EYES LIKE THAT (Shubman Gill X Ishan Kishan)

please, Ishan

"Come with me," the manager grinds out with difficulty, taking Ishan's elbow by force, pulling it roughly. Ishan feels his finger dig deep into his skin and lets out a yelp.

"Get your hands off him, unless you want to lose them," Shubman says, his jaw tight. Ishan flinches at the anger in his voice.

"Don't you dare interrupt, Shubman. You lost all rights to," the manager snaps, "Stay the night in another hotel, and come back later." He throws an atm card at Shubman and starts leading Ishan to his car.

Shubman wraps his arm around Ishan protectively, trying not to let frustration seep into his voice as he says, "I think you should leave now." He didn't want Ishan to be scared of him.

"Sharam aani chahiye tumhe," the manager's eyes narrow at their contact.

Those words make Ishan wince. He feels the familiar pricks of shame, shock, fear and an inexplicable guilt at having being so intimate with Shubman a while ago.

He felt dirty. He removes Shubman's hands from around him.

"I'm sorry," Ishan manages to say, feeling his throat constrict.

"You should be."

"You—" Shubman shoots an irritated look in the manager's direction.

"Just leave, Shubman," Ishan pleads, his eyes on his feet.

Surprise flits across Shubman's face. He turns to Ishan, willing him to look at him, to say something, anything. The taste of his lips was still on his mouth, yet his high had plummeted to a place beneath hell.

Ishan refuses to meet his eyes.

The manager shoves Ishan into his car and they drive away. They spend the entire ride in silence. When they arrive at the hotel, he turns off the ignition but doesn't open the passenger seat door.

"Ishan, do you know my name?"

Ishan shakes his head, feeling bad about it.

"I'm Kartik Seva. Ishan, I don't mind that you don't know who I am," Kartik says, removing his spectacles and massaging the temples of his eyes.

Ishan cocks his head to the side, this conversation was not taking the turn he had thought it would.

"I mind if you think of me as what I'm not," he emphasizes, "I'm not the villain of your love story."

Ishan begins, "Sir, I never—"

"I'm just a practical man. Telling you to do the practical thing; stop."

"Sir—"

"Listen to me. This would ruin your career. You're internationally exposed cricketers, and people are crazy," he gets straight to the point, "They will not let you live, both of you, if they find out."

"Sir, please, we'll keep it a secret."

Kartik's eyes harden, "Keep it a secret or not. If you continue this, I will have to tell your parents."

Ishan jerks up slightly, unnerved by the threat. His parents were the most supporting, doing all kinds of things just so he could have this career. His father took a promotion just to make more money for him.

They were sweet and kind but they would never understand. Not this. To them, it would be equivalent to him doing high on drugs or some other illegal activity. They won't be able to accept it, that's just how they were wired.

His eyes start to tear up.

"Ishan," the manager says gently, "Forget about everything that happened, I'll switch your rooms and you'll barely meet each other."

"No," Ishan says, frantically wiping his tears, "I'm not going to separated from him. You can tell my parents, I don't care."

"You don't seem to realise, Ishan," Kartik says, in a harsh voice, "This isn't just about you. Nobody gives a f*ck about your feelings or sexuality. This is about the entire cricket team. And hundreds of people's hard work, it would be ruined all because you were selfish."

"How?"

"Are you that naive? Do you really think times have changed? Do you realize how people blind are?  They'll blame anything for bad performance, your new haircut, your new girlfriend, your relationship with your family, your place of birth. Imagine them finding out you're gay. In millions of people, there will be one delusional motherf*cker who would have decided to pop your head off for a lesser reason, and you just gave him the strongest one," Kartik leans back into his seat, looking sad, "That's the reality."

Ishan stays silent.

"Picture it. When you walk out to play, trash gets hurled at you. People will shit on you on the internet. Some might even release a few photoshopped pictures of you, you know what kind of pictures. They'll forget you're human, people tend to do that on the internet."

He pauses, letting his words sink in.

"Picture it. Shubman Gill, the prince. He has his entire future in front of him, possibly a legacy. He has the public under his thumb. But if you continue doing this, you will get found out, and all he will be is a gay player. That's all anyone will talk about, care about. Everything else will get erased. Accept the reality, Kishan."

Ishan breaks down, sobbing, "What then?! I can't leave Shub. I can't! This is my life, and I am not going to live a lie."

He holds his head in his hands, picturing how Shubman had looked when Ishan had asked him to leave.
He didn't think he would be able to look at Shubman again.

"You'll have to. Or you can fight the entire population. Fight your friends. Fight your parents. Change their minds, if you can.
And then live the rest of your life regretting the day you made that choice.
Maybe hundred years from now, things will change. But now, your decision will ruin lives. You decide."

Kartik opens his car doors and Ishan slowly gets out, and walks to his room, in a daze.
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"Please, Ishan," Shubman pleads.
"Talk to me, baby."

"Don't call me that, Shubman."

"Are you saying.... you want to end this?" Shubman tries to keep his voice even but fails. Ishan notices he has dark circles beneath his eyes and wonders whether he slept at all last night.

"It never even began," Ishan squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to show his tears.

Shubman winces, "Don't say that. The manager asked you to say all this, didn't he? Who is he to tell us how to live our lives? I'm not giving my life up for other people."

"It's not about the manager, Shubman," Ishan opens his eyes, and Shubman is taken aback to see the coldness in his eyes, "It's you."

"What?" Hurt flashes across his face.

"It's you. I just.... don't like you like that. I'm sorry." Ishan feels hollow as he says these words.

"Why did you kiss me, then?" Shubman's voice breaks.

"Mistakes happen, Shubman, grow up. I'm not gay. So stop harassing me about this unless you want us to stop being friends."

"Mistake?" Ishan hears his low, cutting voice and flinches.

A pause occurs and it seems to go on forever. Shubman finally gives Ishan an expressionless look and says, "Ok."

He leaves and Ishan is left standing there, every cell of his heart crying out. Screaming at him to run after him, to get on his knees and to beg for his forgiveness. To glue himself to Shubman and never leave his side.

Instead he drops down onto the floor, and leans his head against the room's wall, "Why? Why does this have to be so hard?"

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