Ishan woke up sometime in the middle of the night with a bit of a headache, shivering, with his arm still around Shubman's comfortable warmth.

The first thing he registered was the peace. He'd almost forgotten peace. He didn't remember the last time he'd woken up from slumber without being immediately gripped by turmoil.

Then, he realized Shubman was weeping, very softly.

"Shubi?" Ishan spoke softly too.

Shubman didn't say anything.

"It's me, Shubi. You know you don't have to hide anything from me."

"Go to sleep, Ish."

It hurt unexpectedly hard. But Ishan knew he deserved it.

"You're angry with me," he stated. "I'm....I'm really sorry for the past month, Shubi. You have every right to be angry."

"I'm not angry," sniffled Shubman. "Or I... I am. If you love me even a little bit, how could you cut me off during my first series as...as captain....when you knew, you knew how it was going to be... If my parents loved me even a little bit, how could they fix a marriage for me during my first series as captain when they knew all that was going on? Now I know... I know the kind of love the people I love the most in the world have for me... it's always about them. Their wishes, their whims, their convenience... Never about just being there because I need it."

Maybe being included in this sort of class with Shubman's parents finally broke through Ishan's self control since he walked out of his home. His cheek felt damp against the pillow. He tried to speak steadily.

"I'm sorry, Shubi, I regret so much now...." Ishan's attempt to pull Shubman a bit closer was met with neither encouragement nor discouragement. "When I saw your interview after the series, I realized how...how stupid I'd been not to consider....I'm so sorry, I just wanted to stop loving you...and I couldn't find any...."

"Did you?" asked Shubman.

"Did I...what?"

"Stop loving me?"

"What kind of stupid question-"

"IF YOU DIDN'T STOP LOVING ME, THEN HOW COULD YOU TURN YOUR BACK OVER ONE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT MONTHS OF MY LIFE LIKE MOM AND DAD DID?"

Shubman had shaken Ishan's arms off and sat up, suddenly crying a lot harder.

"Shubi, I'm so sorry-I was so selfish, so selfish...." Ishan sat up too, and cried harder, too. "I wasn't there and I made it worse for you, I didn't realize till I saw the... the interview..."

"Which interview?" Shubman asked.

"The one right before you got the trophy?"

"What was wrong with that interview?" asked Shubman anxiously.

"Nothing to anyone else," mumbled Ishan, "it seems."

Not even to Shubman's parents did it matter how his eyes looked during the interview, how heartbroken he was, all that had mattered to them was taking advantage of Shubman's vulnerability and fix his marriage.

And Ishan couldn't say he had been any better. All that had mattered to him was trying to get over Shubman, not considering what Shubman was going through.

None of it seemed fair on Shubman.

Ishan buried his head in his knees and wished he could stop sobbing and find a better way to apologize. He couldn't bear the sound of Shubman crying. He couldn't ever bear to look at him.

For some time, both of them just cried.

Then Shubman touched Ishan's forearm tentatively.

"Ishu-"

"I thought of you all the time," Ishan heard himself say.

"So what? It's not like I didn't think of you all the time."

"No, I'm just saying..." Ishan trailed off.

"I want to sulk a bit more," said Shubman. "But I'm not going to. Do you know why?"

"Uh, why?"

"Because you're already upset about the thing with your parents and I'm not going to make it worse for you," said Shubman.

It was not just what he said. 

It was also the way he said it. 

Unpretentious. 

Shubman never pretended or said anything he didn't mean from his heart. He never thought before speaking. Shubman was just, just beautiful. Ishan did not think he had ever loved him more.

"You've never made anything worse for me, Shubi."

Ishan pulled Shubman into his arms as they lay down, snuggling into each other, and kissed him on the nose and between his eyes and brushed the hair from his forehead and the tears from his cheeks. If the fierce burst of love for the boy in his arms hadn't been mingled with equal parts of simple peace, Ishan would have exploded.

"Why are you shivering?" Shubman asked.

"Awfully cold, isn't it?" asked Ishan.

"Um," said Shubman. "It's March. It's not cold." He felt Ishan's forehead and cheeks. "You're burning. I didn't, uh, quite notice before."

Ishan registered why he'd woken up, the headache. "Maybe you should stay away for a bit if I'm going down with fever."

"That's likely." Shubman pulled Ishan against him still closer, as if to shield his body from the cold. "How can you get fever in March, a sportsperson like you?" 

"I don't know," said Ishan. "It was raining when I left, maybe that's how..."

"I suppose it would've ruined the dramatic effect if you'd stopped to find an umbrella," said Shubman.

"Yes, because I was totally doing it for the dramatic effect." Ishan sighed against Shubman's neck. "I haven't got a home anymore, I guess. Any idea where I could stay?"

"Let's fly away to the Himalayas." Shubman said, weaving his fingers through Ishan's hair. "I'll even cook, if you come."

"And clean?"

"No, you have to do that part."

"Okay," said Ishan.

"We can't tell anyone. And we have to make sure no camera follows us. Who can we get to build the house for us?"

"Maybe we could build it ourselves," suggested Ishan.

"And be buried alive eventually?"

"God," said Ishan. "Anything can happen in a dream and no one gets buried alive, all right?"

"All right," said Shubman. "We'll fly away in secret, build a house, and I'll cook and you'll clean. And we can wake up each morning and watch the sunrise."

"And I will know the world is ending the day you wake up early," said Ishan.

"It's a dream," repeated Shubman with a yawn. "Anything can happen."

"Point. Okay, we will watch the sunrise every day."

To Ishan, even the present moment felt a bit like a dream. Shubman and he tangled in each other's arms, nose to nose, with no one passing comments or verdicts or threatening to defame or disown them.

Shubman yawned again.

"How long has it been since you slept properly?" Ishan asked.

"No idea," said Shubman. "You?"

"No idea. But I'm sure I've slept more than you." Ishan touched Shubman's eyelids lightly and shut them. "Go to sleep, my love."

Shubman grinned with his eyes closed obediently. "My love?"

"What's your problem?"

"Um, nothing, my love. Good night, my love."

Ishan's annoyance was short-lived, or possibly non-existent.

Shubman must have been pretty sleepy, because he was already starting to breathe evenly. His cheek was still dimpled with the trace of a smile. 

How was he so beautiful all the time? 

Ishan traced a pattern around Shubman's ear and down the side of his neck, almost unconsciously. Shubman squirmed.

"I can't sleep if you keep doing that," he complained.

"Oh, sorry-it's just that it's hilarious, how ticklish you are...."

"Don't get me started again," said Shubman sleepily.

Ishan tried to nestle closer to Shubman. It wasn't possible, because they were already pressed together forehead to toe. Shubman caught one of Ishan's hands and kept it clasped between them.

Ishan's cheeks hurt with smiling so hard when he drifted back to sleep.