2nd T20I, India vs West Indies, Eden Gardens, 2022

India was in a slight spot of bother when Rohit put Bhuvi in to bowl his third. The set batsman miscued a lofted shot which shot straight up.

Bhuvi, on the spur of the moment, looked around to see if anyone else was going to claim it, then ran for it himself. In doing so, he'd done the exact thing players going for a high catch should not do—take their eyes off the ball.

He dropped it.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Rohit kicked the ball which had rolled over to his feet.

Bhuvi paused in the action of hitting his forehead in frustration and looked up, stunned just like everyone around.

"Why don't we just give up the match to them already?" snarled Rohit, storming back to his fielding position.

Bhuvi exchanged a look with Virat, who was staring wide-eyed from point, before going to take his run-up.

****************

Later, after Bhuvi had won India the match with an extraordinarily miserly penultimate over, Rohit praised him extravagantly at the presentation, but was too ashamed and horrified to talk to him directly.

Virat slipped into the seat beside a silent Rohit in the bus.

"I'm sorry," said Rohit.

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to," said Virat.

"You're the only one I dare to say that to," sighed Rohit, "because how can I possibly face him after that—that—"

"—losing control incident," suggested Virat.

"I don't lose control," said Rohit.

"Welcome to the extremely enviable post of national captain, Ro."

"But I never lose control like you!"

Virat coughed.

"I can't believe I yelled at Bhuvi—in front of the—the juniors..."

"You're lucky it's Bhuvi, who is mature enough to deal with it. Few years ago, I yelled at Kuliya on the field and he was convinced I hated him," said Virat, half-fond, half-exasperated at the memory.

"How did you convince him otherwise?"

"Talked to him," said Virat with a nudge. "He's right there—go and talk to him. Bhuvi doesn't take offence, Bhuvi doesn't hold grudges, Bhuvi will just smile and say, never mind, I know you didn't mean it."

"Like you would've been so guiltless if you'd been the one who had shouted at Bhuvi, Virat," said Rohit in disgust and made himself stand up and call, "Bhuvi—" before he could double guess himself.

Virat leaned over the backrest of the seat in front, occupied by Rishabh, ruffled his hair and tried to listen in.

Bhuvi did exactly what Virat had known he would, which made Rohit even more upset with guilt.

And Virat knew he would've felt the same, and he realized he did not miss the guilt after a losing-control incident about captaincy.

*****************

Jinks and Pujji were excluded from the squad of the Sri Lanka series—the first time ever since Pujji's debut in 2012 and Jinks's in 2013.

It was, if you were fair, inevitable. The duo had averaged in the lower 20s over the past two years, and Rohit and Rahul, the captain and vice-captain who were on conference call with the board of selectors, knew it had been coming, and could not do anything when it came.

That night, Rohit could not catch a wink of sleep. He lay staring at the ceiling, unable to rouse himself for dinner, or say a 'come in' when someone knocked.

He did not know who it was.

He did not care.

The ceiling appeared golden in the suffused light from the lamps, but to Rohit, everything seemed black. Grey, at least.

He searched inside him for sadness—he did not find it. He just—didn't feel anything.

He had been part of the decision of dropping his best friend from the only format of national cricket he played, and he felt nothing.

After a long, long time of gazing at the expressionless ceiling, a soft, "Hey," broke him out of his stupor.

Rohit still could not bring himself to speak as Virat came up to sit beside him, switching on the main light and setting a plate on the bedside table.

"I think you should eat something," said Virat.

"What—what time is it?" croaked Rohit.

"Almost four. You've been lying in the same position for the past—what? Seven hours?"

"Don't know," mumbled Rohit.

Virat knew, though, because he'd been peering into the room, every hour to see if Rohit had slept. Immersed in his misery, the latter hadn't even noticed.

"So, would you, um, eat a little something?"

"I can't even think of it," said Rohit. "You don't—you don't know how...unreal this feels."

Virat sighed.

"That I should be the one dropping him," said Rohit, sounding stunned.

"I do know, Ro, I saw your name being excluded in front of my eyes in 2018," said Virat.

"But you and Jinks fought to bring me back," Rohit said in a whisper. "Jinks fought for me...I didn't fight for him."

"Give it a series or two," said Virat. "Let him give you something to fight for by his domestic runs. You can't fight with nothing, Rohit. We couldn't fight for you in the England tour. We did only before the Australia tour."

"How will I ever talk to him again, Virat? How can I call him? How can I tell him?"

"Oh, Rohit, it's not like that—"

"What if he thinks I dropped him?"

"You didn't drop him."

"What if he thinks I did?" asked Rohit desperately.

"So what? If someday you're forced to drop your friend for the interests of the team—how does that have anything to do with your bond with him?"

"A friend shouldn't be forced to do things like that." Rohit sounded absolutely broken.

Virat was about to tell him to stop overreacting before he remembered the first time he'd been made to take these decisions in 2014, too, and how—for lack of a better word—traumatizing they used to be.

"No, they shouldn't," he said instead. "It's too cruel."

"Do you think Jinks can ever forgive me? I mean—inside?" asked Rohit. "I know he won't say anything. But inside..."

