the flashing lights (shubman gill × ishan kishan)

what a night it was

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we see someone tossing and turning in their bed. not an ounce of sleep in his eyes. he couldn't guess if it was the caffeine running through his veins or the countless thoughts that kept him awake. he was trembling, despite the heat wave going on. with a swish, he got up and swept off the beads of sweat running through his forehead. he reached over to his drawer and gulped down the valium prescribed by the doctor. he slid down his bed and sat on the floor with a thud. he leaned into the hard frame of the wooden bed. he let his eyes close and took a deep breath though the discomfort. with no strength in his legs left, he passed out on the cold floor.

ishan's pov

the sunrays slid directly into the room. i opened my eyes at the discomfort, only to find myself on the floor...again.

i sighed.

i've been having these anxiety episodes for the past few months. since the first episode, i've been frequently visiting the therapist to a point we kind of became friends. i shared everything that could've led to this, keeping aside a few personal thing. he was attentive all these time, very patient with me and it made me feel at ease. he concluded that it could be due to some traumatic event of the past. but i could hardly recall anything seriously traumatic happening to me, other than the time i lost my father. but i believe it couldn't be because of my father.

we cherish him everyday. i never felt my father leave my side. though not physically, yet he was still there for me everytime, like a guardian angel; protecting me from any danger, be it in the form of an old man who helped me find my mom back when i got lost in the crowd as a kid or the time someone warned me against walking on the street gutters, only to find the news of someone falling down into the gutter as the storm blew away its roof, leaving it open, the next day.

his death could never be a trauma for me, it was a testament of my father's love for the country and i could never not be proud of that. although it hit us like a storm, but we, my mom, me and my brother, stood still and never let it break us down.

taking a deep breath, i kept aside these thoughts and stretched my body.

"damn, my whole body aches so much. curse this damned floor."

i stood up and quickly made my trip to the bathroom. done with my morning routine, i slipped some clothes on and since it was still early, i headed downstairs to make some breakfast.

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"damn, i didn't knew i could make such tasty pancakes."

after finishing the last bites of his delicious breakfast, with enough time still in his hand, he made his way to the stadium.

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after a period of abiding by the script and shoots, ishan plopped himself into the lounge sofa. it was already late in the evening and his crew had already left. ishan noticed the dim lights of the stadium and the stands, which once packed with people, now giving a very eerie feeling. with no one there, he made his way towards the fields.

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he noticed the practice nets, the dugout, the big stadium lights. everything felt so..? he couldn't exactly pinpoint what he felt. such a crowded place bustling with every sort of noise, cheers, boos, curses, praise, now stand so calm and cool that it almost felt odd.

the stadium has witnessed so many things; it witnessed the enraged crowd, often misleaden into hating their own players, it witnessed the affection of people towards their loved players, it witnessed individualism, teasing, slogans, slangs and what not. but even after all of that, it still stood as the pillar of strength to the players when they played for their country.