"Wait!"

A feeble groan crawled out of a perspiring Mayank. An amalgamation of helplessness and fury was devouring him inch by inch.

"Don't move!"

Despite the dearth of light, Mayank could make out a hooded silhouette that stood a short distance ahead. He, however, could barely catch hold of it.

"Give it back!"

The remnants of sternness in Mayank's voice evaporated. The words spoken by it were now merely futile pleadings.

The hooded figure was indifferent to his misfortune. It was soon engulfed by the darkness ahead, while Mayank stood stranded in the center of despair. His derelict heart seemed to growl in protest. He sat on his knees, letting his trembling fingers burrow through the soil beneath him.

"Give it back," he muttered in vain. "It's mine... It's mine..."

**********

Waseef let his spine relax against the comfortable snowy pillow with his eyes focused on the television screen, which was carrying on its regular job of offering continuous drivel. His ears, on the other hand, were lent elsewhere in a rather reluctant fashion. The captain blocked an exhausted yawn as he moved his eyes to Nayif, the slender opener. His pale body was entirely seized by a red hue of rage.

"Fines? Utter rubbish!" bellowed Nayif as he clenched his fist for the umpteenth time. "It's not that I expect a better show from such inept authority."

"Calm down, boy," said Waseef. "You are going to wake him up."

"Calm down?" He cast a quick look at the sleeping kid, letting his voice descend. "If that crap was one of our lads, they would have sent him behind bars."

The captain suppressed a strong urge to roll his eyes. "Nayif, nobody gets jailed for—"

The sentence was abandoned in the middle as he sensed traces of slight movement from his side. The rumpus indeed pulled the child back to reality. He got up slowly and faced Waseef, whose palm was gingerly placed on his head.

"Good moorni—" A moderate yawn stood as an impediment, deterring the kid from carrying on as he rubbed his eyes.

"Morning chipmunk."

"And the fine!" Nayif cried once more. "How much has that Mayank guy been fined? He pays his driver more than that, I bet you!"

"For how long have you served as his driver?" Fayzan inquired.

The scarlet shade on Nayif's face grew deeper. As he jumped into the bed to catch hold of the child, Waseef got down and shook his head. He knew what was coming next. The captain walked off, ignoring the outburst of rage, a shrill yelp, and what was undoubtedly a plea for help. He turned the doorknob and stepped out, leaving the commotion behind.

He got inside the elevator and headed down. The wild emotions that were strangling his mind had no scruples; in his agony lay their joy. As the elevator sank, his chest only grew heavier with uncertainty. Waseef cracked his knuckles as he got out and took several steps forward. In a mechanical fashion, he checked out a random corner. The discovery that followed the action inspired a rather guilty grin to spread across his lips. He walked to the classical round-arm sofa where the familiar figure was sitting, immersed deep in the newspaper in his hands.

Waseef directed a mild poke toward his forehead. As it hit the target, the victim looked up at once. The astonishment on his face was drained by a beam the moment he laid his eyes on the attacker.

"Good morning, boy."

"Morning, Aanvik," responded Waseef, smiling, as he took a seat against the gregarious Indian captain.

"How are you doing? Sure you haven't broken a bone or two? It was a pretty nasty push."

A modicum of the smile faded away from Waseef's face. "My bones are alright. It did not even hurt." He stopped for a second. "The media is exaggerating things a little."

Aanvik chortled. "Talking about exaggeration, huh? Here, have a look," he said as he offered the newspaper to Waseef. "It's amazing."

Waseef could sense the trace of sarcasm in the final words. He curiously stretched an arm to receive the paper. The previous night's match was unsurprisingly conquering a great deal of space in the sports section. As he roughly brushed his eyes across the news, Aanvik seemed to be enjoying the foreseen expression on his face. Waseef, to his chagrin, shipped his eyes back to Aanvik, who, by then, was on the verge of bursting out into laughter.

"Amazing indeed," Waseef said with his eyes on the news once again. "An argument between us? For real? Oh, boy, we were just talking!"

"That's Roy for you."

"That minister's son?"

"Son-in-law. Can't do much about him. There are many of his kind, of course, but this one is always after me."

"Why does he hate you so much?"

"I once heard he wanted to be a cricketer. Shranav says he is jealous. Or plain mean. I don't know."

The plight was understandable enough for Waseef to shake his head. "I wonder what's going on above," he said after a while, failing to think of anything else. "Left Fayzan there with Nayif. Must still be fighting."

"Fayzan, your cousin? Don't they get along well?" asked Aanvik, looking rather glad about the change of topic.

