author’s note:
first of all, fuck bcci. ishan deserves better than you pieces of shit anyway.
—x—
ishan doesn’t like drinking alone. the last time he did was when he scored a double century against bangladesh, and he’d slept for eighteen hours straight after blacking out. following that, rishabh and siraj were convinced he went into a coma and started crying. ishan had to hear an earful from virat and rohit on the way back home.
once his body shuts off, no one can wake him up.
but right now, passing out for eighteen hours sounds like healing.
shubman is out for his ‘date’ (that ishan deliberately fixed for him) and finally, he can have the room to himself. there’s nothing peaceful about the static silence, it only echoes his thoughts that he desperately wants to get rid of.
so ishan downs glass after glass, alcohol gliding down and leaving a bitter warmth tingling on his tongue, accompanied by a subtle burn that races down his throat. he wants the temporary numbness to last forever.
“what am i even doing?” he whispers to the quiet walls.
he unbuttons his shirt half-way, feeling hot with the liquid in his system. letting out a frustrated sigh, he mumbles, “i don’t know who im hurting.”
he waits- as if expecting someone, something to give him answers.
“sucks, doesn’t it?” he says with a scoff, a humourless laugh spilling out of his lips.
“i loved him, he didn’t.” words slur slightly against his tongue.
“now he loves me, i…” he pauses, thinking what comes next. he doesn’t know. he doesn’t fucking know.
“i can’t,” he sighs.
ishan’s phone flashes with a notification of shubman’s story update. involuntarily, his hand reaches out to tap on it.
it’s a repost of sara’s story, a totally fawn-worthy picture of them smiling next to each other for people who think they are destined to get married and raise the next legend in cricket.
what a load of shit, ishan thinks.
sara, being the angel she is, was kind enough to write “trio is incomplete without @ishankishan23! meet me soon ishu 💗”
ishan drops his phone on the bed, not keen at all to catch himself staring at shubman’s gorgeous face.
he groans, feeling his inner turmoil grow every passing minute. it would be so much easier is shubman just moved on quietly and continue with their normalcy.
cricket, parties and occasional hook-ups. ishan was fine with that. he was fine with the time he and shubman spent together on and off the field, which was more than enough.
he wants to beat the shit out of himself for letting things escalate past the first kiss. it was just a drunk accident which could have been perfectly played off as a joke and buried in the memories. but no, he just had to get caught up in the flow. he just had to help shubman figure things out. he just had to play the best friend until the word best friend lost its meaning for both of them.
look at when he ended up now.
he craves to touch shubman everyday, stay in the safe heaven he finds in him. ishan’s body, his traitorous body, can’t help but react everytime shubman teases him. he easily gets riled up, feeling hot and bothered, wanting more than just the sexual tension between them that never left.
ishan cusses to himself as he swallows another shot angrily, feeling his thoughts take a dirtier turn under the influence of alcohol.
shubman returns to the room smelling of booze. he scrunches his nose, looking at the messy state of ishan- his shirt half undone and hair strands sticking out. for a moment shubman’s stomach drops.
“was someone here?” he asks, looking around.
ishan turns to him with a glare. “why did you come back?”
shubman takes away the glass from his hold, returning his glare. “answer me first. ishan, i swear to god if you fucked someone in our room-”
“i can’t fuck anyone anywhere!” ishan’s voice cuts him short, it comes off more as a whine.
“i would if i could fucking stop thinking about you!” he says with an accusing jab.
shubman frowns. “you’re not special, alright? i haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks either.”
ishan groans, struggling with his words. “shut up. please, shut up.”
shubman pulls him up, trying to make him stand. “i could say a lot if i wanted to, ishan, don’t fuck with me. i have so much to ask you but your coward ass would never answer them, i know it.”
“the fuck you calling a coward?” ishan says, sounding livid. “please, a month ago, you couldn’t even admit you’re a fa-”
shubman pushed him into the bed, glowering above him. “say the word and it’s not going to be good for you,” he snarls.
“see, you still can’t admit it. you don’t like me. you just want someone at your disposal to experiment with-”
shubman doesn’t remember when’s the last time he felt this enraged.
“fuck you, ishan,” he says but the words come out softer than he intended. “that was fucked up.”
ishan lets out a humourless laugh. “i am fucked up, shubi. i am not normal. you still can be. get the fuck away from me.”
at this moment, it dawns on shubman that the situation runs deeper than just ishan not liking him back.
“you’re scared,” he realizes, staring at ishan’s eyes.
“bullshit,” ishan seethes.
shubman stands back up, he doesn’t try to argue. ishan doesn’t seem to be in the right state to communicate with him anyway. drunk ishan is more stubborn than sober.
“it’s okay, let’s calm down. please, calm down, alright?” shubman says, allowing his anger to dissipate.
ishan fusses, “i am calm. actually no, im mad. im mad at you.”
shubman carefully takes a seat beside him, staying at an arm’s length so as to not get pushed away.
“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks in a softer voice, to not trigger him any further.
“don’t call me that,” ishan snaps. “go back to her. you don’t have to waste your night with me.”
“but you sent me- alright, im sorry,” he says with a deep breath. “i shouldn’t have left you alone. look at what you did to yourself.”
shubman reaches to fix his shirt, the contact with his cold hands makes ishan shiver, but he doesn’t pull away.
his eyes still hold a tinge of anger, shubman notices.
“do you want to say anything, baby?” shubman asks.
“i told you not to-”
“do you want me not to?”
he doesn’t respond, looking away. shubman runs his fingers through ishan’s hair. naturally, he leans into the contact.
“can you touch me?” ishan asks, which catches shubman off-guard.
