TW: To anyone who has anything negative to say about Hardik, please don't scroll down, for both my sanity and yours.

***

After MI lost their first match of the season, Hardik, who didn't know what to do, did what he always did when he didn't know what to do: go and hug Rohit.

Rohit turned around with a stern air.

"What's the use of hugging me now? You don't listen when I say something either way."

Hardik took a step back. The latest decision he'd taken against Rohit's advice, after the bowlers' ends, was himself going down at Number 7.

"I thought I'd finish if off if the game went deep--" His voice wouldn't rise much above a meek mutter.

"It wouldn't gave gone deep if you'd gone early," said Rohit, exasperated. "Why d'you have to experiment with the tried and tested things like your own batting position?"

"I--"

"I know," said Rohit, overriding him. "So you opened the bowling like you've doing the past couple of years. So it didn't work out the best way. That doesn't mean you've got to deviate from everything you've been doing the past two years."

"Um--"

"You got scared," said Rohit, simply. "And you can't get scared. Least of all, right now."

There was more than a ring of truth to what Rohit was saying. Moreover, people around in the field were trying to listen in discreetly--of course they would. And the cameras were, probably, right then on them, too.

If they weren't, Hardik might've braved the risk of Rohit's wrath and tried to hug him again. 

Anyway, the presentation ceremony was being announced.

"Go," said Rohit.

And come right back, because I'm not done was very clearly implied to Hardik's ears.

_________________ 

He didn't go back to his camp after the interview, however. His feet took him automatically to his old camp, and he was grateful when he found Shubman without much trouble--he came jumping over at once.

"I was good, wasn't I, Hardik bhai?" demanded Shubman, brightly.

Something about the way Shubman talked to him and looked at him, with shining reverence, made Hardik smile every time, no matter what his mood might be.

"You were the best," he said, indulgently, grabbing the kid in a hug and pulling his cheeks. "I never doubted it, you know."

Shubman beamed. "Thank you, Hardik bhai. I was terrified when you were batting in the last over. I expected the ball to go flying above my head any minute."

Ever since the craziness had crept--barged--into Hardik's life three months ago, Shubman sometimes felt the only breath of fresh air. He could not possibly be uncomprehending about what was going on, but he was the only one who acted like he didn't.

As they took a walk around the nearly-empty stadium, Shubman chattered constantly about all the decisions he'd taken and how he'd concluded immediately after taking each of them that they were going to be disastrous. Hardik slung his arm around his shoulders and tried to pay full attention--the kid tended to get mad if he didn't get that--but his mind was drifting, like his eyes.

 "--then I decided to stop worrying about how it could go wrong, because I wanted to be a fearless captain like you, Hardik bhai--"

That caught Hardik's attention abruptly.

"--I wanted to be like you, overall."

"Did you, now?" said Hardik, wryly.

 "Right since you walked into our camp the first time two years ago," said Shubman, earnestly.

"You need to make better choices, kiddo." Hardik ruffled his hair. His eyes wouldn't stop constantly roving around the emptying stadium.

"No," said Shubman. "I want to become like you and Virat bhai and Rohit bhai, and I couldn't have better choices."

Possibly, Hardik only imagined the serious undertone in the kid's voice.

Or possibly it was actually there.

Either way, it meant the world to him.

_________________

Rohit couldn't stop the pangs of guilt when they were back at the hotel. Hardik had disappeared soon after the presentation. He tended to do that very often these days, but it didn't stop Rohit from worrying.

"Went into the GT camp as usual," Jassi told him grouchily when they were boarding the bus.

"Hm, I expected as much..."

Rohit wished he hadn't scolded him right after the horror nightmare of the match ended. Even years of being an elder brother to a bevy of idiots, it seemed, hadn't taught him much.

"Sometimes, he gets on my nerves, Rohit bhaiya," said Jassi.

"Sometimes?" asked Rohit, amused.

Jassi gave him a sardonic grin. "I feel like," he said, slowly, "Hardik's avoiding us."

"That's because he is," said Rohit.

"What gives him the right to do that?" flared Jassi. "What gives him the right to shut us out when we're equally involved in this batshit drama?"

"He's at the centre of the, er, batshit drama, Jass," said Rohit, though his heart sank even more. "He deserves to choose where he finds whatever comfort there's to be had."

"If he think he can go hunting from comfort away from the two people who care the most about him--and why is he letting your batshit crazy fans get to him, anyway, Rohit bhaiya?"

Rohit winced.

"I'd prefer you refrain from associating them with me, Jassi."

Jassi smiled a little. "I feel sorry for you."

Rohit nodded. "Yup, me too."

Jassi rested his chin on his palm pensively. Rohit leaned back against his seat--also pensively, he supposed--and wondered when Hardik would be back. 

Hopefully soon.

But in spite of everything he'd tried, Hardik had kept shying away. What was to say he wouldn't continue this the whole tournament, or worse, all his life?

If Rohit closed his eyes, all he could see was his little brother's face--stone-like, but broken all the same--on the field that day, or during the press conference earlier, or at the airport when they came face to face after a couple of months.

No matter how hard Rohit tried to make it clear he was a separate entity from the outcry going on in his name across the across, Hardik wouldn't close the distance.

If they're truly my fans, how can they not realize they're making in a million times worse for me?

_________________

During Rohit's brief nap right after the bus journey (nap because he had neither changed nor eaten), he was woken by a persistent knocking on the door.

Normally, such meek knocks wouldn't even make him stir. Maybe today even his subconsciousness knew who the knocks might belong to.

"It's open," he called.

The door opened a crack.

"Can I come in, Rohit?"

