Enjolras
He carefully folded up the ribbon and then carefully tucked the heavy medallion alongside the other, before pushing the drawer closed. He rested his hands on the top of the chest of drawers and leaned on them, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath he squashed thoughts of a third gold medal, it was not good to chance fate, the toughest competition was yet to come. Enjolras straightened up, dragging his hands over the wooden surface until the dropped off the edge and came to rest down by his sides. He turned, grabbed his team England jacket from where it was laid on the bed, and left the room.
He had somewhere to be.
They sat closer to the ring this time, Enjolras picked out the seats and the other two didn't question it. They sat down and sat through several different division semi-finals including Bahorel's. Once again the boxer looked unstoppable as he powered through into the heavyweight final.
As the boxer stamped around the ring in a sort of ungainly victory dance, Enjolras leaned over Combeferre to say to Courfeyrac: 'And this is the guy you chose to sleep with?'
Courfeyrac didn't take his eyes off Bahorel as he answered 'Enjolras we did many things and let me tell you, sleeping was not one of them'
'Woah, okay, enough information Courf,' interjected Combeferre.
'Oh God!' groaned Enjolras, 'I am getting terrible mental images, Courfeyrac! I did not need that!'
'I hope you're including my six-pack for the image of me in your head' said Courfeyrac, 'and I hope you're making my dick true to size too-'
'Oh God no! No!'
'Just saying, you've both seen me naked so you don't have to imagine-'
'Stop talking. Right. Now' growled Enjolras. Courfeyrac just looked back at him like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Enjolras gave him the middle finger and he had the cheek to look offended.
As Enjolras tried to clear his head of Courfeyrac naked, another figure came into his mind. The toned chest of a certain boxer. Oh no. Nope. Not thinking about that. Go away. How the dark curls on his head were mirrored on his chest, were they like that lower down too? NO. Stop it. What would Grantaire look like naked? Oh now you've done it.
Enjolras was torn from his thoughts by two things, firstly, Grantaire had entered the arena, and secondly he realised he might be half hard. Oh God. This is not good. He tried to be subtle as he shifted in his seat into a more comfortable position, he really didn't want to look at Grantaire right now, but Combeferre had nudged him with his elbow.
'Enjolras are you looking? Grantaire's here.' Combeferre I really don't like you right now.
Enjolras raised his head up in time to see Grantaire undo and shrug out of his robe and step into the ring. Enjolras swallowed; from this close distance he could see Grantaire's arm muscles very clearly. The boxer bounced on his feet from side to side to keep warmed up and to settle into the atmosphere.
There was a renewed interest in boxing due to the controversy of Grantaire's former opponent being under investigation for use of performance enhancing drugs. Hence, there was more of a spotlight on this match and Grantaire was under a lot of pressure to prove he deserved a place in the semi-finals. He had even been interviewed by the BBC regarding the whole situation. Enjolras had been mid-way through his breakfast when the interview had aired. He'd dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter as he'd stared open mouthed at the screen.
Grantaire had looked handsome.
The people at the BBC had done something, maybe given him a wash or something, a shave? No, he had stubble in the interview, sexy stubble, and his hair had been sort of tamed. Fuck, he…he looked good. And the way he'd talked in the interview, how he'd shared his backstory, his eyes had shone with passion as he described how boxing had brought him out of a difficult situation at home, how it had helped him at school, in life. He said that boxing had saved his life.
Enjolras could only sit there and watch this guy tell stories of how he'd been by all accounts a 'terror' when he'd been younger and how he owed everything to his trainer Feuilly who had taught him to be a man. The interviewer had asked whether boxing had helped Grantaire's relationship with his family, 'To some extent,' Grantaire had replied, 'It helped me see that that wasn't a good environment for anyone, let alone a kid, so as soon as I could I got myself out of there.'
'So the only support you have is your trainer Feuilly?' the interviewer asked.
'Yeah, him and the rest of the extended boxing family' Grantaire had answered with a smile.
'Any romantic relationships?'
Grantaire had laughed at this, and it could just have been Enjolras's imagination but was he embarrassed? 'No, no….well, maybe…I don't know…it's complicated'. The interviewer had raised an eyebrow but Grantaire wouldn't be pressed for any more information so Enjolras was left to wonder what 'complicated' and 'maybe' meant.
Consequently, due to the interview and the consternation surrounding the boxing quarter-finals there were a lot more England supporters in the crowd this evening and the fight was being showed live on BBC1.