"Have you forgiven me?" asked Virat.

"Forgive you? What did you do?" asked Rohit, baffled.

"It's funny how you can't see how I've done the exact same thing you did today," said Virat sardonically.

"What—dropping me? That was different," said Rohit unthinkingly.

"Sure it was," said Virat. "Mention one point how it was different, and I'll take your word for it."

Rohit thought for a whole minute and could not come up with a point. Because the two situations were identical.

"Er," he said, thrown off. "I can't truthfully say I was ever mad at you at all, so the question of forgiveness never came into the question."

Virat grinned.

"And Jinks is a nicer person than you," he said smoothly. "So there's no chance of him being mad or hurt at all."

Rohit thought some more about that.

"Tests are going to be so strange without him," he said finally. "I mean, he's been around forever. At the slips, at number four."

Virat, who was in a philosophical mood, smiled wryly—so wryly that it seemed more a grimace. Personally, he thought no one could possibly miss Jinks more than he did—though both Rohit and Jassi would claim to—because Virat-Jinks had been synonymous with Indian Test cricket for eight straight years, and Virat could not imagine a red ball without his vice-captain.

Well, he wasn't captain anymore either.

Everything was changing, and Virat didn't think they were changing fast enough with it.

"Let's go and surprise him with a visit," he said suddenly.

"What?" said Rohit blankly.

"Don't be dumb, you know that's the only thing that's going to make you feel better." Virat pulled Rohit up, giving him a shake into the bargain.

"You can, er, initiate the conversation," said Rohit, nervously.

"God, Rohit," said Virat, almost laughing. "This is Jinks you're talking about, you do know that?"

Rohit didn't say anything more, focusing on hunting for travel clothes instead (how he got his room so messy, no one knew).

Virat certainly did not miss the misery of dropping his closest friends and younger brothers about being captain, either.

******************

Rohit and Virat took the earliest Kolkata-Mumbai flight and reached Jinks's place before the clock struck seven. The former automatically tried to fall back when Virat rang the doorbell about thrice before Jinks opened with a welcoming grin.

"Morning, Vi, Ro," he said.

Wasn't he supposed to be a little more surprised, wondered Rohit.

"Please don't tell me you're cooking," said Virat, glancing at Jinks's spectacularly messy apron.

"Well, I am," said Jinks defensively. "Come in, breakfast's almost ready. I made blueberry pancakes," he added to Rohit, normal and cheerful.

"What a coincidence!" said Virat brightly. "Aren't blueberry pancakes your favourite, Rohit?"

"Er—" said Rohit, because of course they were, and everyone knew it.

Could it be a coincidence, he wondered, now growing suspicious.

But how could Jinks have possibly guessed they were coming?

They followed Jinks into the kitchen. Though it smelt nice, of melting butter and fresh milk, the slabs and floors were shamefully messy.

"You know anyone can copy instructions from YouTube and make good looking food, right, Jinksy?" said Virat conversationally as Jinks poured an uneven bit of batter into the patter, most unprofessionally. "Good cooks are those who have at least a little bit of originality inside them."

"Do me a favour and don't talk for a minute, Cheeku," requested Jinks.

Rohit laughed.

Jinks's cooking phase had started from the lockdown in 2022 and had not yet passed. Truly he did not have a mite of originality inside him, because the few times he'd tried a dish without consulting YouTube step by step had ended in disaster.

Virat, who was a decent chef himself used to constantly tease him about it, and Rohit—who had never been allowed to step into the kitchen, first by his mother, then by his wife—used to take it upon himself to stick up for Jinks.

"These are supposed to be fluffier," Virat commented after a while, sticking a fork into one of the pancakes. "You didn't beat it long enough."

Rohit broke off a bit to taste it.

"They're awesome, Jinks," he said.

"I know," said Jinks matter-of-factly.

Soon they were seated around the table, Virat with his back to the window, Rohit on his right and Jinks on his left, just like they always automatically did.

Afterwards they went upstairs to fetch an elated Aarya and went for a walk in the alleys, in the fixed route they always took.

At some point, Rohit realized with a slight shock, that he'd forgotten what they'd come for in the first place. But everything was so normal...what had he been worrying so much about?

Jinks would score lots of runs in the Ranji Trophy and Rohit would make sure he was back in the team.

And even if by any chance, he wasn't able to do that, what difference would it make? Ajinkya Rahane would always remain a legend for Indian Test cricket. He would always be lifting the trophy of India's greatest Test victory.

And Jinks would always be his best friend.

********************

Seven hours earlier...

Is Rohit all right?

I don't think so. Isn't talking to anyone

I knew it

I knew it too

If you can, bring Rohit here

To Mumbai?

Yeah, I'll make blueberry pancakes for him. He'll forget it all

...

Sounds like the Rohit we know

I'll miss you, Jinks

I'll miss the batting part, too

But the three of us literally live in the same city, Vi, why do we ever need to miss each other?

Virat smiled into his phone.

Everything was changing, but there would always be those few little things that never would.

A/N: Idea credits and dedicated to: