had heard of Hardik Pandya, but I just knew his name, nothing more, not even what he looked like.

"Yeah. But I like his brother, Krunal too and also Jasprit is pretty hot." Mihu winks.

"Incest girllll!" Falguni teases.

"I don't know half these Mumbai Indians players. I just know RCB players." I laugh.

"Mihika ke saath ek din raho, sab ki history sunha dengi voh." Falguni sips on her coke in the break after RCB finishes their innings.

"But I have to say, out of all of these Hardik Pandya has the saddest history."

"Oh." I nod, not wanting to go into the details of someone I didn't know at all, and frankly I didn't care.

"He got married really young and then had a divorce. His poor boy lives alone without a mother."

I look up at her as she says this, then glance at Hardik who is still passionately prancing around the field, getting prepared for the next innings. His face doesn't show it, and I can't believe his energy hides his inner pain. That's similar to my mum's situation.

"Divorce has become so common, hasn't it?" I say sadly.

Mihika senses my sorrow and immediately changes the topic. "Oh my god! Look - HARDIK'S GIVING AUTOGRAPHS!!!!! SOMEONE COME WITH ME PLEASE!!!!"

"I'm not a fan, dibs not going." I say quickly with a laugh.

"Dibs not." Everyone else says while Mihika frowns, she being the only Mumbai Indians supporter in the group.

"Urgh Fine. I'll come." I say in the end. We hold each other's hands and fight our way to the bottom. Security was everywhere, making human barriers over the stadium fence, over which everyone was leaning over, stretching out their hands for a high five and selfies.

We get into a gap and Mihika is literally screaming at the top of her lungs to attract Pandya as he makes his way over down the length of the stands.

As he approaches us, I take the time to run my eyes over his face. His soft eyes still cannot make me believe he shares a past like my mother's, such a young yet tired face. His lean and attractive physique makes me wonder why his ex wife left him.

Suddenly, he's so close to us, looking up at Mihika who's screaming. For some reason I feel like I've seen this player before. Or maybe it's just called being star struck. And I've probably seen him on TV before anyway.

I convince myself to stop staring like a creep and actually look like I'm a fan instead of analyzing his personal life.

He is looking up right at me now, before looking down quickly at the autograph he is giving to Mihika. I realise I don't have anything, so I grab a tissue paper from my pocket and thrust it forward. He smiles to himself as he takes the tissue in his hand, probably because I was the only person without an autograph book, and signs it, handing it back quickly without even looking at me. It all happened so fast I didn't know what I even did in those few seconds I had to see him. He had already walked away from us to the other side.

"Hey! You got an autograph too?!" Mihika looks at me excitedly.

I nod, kind of speechless.

"You're so star struck!" She laughs at my shocked and amused face. "Come, let's go." She drags me back to our seat.

"Look Guys! I got it!" Mihika shows off her autograph and selfie with Hardik while I stare at my tissue paper.

"When I want an autograph from Virat, you're coming with me!" I laugh.

"Sure, even I like Viru!" Mihika jokes and I slap her playfully.

We all sit down as Mumbai Indians begin their innings. First Rohit Sharma, Ishan Kishan, all them slowly make their way to bat.

Eventually it's Pandya's turn.

"Oh look, it's your one again." I nudge Mihika.

I see him stretch before batting, and he looks around the stadium briefly.

"AND ITS A FOUR!"

I observe his stance, his batting style is actually pretty similar to mine - and no I'm not just saying this because he's the only cricketer I've met in real life, but because his action is like what I imagine doing in my head if I was receiving that ball.

I clap as he hits a six. And another!

"Wow he's good." I say slightly sadly as this is bad for RCB. I look at poor Virat gliding everywhere to try and catch the ball. My heart gives a giant leap everytime he misses, yet I still cheer him on.

"WOAH HE JUST HIT A HUGE SIX."

Unexpectedly, the ball is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly - everything around me becomes a dimming grey. Voices around me sound like ghosts; fuzzy. My ears feel like they're going to explode. My stomach gives a lurch as I feel myself losing control as I fall off my seat.

The only words that I hear are "Nat!! Natasha! Oh my God - someone take her to the hospital!"

Black.