"Yes, please come right in," said Rohit. "Didn't I tell you to come back after the presentation?"

"No, you didn't," said Hardik, promptly.

"Don't pretend ignorance." 

Rohit studied Hardik's demeanour as he slouched into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. It hadn't improved much.

Though Rohit hadn't planned on saying it, he said, "Sorry for yelling at you right after the match, Harry. All decisions that don't work out aren't necessarily--"

"No, you're right, I just went down late because I was sc-scared of what did happen in the end--but you shouldn't--I know you wouldn't ever have said sorry for yelling at me, earlier, I mean, if--if everything was normal--" Hardik buried his head in his arms as soon as his eyes welled up. "I'm sorry I'm troubling you when you're sleepy, Rohit--bhai-bhaiya--I'm not sure what I came to say, either..."

Maybe it was the crack of uncertainty that broke through Rohit's helplessness about the whole situation, that at least made him pull Hardik rather abruptly into his arms. Hardik swung his legs onto the bed and adjusted till he was breathing into Rohit's chest.

"Everything that concerns just the two of us is normal, Hardik--or as normal as it can be, I guess," Rohit said, trying to choose his words carefully, which itself proved the situation wasn't normal. "I didn't say sorry for yelling at you, by the way...I said sorry because it made you disappear and all...I didn't mean to upset you. That's normal, isn't it?"

"Dunno," said Hardik, thickly.

Rohit raked his fingers through Hardik's hair.

"Where'd you go off to? To talk to Shubi?"

"H-how did you--guess?"

"Oh, we all need a Shubman in our lives when things get too bad," said Rohit breezily. "What was he saying?"

Hardik took a shaking breath.

"All about his first day at captaining." For the first time, he sounded a little less miserable. "It reminded me of--"

He trailed off. Rohit knew without him saying, but his heart sank still further, simply because Hardik had trailed off. Because Hardik thought twice before speaking to him these days, even when, it appeared, he was clinging to him.

"I know," said Rohit, trying to sound upbeat. "It reminds you of your first day as captain two years back. I remember you keeping me awake half the night afterwards."

Hardik laughed softly in Rohit's chest.

"He also said--he said, he wanted to become a--a fearless captain...like me." 

Hardik spoke hesitantly, pausing between every two words, but at least he was speaking. Rohit held his breath--anything not to trigger him into shutting up again.

"But I sent them ahead of me because I was scared, Rohit bhaiya. You're right--like you always are. I should've just--listened to you and Jassi, but--"

"I understand. You were scared."

"I always thought I was brave," choked Hardik. "I've always been proud, even, because I never felt scared of anything...I wasn't even scared about what's going to happen to us after dad...I wasn't like Krunal--"

"We think being brave means not to feel scared," Rohit murmured softly. "But you know what is true bravery? It's fear and then conquering the fear. Today for the most part, in the field...you took your own decisions, Hardik. Even when Jassi and I disagreed--and I still do, by the way, some of your decisions were far from wise--you stuck to your own decisions, even though you knew how the hostile crowd was going to react during the match, and the hostile world afterwards. That's bravery."

Rohit closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling of Hardik's shivering form clinging to him.

"And I was proud of you all along, kiddo, even if I was so--" Rohit's voice seized up. "--so mad at you for shutting me out and putting on that act of yours with...me."

"I don't put up an act--"

"Yes, you do, Harry," said Rohit, tender in spite of years of exasperation. "Maybe you don't realize it, but you've always done that. But it was fine, so long as you never did it with me. So long as you were like this..." Glad that Hardik's face was hidden and he couldn't see Rohit's tears, Rohit ruffled Hardik's hair and pulled him closer, if it was possible at all. "...with me."

Hardik's sobs went from weeping to convulsing.

"What?" asked Rohit, alarmed. "What, Hardik? It's all right now, isn't it?"

"It's all right now, but tomorrow morning, I don't know if--I can't be sure anymore these days that I haven't wrong you, Rohit bhaiya--or that you...don't...hate me--so I can't be sure how I'll be with you tomorrow morning--and you're going to be mad again--"

There used to be a kiddish game of his and Jaddu's that they'd long forgotten: if I could I would...

Today, Rohit had an answer.

If I could I would raze every person who broke my little brother like this.

But he couldn't.

He needed a moment to ensure he could speak steadily. "No, I won't. I was not really mad, you know. Instead, I'll keep reminding you."

"Reminding me what?"

"That you haven't wronged me, that I don't hate you--in fact, that I love you more than these people who make you doubt it hate you, combined."

Hardik was quiet, maybe trying to work out the maths, or maybe because he still wasn't much in a state to speak.

When he did speak at last, he said, "I'll be grateful if you do."

"Who do you think you're talking to? A selection committee? A doctor?"

Hardik lifted his face, tear-stained and confused. "What?"

Rohit had to try not to sound as exasperated as he felt, which was so familiar with the idea of talking to Hardik that he absurdly felt better himself.

"Meaning, you're being being more formal than I'm going to accept. You'll be grateful to me, seriously?"

"Oh," said Hardik, wiping his nose and sniffling. "I just meant--can you please remind me very often, Rohit bhaiya? It'll be, um, helpful."

Rohit didn't realize he was smiling till he was. That meant Hardik was forced to flash back some semblance of a smile, too.

"Every hour," said Rohit. "Every half hour, if you want."

"Every minute," said Hardik. "Every second."

His smile widened just a bit. There was mostly terror in that smile, but there was also a dash of resilience, a dash of courage. And when a person was broken, even small steps of courage counted.

"Deal," said Rohit.

***

A/N:I don't cry while writing mostly, but I am. I would raze them all if I could, too.