Feuilly strapped Grantaire's gloves on and put in his mouth-guard for him, the boxer was in blue for the third time in the competition.
'Is he going to be alright?' Enjolras asked, 'He was pretty beaten up last time we saw him.'
'Yeah, I told you, I saw him yesterday and he was resting up, they'll have strapped him up good today, besides, he's a fighter. Not much can keep Grantaire down!' said Courfeyrac.
'He'll be fine' reassured Combeferre.
It made Enjolras feel a little better, but he still got nervous when Grantaire stepped out into the middle of the ring to face his opponent from Trinidad and Tobago this time. Enjolras could see the concentration in Grantaire's green eyes as they narrowed to focus on his opponent. The ref counted down, annnnnnd BOX!
The two boxers circled each other a couple of feints and then the Trinidadian was throwing punches left, right, left, but Grantaire just dodged out of the way, hopping to the right where he was able to land a heavy left swing to his opponent's side.
The crowd erupted with cheers. Grantaire was starting well; he looked light on his toes, balancing perfectly, Enjolras noted. Grantaire got another two good punches to his opponent's head before dancing out of the way again. There were another couple of swings from both boxers but no more hits on target for either of them before the round ended.
Grantaire retired to his corner and sat down, Enjolras thought he saw him wince at the movement, how much pain was Grantaire really in? Feuilly had entered the ring whilst talking to him. Enjolras could only make out the odd word the trainer was saying, it seemed encouraging. He was able to relax a little bit more in his seat next to Combeferre, until he saw Feuilly spraying water over Grantaire to cool him down. Nope not good. Grantaire's arms now glistened with a mixture of sweat and water, oh dear god he is not allowed to have arms like that. Grantaire threw his head back so some of the spray could reach his neck. Enjolras absolutely did not imagine licking a stripe up the exposed skin covered in a sheen of water. Oh god, breathe Enjolras, breathe, you are in a public place, you cannot react like this. Like what? Turned on? Enjolras had never really experienced this sort of thing before. No one had ever aroused such feelings within him. Aroused. Yeah, not good.
He squirmed in his seat, furiously hoping Combeferre couldn't tell what was going on in his head or how his body was reacting to Grantaire.
The break was up and round two commenced. Both boxers were much more aggressive this round, punches were flying thick and fast. At several points the boxers got tangled up, chests pressing, arms interlocked, neither wanting to move back, to break away because this would leave them vulnerable to hits. The ref had to step in each time and separate the pair. The third time this happened he gave both boxers a warning.
'Well that's just blatantly not fair!' said Enjolras loudly and almost rising out of his seat, 'Anyone could see that it was the guy in red's fault!'
'Enjolras calm down, the ref is the professional' said Combeferre.
'Yeah Enjolras, how come you're getting into the match so much?' teased Courfeyrac, 'I thought you didn't like boxing?'
'I dislike the principle' answered Enjolras, crossing his arms, 'But it exists, nothing I can do about that, so then I must work within the practical parameters and see that the limited rules are upheld.'
'Mmmmhmmmm yeah, whatever, couldn't have anything to do with a certain someone could it?' Courfeyrac asked slyly.
Enjolras was not blushing, it was just very warm here in the packed arena.
They settled down to continue watching the second round of which there was about thirty seconds left, when suddenly the Trinidadian competitor swung a vicious hook at Grantaire's left temple. The impact was instantaneous, Enjolras could see the blow ripple across Grantaire's face, and then there was blood spurting everywhere.
A gash had been opened above Grantaire's left eyebrow and it was bleeding profusely. Enjolras stood up in reaction, he didn't know why, he wanted to get a better look, to see if Grantaire was okay, to be closer to him? Oh Jesus, there's blood everywhere.
Grantaire staggered back, flicking his head to clear some of the blood which had run into his eye. The ref was ordering the Trinidadian back to the red corner. Feuilly had clambered into the ring and was guiding the Grantaire to his corner. The crowd in the boxing arena had called out when Grantaire had been hit but now there was an eerie silence as they all watched what was happening in the middle of the hall.
'Enjolras, Enjolras?' Combeferre was tugging on his jacket sleeve, 'Enjolras it's okay, he's okay, face wounds always bleed a lot, it's just a scratch that's all.'
'A scratch?' Enjolras found his voice was hoarse, as if he'd been shouting. 'Ferre that is not a scratch.'