"Nothing of that sort. Fayzan loves him, and Nayif does too. It's just that they have a rather unusual way of expressing it."

"The kid means a lot to him," he continued. "Nayif says he makes him feel like a big brother."

Aanvik felt a thunderbolt run down his spine; he could sense the malaise that conquered his limbs, stealing the chance. All of a sudden, he was shrouded in a thick layer of grave silence. His fingers displayed slight movements, apparently signifying the inadequate attempts to chase away a series of adamant flashbacks.

"Aanvik?" The unusual transition did not fail to seize Waseef's attention. "You alright?"

There was no response.

"Aanvik?" He tried again, in a voice higher than usual.

The lost one jumped back to reality. His slightly enlarged eyes met Waseef's before shrinking back to their original size.

"Sorry, Waseef. I was—"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good. Where have we been, though? The media—"

Waseef kept his eyes glued to him for another couple of seconds. Although he wanted to discover the mysterious force that led his friend into a momentary daze, the troubled look on his face convinced him to lend a hand in driving the conversation elsewhere. The job did not prove itself to be quite difficult. A young figure dove out of thin air and landed on Waseef. While the captain struggled to regain his previous sitting posture, the air around him lightened at once.

"Didn't I ask you not to wander about on your own, chipmunk? You will get lost."

"I won't," Fayzan replied in an elated tone as he let go of Waseef to sit down in a decent manner.

The kid's eyes found Aanvik and remained locked on him for a couple of seconds before they brushed themselves across the place to spot any possible sign of danger. None, however, was detected, and the area declared itself to be void of threats. The ebullient grin that stepped away from Fayzan's face for a moment claimed its previous position, finally offering the affectionate one on Aanvik's lips a polite response.

Aanvik leaned forward. "Come here, kid."

Fayzan stared at him for a while, his face shimmering with a strange sense of wonder. There was something about Aanvik; whether it was the smile or the way he held out his inviting arms, he could not tell. The child rose in what seemed to be a strange trance. As he slowly made his way to the captain, Aanvik pulled him closer, placing him gently on his lap.

"How old is he?" he asked Waseef.

"Ten."

Aanvik laughed. "Really? Looks seven at most."

"And acts two."

Fayzan narrowed his eyes. "You act two."

His cousin put on a similar expression. "If you quote any of your dumb classmates, I swear you are grounded for ten million years."

The child projected his tongue toward him. 

"Tell me when he isn't around," Aanvik whispered, making him smile. 

"Why don't you go and play with Nayif?" asked the older cousin, eyeing the boy in an unusual fashion.

"Let him stay," said the Indian captain. "He isn't being a pain or anything."

Waseef ignored him. "Ask Nayif to take you out for a walk."

Aanvik tenderly ruffled the boy's hair, knowing it was pointless to argue with his friend. "We will play later, okay?" he said. "When Waseef isn't around to chase you away, run straight to me."

The kid grinned as he got up. He surprisingly obliged without complaining, before which he shot a coach-ly you-have-got-a-lot-to-learn-from-this-gentleman look toward the other captain. The color on Waseef's face was restored, but he appeared to be rather astounded as he guided his eyes back to Aanvik.

"I'll get you the next time I need him to listen to me," he said, struggling to veil the envy in his voice.

"How did you bring him along, though?"

"Wasn't easy, but I had no other option. Well, long story."

Aanvik beamed. "He is sweet."

"He is, but he can be a real trouble at times."

The sarcastic tone in Aanvik's voice reappeared. "Come on, he can't be worse than Mayank."

"Oh, Mayank, yes. How's he doing?"

Aanvik's eyebrows were raised for a moment. As they descended to their original position, a mischievous smile took over his lips. "Not dead."

Waseef looked puzzled. That was not the sort of response he was expecting to receive.

"Thought you would want him so." Aanvik carried on, following a shrug. "After what he did last night."

Waseef shook his head lightly. "Happens."

"Strange that you should ask, given that you were the one who was attacked. But you are always a little sympathetic to the guy, aren't you?"

The Bangladesh captain could feel a peculiar stream flow down his veins. His limbs displayed some quick movements, as if to shake off the discomfort the unforeseen inquiry brought along. "Nothing like that, I mean... I just—"

"I get it." Aanvik cut him off. "Well, I wanted to stay with him last night, but he kicked me out. Now he's neither picking up his phone nor opening the door. It's not the first time, though. I'll try again tonight."

"Okay." Waseef tried to sound callous. "I have to attend a meeting in a while, Aanvik. See you soon."

It was unmistakably an attempt to flee. The other captain nodded, deciding to supply him with a little assistance despite the odor of mystery that was tickling his nostrils. "See you."

Waseef headed to his room in unnecessarily hasty steps. Fortunately for him, there was no sign of Fayzan in there. He was in desperate need of a dark, desolate cavern where he could hide from the world as well as himself, until he could figure a way out of the imbroglio in his mind.

**********

Aanvik's relentless attempts finally seemed to pay off. All of a sudden, Mayank's door was ajar, and then the gap widened to reveal the whole of the all-rounder. The captain's eyes observed the other's lifeless ones for a couple of moments. The tongues, however, remained concealed. Aanvik gingerly moved his gaze to Mayank's left arm, which was veiled by the long sleeve. 

"Have you done it again?" he inquired in a faint voice.

Mayank brazenly shut the door in his face in response, making Aanvik push out a long sigh of despair. He knocked on the door again. It opened sooner than he expected.

"What do you want?" asked the all-rounder, his voice ablaze.

"Let me come in," Aanvik replied in a surprisingly calm tone. "Let's... em... talk."

Mayank burned him for a moment with his fiery eyes, following which he grabbed Aanvik's left shoulder. The captain was pulled in. The door shut with a deafening bang, locking the two creatures in.

The all-rounder sat on the bed while Aanvik claimed a seat on the cozy, white sofa that was placed barely a few feet away. He observed Mayank as he grabbed a familiar black notebook that was lying beside him. It was thrown toward Aanvik, who grabbed it effortlessly. He checked his friend out for a split second before focusing on the object again.

"Open it," commanded Mayank with his eyes pointlessly stuck on his feet, "and read."

Aanvik knew well what was awaiting him, but he did not dare to disobey. He opened the last assailed page, where stood the details of a preposterous yet brutal plan of murder. In spite of his unwillingness, he picked and weighed each of the words, fearing the loss of his prized spot in the room as a result of displeasing the volatile man.

"How's it?" asked Mayank, finally dismissing the long silence.

"Impressive, no doubt," replied the captain, "but, if you ask me, it's... it's kinda..."

Mayank directed a baleful glare toward Aanvik. "Shut up. I'll coerce him into giving it back, anyhow."

"Waseef has not taken anything from you, Mayank. You—"

"He has! He has stolen—snatched it!"

"Snatched what? Let's think it through, buddy."

Although Mayank continued to breathe heavily, he fell silent at once. The silence prevailed for the next couple of minutes.

"I don't know." The all-rounder uttered in a faint tone. "But he has taken it. I know he has taken it! Why else would I waste my time planning to get rid of this pathetic creature?"

"Don't you see, boy? You just need a shoulder to put the blame on. Haven't you murdered each and every team we have ever played against," Aanvik replied, "in this notebook?"

"Yes, I have!" bellowed Mayank. "I will kill everyone! Each and all!"

"Best of luck with that. But now you see for yourself that the accusation makes no sense. It never did! I've said this a thousand times already. Would you listen once, please?"

"I have never accused anyone of stealing anything from me," replied an infuriated Mayank, who was by then on his feet. "This worm is the precise one. How do you explain that?"

Aanvik stood up and stepped closer to Mayank. "Don't act like you don't know it." He was mildly surprised at the boldness of his own voice.

Mayank stood void of words. 

"I know it hurts, boy," Aanvik carried on in a calmer tone. "Even the mere sight of him—I know it stabs you like a blunt weapon. I know it always did. I know it's hurting now, more than ever. I know why. You are not the only one who is bearing the agony."

The captain tenderly placed his palms on Mayank's shoulders. "You have got to drag yourself out of your past. Don't act so naive. You know pretty well that it has never really been his fault."

Aanvik's hands were unsurprisingly shaken off.

"Get lost, moron!" yelled Mayank. "Go away!"

Aanvik nimbly dodged a punch thrown in the air. With a hop, he got out of the all-rounder's range and sprinted straight out of the room.

There was another large bang as Mayank fiercely shut the door. The trouble was gone for the night, he thought, but he was proved wrong by the audacious knocks on the door hardly a couple of moments later. There he was once again, the captain, standing shamelessly in front of Mayank despite the abasement. Aanvik raised his slightly quivering right palm, which held a little tube.

"Apply it on the cuts," he said.

Mayank snatched the ointment and slammed the door harder than before, which was apparently his very own way of expressing gratitude.

He flung his gaze out of the window at the dust-sprinkled vastness as he felt his entity abandoned in between truths and lies. A question was aflame in front of him, but only for a split second. Then it was extinguished at once by an illusive surety, born either out of the womb of sheer stubbornness or that of the likelihood of deep, unexplored secrets.