Rohit Sharma was not a sentimental person.

Anyone who knew him would vouch for that fact. That was not to say he lacked emotions--he did not--or he lacked understanding--he owned more of it than most did, in fact.

But he was not a sentimental person.

Yet, when he'd successfully (and with much difficulty) pleaded his way out of the rowdy New Year's party their hotel in Cape Town had organized and which his juniors wanted him to attend with them, and tried to go to sleep with an hour still to go for midnight, sleep evaded him.

10 years ago--exactly 10 years ago--he had spent a New Year in this country, too. It had been just after his first Test series in South Africa, his first foreign Test series. The second Test series of his life. India's first Test series without Sachin sir in 24 years.

Stats. Stats. Inconsequential stats.

It was not the stats which did not let him sleep. It was the ghosts of the people from New Year's eve of a coming 2014, in their mid-twenties--Rohit and Virat and Jinks, Shikhar and Bhuvi, Ash and Jaddu--and it was the memories. Already, they seemed so long ago.

Rohit felt like he was chasing ghosts, laughing and running down corridors, full of energy and naivety, almost stupid in their faith in the world, planning their next escapade.

Before he'd realized he was physically chasing the ghosts, he was out of bed, and out in the corridors, sure he'd seen Virat and Jaddu darting up the stairs pell-mell, bent double with hysterical laughter.

He wandered out into the lawn.

It had probably just been Shreyas and Shubman, causing trouble. Things Rohit termed trouble now. Things he would have laughed at ten years ago, too.

"Didn't you go to sleep?"

Rahul's voice roused Rohit out of his stupour.

"Didn't Virat and Shubi convince you to attend the party?" Rohit asked in turn.

"I couldn't stand all the noise," said Rahul, and offered the glass he held to Rohit. "Cranberry juice?"

"Just cranberry juice?" said Rohit sardonically, but took a sip nevertheless--a tiny one.

Rahul's lips twitched.

10 years ago, at the New Year's party, Rohit had probably sneaked around with Virat, Jaddu and Shikhar, trying to sneak 'cranberry juice' of this nature under Mahi bhai's nose. Bhuvi would have been giving them judgmental looks. Jinks and Ash would have been trying to stop them, but not trying too hard--they'd have wanted to see how the plan worked out, too.

Or maybe Rohit was imagining it up.

Maybe it hadn't happened on 2013's eve at all, but sometime else. Plenty of times else. It had been their regular, for years--years when they travelled together all year.

"Are you bothered by anything?" Rahul's voice broke in again.

"Don't you usually love loud music, like Virat?" countered Rohit, again.

"Stop answering with questions," said Rahul with a frown.

"Well, it's a sport," said Rohit, "and I'm in that mood."

"The real question is why you're in that mood."

Rohit took the glass as Rahul passed it back to him after a couple of sips. This time he drained it. Rahul raised an eyebrow, but held his tongue.

It did use to a sport for them, among hundreds of sports. Jaddu was the best at it, purely because he had the swiftest and wildest imagination. He would answer 'what do you want for dinner?' with 'why do fireflies glow?' without a bat of an eyelash. He would also answer 'why do we always qualify for the knockouts?' to 'why do we always lose in the knockouts?' and make everyone feel better, just like that.

Had Rohit ever told them how much their friendship had meant to him all these years? How they'd made the past ten years the best of his life, just by existing? Had he ever, even, told them how much he loved them?

He hadn't.

He feared he hadn't grasped it at all, how much he loved them.

He was an unsentimental person. He did not shout out his love like Virat did. He did not sob 'I love you' on his friends' shoulders like Shikhar did. He did not go out in press conferences and give statements of support for his friends like Ash did, like Jinks did. He did not constantly worry about his friends like Bhuvi did. He did not even try to hide his emotions with such exaggerated cheer that it became see-through like Jaddu did.

Did his family even know how much he loved them?

Did he know much he loved them?

The boy in front of him gazing at him with silent concern was a huge part of that family. Quietly, unobtrusively, he'd even become Rohit's greatest support system the past couple of years. Virat could not be displaced from that position, but Virat had had his own stuff going on the past two years. Virat had taken too much burden too young in his life, and rendered far too weary at the end of it to switch instantly from the one in charge to the pillar of the one in charge. He'd needed to get away from the whole thing of being in charge--and Rohit did not grudge him that, not one bit.

And Rahul had slipped into that role so seamlessly, Rohit doubted if anyone would had noticed.

Maybe they would have.

Vice captain.

That phrase existed for a reason.

A vice captain was not just a team's second in command. He was the captain's pillar of strength. Rohit knew he had been, when Virat had been captain. He'd never been as good as Rahul, though...

"You're scaring me," said Rahul. He glanced at his wristwatch. "It's been fifteen minutes since you last spoke, and you look like I'm transparent, like you're looking through me."

"Didn't I tell you?" Rohit smiled. "I'm in that mood."

"Which mood? Answering questions with questions? Looking through people? Acting a ghost?"

 Another person Rohit had never told how much he loved him.

Of all the people in his family, this one was probably who he'd treated the worst. He'd held him in resentment for becoming Virat's first priority long after he himself understood that feeling--the protectiveness for his first kids, Jassi and Hardik, who were of course his first priority, too. Even when the resentment had melted, it had taken him ages to warm up to Rahul. 