“no,” he replies.
ishan scowls at him. “come on, don’t be a pussy. im letting you use me.”
shubman really wishes he could knock some sense into this guy. ‘not now. he’s drunk and hurt,’ shubman reminds himself.
“don’t talk about yourself like that,” shubman says firmly.
ishan lets out a frustrated groan. “i need it, fuck. something, anything. make me forget all of this.”
shubman keeps brushing his hair gently. “this is not a solution, ishan. get some sleep.”
ishan gets up, shrugging his hand away. “you’re not the last person on earth. plenty of people will fuck me if i ask them.”
shubman doesn’t wait for him to walk another step. he turns ishan around, pulling him back to the bed.
“sit,” he orders.
ishan grunts but complies.
“do you really want to be acting like a bitch in heat? look at yourself, you’re desperate and you’re not even hiding it,” shubman says, trying to find the right words to hold ishan’s attention.
it’s dangerous to deal with ishan in such a vulnerable state. one wrong move and things could go terribly wrong.
it works because ishan doesn’t retort, a flush creeps up his neck.
“you fuck me then if you don’t want me to leave,” he says.
“go fuck yourself.”
ishan scoffs. “very mature.”
shubman sits back, folding his arms. “no. i mean it, fuck yourself. jerk yourself off, whatever. give me a show.”
ishan’s eyes widen, his heart racing. he tries to act unbothered, “i could have done it myself if that’s what i wanted, genius.”
“but you didn’t,” shubman points. “because you wanted someone- no, you wanted me around you, right?”
ishan bites his lip, too embarrassed to come up with anything. “don’t flatter yourself,” he mumbles.
shubman smiles. “hurry up, baby. that boner looks painful for you.”
ishan cusses to himself, glancing a look at his own crotch. he doesn’t even realize how quick his body reacts to shubman.
“pull down the zip.”
ishan does.
“touch yourself.”
ishan’s face feels on fire but he’s bound under the force of shubman’s voice.
his hand is warm when he reaches for it, getting a hold around his length. he tries to remember the feeling of shubman’s cold fingers that had brushed against his chest. he imagines them wrapping around his cock, letting out a small moan.
“what are you thinking, baby?” shubman asks, his voice notching a note deeper. he focuses on ishan’s face, not trusting himself to trail his eyes down.
“you. always, i always think about you,” ishan says, his breaths getting heavy.
“yeah? does it make you feel good when i watch you?”
ishan nods. pressing his cock, he starts pumping it up and down.
“use your words, baby.”
ishan moans instead. “i- yes, i want your attention. i want you to only look at me.”
“you’re such a good boy for being honest,” shubman says softly, leaning forward towards him. he maintains a distance, watching ishan intently.
“are you close?” he asks.
ishan’s lips tremble a little. “help me, please. touch me, shubi i-”
shubman shakes his head, smiling. “im having a rather good view from here, baby.”
ishan tries to glare at him that just comes off as a desperate plea. “please, just touch me. anywhere. kiss me at least, shubi, you’re making me crazy.”
shubman wants to kiss ishan, he really does. more than anything. but not like this. not when ishan is hurt and angry and would forget this the next morning.
ishan loses himself in a mess of words as angry tears trickle down his cheek. “i need you. fuck me, please, fuck me. i can’t take this.”
shubman feels oddly relieved to see his tears, knowing that ishan is starting let his frustration out.
“you can and you will,” shubman says, remaining firm.
ishan’s strokes get faster as his breaths get labored. his eyes start getting lidded as he feels a familiar warmth pool in his stomach.
“cum for me, baby.”
that does it for ishan. he lets it out with a gasp, feeling tingles through his body.
shubman fixes his own pants, trying to hide his boner. ishan reaching his orgasm should be an art, really.
the momentary silence that follows is broken by soft sobs from ishan.
shubman doesn’t say anything, watching ishan’s sobs progressively turn into full-blown crying.
“i hate you. i fucking hate you,” he says, in between his short breaths.
shubman inches closer to him, smiling as he rubs away ishan's tears. “it’s okay, im here. you're okay.”
“i hate you,” ishan repeats.
“i love you too,” shubman says softly.
“you shouldn’t. please don’t.”
shubman’s presses a kiss to his forehead. “you’re the most beautiful boy i’ve ever seen. you're pretty even when you cry,” shubman whispers, trying to make ishan smile.
it just makes him cry more, the broken sobs echoing through the walls of the room. they get worse as the minutes pass and shubman wants to bring the moon to him.
“im sorry,” ishan says, trying to blink away the tears but they just won’t stop. shubman’s heart breaks seeing the pain ishan must have been in all along.
“it’s okay, everything’s fine,” he says with a hush.
“i love you, im sorry,” ishan says with a final sob.
shubman has been waiting to hear this for weeks. he has been yearning, desperately hoping for this moment to happen.
yet, it doesn’t bring him the joy he thought it would. his happiest moment doesn’t matter if his best friend, the man he loves more than life, is crying in his arms, apologizing for loving someone.
“thank you for loving me,” he says, his voice sounding the fondest it has ever been.
“let me show you this time, that it’s okay to love a man. let me love you.”
—x—
author’s note:
pass the weed (internalized homophobia).
i was debating whether to follow up an explicit scene with a moment of vulnerability. but i thought it would be pretty cinematic in a sad, gay indie-movie way. so i urge you to imagine it not with a sense of discomfort but try to understand the intense emotional struggle that he knew no way to verbalize. if it doesn’t come off as sexy to read, it’s because it wasn’t supposed to be.
i read it somewhere a long time ago, it said you can be gay and homophobic. it was supposed to be funny but i thought it was sad at the same time :’)
btw i was getting angry studying physics so i thought i should write smut but then i got emo lmao.