During the South Africa tour in January 2011, the excitement and suspense over the squad selection for the World Cup reached a fever peak.

Rohit and Virat had both made it to the 30-man squad and Virat was already dreaming of playing a home World Cup as his first. He hadn't realised how much he had taken his and Rohit's places in the squad for granted till, on the eve of the 3rd ODI, the squad was announced.

And his name was there, but Rohit's wasn't.

The wave of joy he felt when he saw his name got halved swiftly as he read through the list twice and couldn't find Rohit's name.

It couldn't be happening.

Rohit was better than him. If the selectors had to choose between them, surely Rohit's name should have come first.

For the first time, Virat dreaded facing Rohit at the practice session. He had no idea what he could say; and there was that underlying guilt that he had... somehow... stolen something that Rohit deserved.

___________

Rohit didn't turn up for the practice session and to Virat's relief, no one questioned it. Maybe Rohit had informed Mahi bhai and the seniors.

After they returned to the hotel, Virat was siezed by an awful dilemma of 'Should I go to him?' or 'Should I not?'

He shouldn't leave his friend alone at a time like this...but what if it seemed like he has gone to gloat over Rohit if he did go?

___________

Not seeing his name in the squad--which was totally unexpected, Rohit had to admit--hurt much worse than he might have imagined. But deep down Rohit knew that he had been far too inconsistent, he had wasted opportunities, thrown away his wicket--and been an awfully fool, really.

The final would be in Mumbai... how he had longed to win the final for India in his hometown...

The thought of Virat travelling with the World Cup team, without him, suddenly made the ache in his chest worse.

What was he thinking?

Virat deserved it, of course he did. His numbers speak for his consistency, and they were much, much better than Rohit's.

He couldn't really hide from the world forever. He would have to face them sooner or later--and why not start with the closest friend he had in the team?

Gathering all his courage together, Rohit went out of his room and came face to face with Virat.

Rohit involuntarily averted his eyes and said stammeringly, "Oh--hi, Virat...I was just going out to look for you."

Rohit hadn't looked away fast enough for Virat to miss the awful sadness in his eyes.

"Me too," said Virat, wondering desperately about how to deal with the situation.

"Come inside for a while," Rohit said, stepping into his room.

There was a silence in the room which neither of them knew how to break.

"It's not fair," said Virat at last, and he really did think it was unfair. "You're better than me, Rohit--"

"Virat," Rohit interrupted fiercely. "Of course I'm not better than you! How can you even say that?"

"You're more talented," muttered Virat and knew straightaway that it had been the worst thing to say, because Rohit suddenly looked very cold.

"I hate that word," said Rohit venomously. "It makes it seem like I haven't had to work for any of it!"

"That's not what I meant at all!" cried Virat, wishing that he had a little more tact. "I just--it's just--"

"Sorry," said Rohit quickly. "It's not your fault, I'm being mean to you for no reason." Rohit sighed heavily.

Rohit went back to staring at the floor fixedly. Virat wished Mahi bhai was here. He would be able to deal with Rohit much better. Or Sachin sir. Or anyone.

He was absolutely the worst person for the job; he had only succeeded in hurting Rohit more, and what good was he as a friend if...

Finally Rohit looked up at Virat.

"I'm happy for you, Virat, I really am!" he blurted in what came out as a desperate tone, but as he said it, he realised that it was true. Even if he couldn't go to the WC, at least Virat could.

Rohit looked genuine enough for Virat to believe him at once.

"I know, I... of course I know that," said Virat. By now, every bit of happiness he had felt at being selected had vanished. "We'll play the 2015 WC together!" he tried cheerfully.

"By the 2015 WC, I'll be out of the team permanently for good," said Rohit flatly.

"You will not give in to negativity like that," said Virat, suddenly sounding very grown up. "I tell you we'll both play in the 2015 WC."

"Um...ok," said Rohit, because what else could you say to a forceful command like that?

Virat inched closer to Rohit and tentatively put his arm around his shoulders. Rohit didn't pull away.

After a while, Rohit whispered, "Do you think it's going to get better if I pretend I don't care?"

Virat thought about it carefully.

"Maybe yes," he said honestly. "But I don't think you'll be able to make yourself believe that you don't care."

"I know."

"Though it might make facing everyone easier."

"That's what I was thinking."

"But you don't..." Virat trailed off. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know."

Rohit looked at him with a wry smile on his face.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to pretend to you."

__________

On 2nd April, 2011, India lifted the World Cup after 28 years.

Though Virat was fearfully happy, he could neither comprehend nor share the tearful joy of the seniors of the team.

Amidst the wild celebrations, in which Virat joined in fully, he couldn't help feeling that this... wasn't where he belonged.

Not really.

It was only years later that Virat realised where he truly belonged--his 2013 Champions Trophy team.

___________

Later that night, Virat slipped away from the party and called Rohit, who answered at once.

"Where are you?" asked Virat.

"Home," said Rohit.

"Want to meet up somewhere?"

"Yes--please."

Virat noted the desperation in his voice grimly.

They were in the same city, obviously, so in half an hour, they were walking down the Mumbai streets together, watching the insane celebrations.

"I think I'm going mad, Virat," Rohit said suddenly. "It feels like the heartbreak of losing the 2003 WC in the final is finally healed--and I feel so happy it's almost scary--but--but..."

Virat remained silent.

"I wish I was there so badly--I don't think I've ever felt worse, either," said poor Rohit, on the verge of tears. "Everyone is so happy, I must be the only person in the whole country who is not feeling undiluted joy, Virat, I'm so pathetic--I'm such a terrible person, I can't even..."

Rohit dissolved into tears at that point, and the only thing Virat could think of doing was hugging him hard and saying, "That doesn't make you pathetic--of course you wish you were there. I don't see anything wrong with that!"

"You don't understand," sobbed Rohit. "I don't deserve to be Indian! We belong to the best country in the world and I'm--so...ungrateful and--horrible--"

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Virat sternly. "You're not sad because India won, you idiot. You just wish you were there!"

"I know you don't hate me, but you should, really," mumbled Rohit.

"Rohit!" said Virat forcefully. "Will you stop speaking nonsense? Lots of people who don't play a WC at the age of 24 go on to win a WC later on. Look at Mahi bhai! He won it for us today... maybe someday, you and I--"

"Will win a World Cup for India?" Rohit's voice had stopped shaking.

"It might happen, you never know."

"Maybe the 2019 WC," said Rohit, half sarcastically.

"Maybe."

When Rohit let Virat hold him and comfort him on the happiest and saddest night of his life, they didn't know what the 2019 WC would mean to them and their team one day in the future.

knows.