Partly because he wasn't Shikhar, and Rohit had never been supposed to open with anyone but Shikhar. Partly because Rahul himself was closed up on the inside in a manner not unlike Rohit's own, and those sort of people didn't trust each other very easily anyway, and maybe Rohit had imagined that Rahul wasn't worth the effort, that Rahul was inconsequential in his life.

Luckily, when Rohit had realized that last bit was grievously untrue, it had not been too late to backtrack and build up a nice relationship.

Rohit had never foreseen this, however. He had not foreseen himself leaning on Rahul every time he needed, sometimes like his life depended on it, especially after semi finals and finals lost.

Then maybe it wasn't too late to say what he hadn't said enough, either.

"Rahuliya," Rohit said. "You know I love you, don't you?"

Rahul took a step back.

"How much did you drink before this?" he asked, anxiously.

Rohit laughed. Rahul looked seriously alarmed.

"Didn't," said Rohit. "And who's answering questions with questions now? I asked if you know I love you."

"I--I--" Rahul looked like he wanted to disappear. "Yeah, I mean--of course--"

"You don't sound sure." Rohit was suddenly crestfallen.

"No--! No, that's not what I meant--I know you love me, and I hope you know I love you, too, but what's wrong with you?"

"I need to find them all and tell them I love them," said Rohit. "Virat and Ash and Jaddu. And the others, too. Jassi and Hardik and Kul and Yuzi and Yas and Jinks and Shikhar and Bhuvi--"

"All of them aren't here," said Rahul, warily. "I'll--I'll take you to Virat and Ash, if you want--"

He caught Rohit's arm firmly, as he would do with an escaped lunatic, or--

"You'd be a good father, Rahuliya," mused Rohit. "The best, I'd say."

Rahul's face flamed as he said, "You can't say that and call me by the stupid name in the same sentence." 

"Sure I can," said Rohit. "You can be a great dad to your kids and Rahuliya to me and Virat at the same time, so..."

"I don't believe you aren't drunk," declared Rahul, as they entered the party hall.

Disco lights and blaring music and smoke shook Rohit out of his mood real quick, so by the time Rahul dragged him across and handed him over to Virat and Ash in an exasperated manner, all Rohit had planned to say fell flat in his own head.

"He's very drunk," Rahul told Virat in what he must have imagined a soft whisper.

"I'm not a bit drunk," said Rohit, rolling his eyes. "The last stuff I drank was coffee in the evening. And that one sip of your cranberry juice, Rahuliya."

"It was not one sip," said Rahul.

"Will you stop using that name, Ro?" Virat demanded.

Rahul looked like he couldn't believe his ears. "Exactly--! Thank you, Vir--"

"I have a copyright on that name and it is not up for sale."

Rahul gave Virat a dirty look. But all Rohit felt at Virat's familiar idiotics was fond. 

"I love you, Vi," said Rohit.

"He is drunk," said Ash drily.

"And I love you, Ash."

Rahul exchanged significant looks with Ash and Virat. Rohit wanted to go in search of Jaddu and Jassi and Shreyas before he started making the calls to the ones not physically present, but his companions, who clearly fancied themselves as his bodyguards stopped him.

"Go and sleep," said Virat firmly. "No more wandering round. I'll take you to your room."

"For heaven's sake, Virat, I am not drunk," said Rohit. "And I'm not going to wander around, I'll just go to tell Jaddu and Jassi and Yas how much I love them."

Virat dragged him out of the hall to shakes of Rahul and Ash's heads.

"--and I have to call all of them to say that, too--Shikhar, Bhuvi, Jinks--Kuliya--"

"Why? Why do you have to tell everyone you love them? It's just the year that's ending--you're not on your deathbed, are you?"

"No, but I want you all to know."

"Like we don't already?"

"I don't think I said it enough," said Rohit. "Did I ever say enough, Vi?'

"You didn't need to," said Virat. "And you don't need to now, either. We know, Ro."

"How do you?"

"Just," said Virat. "How do you know Jaddu loves us?"

"Just," Rohit had to agree.

"See?" Virat grinned. "Of course you're realizing now you should've been like me all along--I'd never wonder if I've said enough--"

"Never," said Rohit wryly.

"But if you were like me, I doubt I'd have wanted to be friends with you. I don't like people who are like me."

"I can't even tell if you're being narcissistic or self-loathing."

"Neither," said Virat. "It's you who's being like Aristotle."

"Like who?"

"Aristotle, the philosopher."

"Since when are you into philosophy?" asked Rohit, astonished.

Virat led him into his room and pushed him to lie down. "Sleep. Close your eyes and sleep."

Rohit did not, of course, close his eyes. Virat tried to close them forcefully, which led to a tussle, which lead to a deadlock because neither of them ever backed off when it came to each other.

"D'you think it's the first time you're forcing me to sleep?" asked Rohit, thoughtfully.

Virat laughed. "Might as well be."

Outside the window, firecrackers burst out.

It was midnight.

The two of them walked to the balcony to watch the glittering sky, and in that moment, Rohit was suddenly simply glad that though so many years had passed, he was welcoming a new year with his best friend by his side.

Virat's eyes reflected the light as threw an arm around him and shouted, "Happy new year, Ro!"

Rohit needed a moment to compose himself.

"Happy new year, Vi."

***

A/N: I couldn't stand a flat New Year away from my Kolkata, hence I had to write something fluffy so I could welcome the year the way I want, too.

Happy New Year everyone!