'It'll be fine, he's okay, come on sit down…' Combeferre encouraged him to sit back on his seat, his hand came up to rest on the armrest under Enjolras's. Enjolras was grateful, he squeezed Combeferre's hand as he looked back at Grantaire.
There were two medics surrounding the boxer with Feuilly directing them. One had an icepack wrapped in a towel over the whole side of Grantaire's face to staunch the blood. The other was getting out supplies from her kit. Feuilly was busy sponging blood off Grantaire's shirt and neck, talking to him all the while.
People in the crowd resumed low talking to one another as this was going on.
'Will he be able to continue the fight?' asked Courfeyrac worriedly.
'I don't know, depends if he needs stiches,' answered Combeferre. Enjolras gripped Combeferre's hand tightly in response. Why was this bothering him so much? Grantaire will be okay, he'll be okay. Enjolras just carried on observing what was going on in the English corner. The towel was being lifted off Grantaire's face and the blood being cleared up. The second medic lifted up a can and began to spray it over the cut above Grantaire's eye.
'Oh that's cool' said Combeferre.
'What. What's cool?' said Enjolras.
'They're using this spray, it's a disinfectant and plaster all in one. They're patching him up, probably so he can continue the fight, then they'll look at it properly later. It can't be too serious then' Combeferre smiled, well if he's happy. Enjolras relaxed a little bit now. He's okay, he's going to be okay.
With the wound on Grantaire's forehead sealed for the time being and most of the blood cleared up –although Grantaire's blue shirt was a lost cause so he'd had to swap it for a new one- Grantaire stood up. The crowd in the boxing arena cheered and applauded. Grantaire flashed a small smile before bouncing on his toes and stepping forward. There was only 20 seconds on the clock remaining for the second round so both boxers merely circled each other, neither making a move to engage particularly. The bell went and the boxers returned to their corners again.
'Right, he's just got to land a couple more punches and stay out of the way of beefy over there's fists.' Summarised Courfeyrac, 'Shouldn't be difficult'
'Grantaire is doing much better this round despite the head wound' said Combeferre thoughtfully. 'I reckon he could win this fight.'
Enjolras really hoped so.
The medics were once again inspecting Grantaire's forehead. They seemed satisfied that the spray on bandage was holding. Feuilly nodded to them as they stepped out of the ring. The trainer gave Grantaire some last minute tactic advice and then left as well as Grantaire stood up and approached the centre of the ring.
After the ref announced the start of the last round, the boxers circled each other, mirroring their last actions at the end of the second round. Then the Trinidadian stepped forward as Grantaire dodged around, he'd left himself exposed and the Englishman struck three quick successive jabs into the abdomen of his opponent.
The Trinidadian stumbled back a pace and Grantaire seized the advantage moving in for the kill. He landed several big hits until the ref ended the onslaught. Grantaire moved back a bit, but kept moving, bouncing from side to side, keeping his adrenaline levels up. The ref counted out 5 to the boxer from Trinidad and Tobago, giving him a breather. Then the bout continued. Grantaire now clearly had the upper hand within this round and kept pressing, kept hemming his opponent in, not giving him chance to retaliate or land anything meaningful.
Enjolras glanced up to the counter, 20 seconds left, 15, 10. The arena crowd was now counting down, they could sense Grantaire had done enough to put himself in the boxing final. Enjolras bit his lip as the seconds eroded on the clock.
Ding ding! The bell.
Enjolras sighed in relief.
So did Grantaire, he sagged down, resting his hands on his knees as the crowd chanted 'ENGLAND! ENGLAND!'
The ref was grabbing out to catch Grantaire's wrist as the three of them in the ring awaited the judges announcement. The crowd hushed, waiting to hear the verdict. Then the ref was hoisting Grantaire's arm in the air in victory.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood up to applaud Grantaire as he walked around the ring, arms aloft. Grantaire started a little as he saw the three gymnasts, his eyes widening when he caught Enjolras's gaze. He stood, routed to the spot as his green eyes stared into Enjolras's blue ones. Enjolras smiled and then lifted a hand to his forehead as he saluted the boxer. Grantaire's mouth fell open. Enjolras laughed at that, he was such a picture: sweaty, stubble –ridden and covered in barely wiped away blood stains and, on top of that, now looking like an idiot. Enjolras found that he wanted to cause more reactions from Grantaire like that.
The moment didn't, couldn't last long. Feuilly was now ushering Grantaire out of the ring and the medics were swarming around him as they escorted him from the building to no doubt get his head looked at.
Enjolras felt like he needed his head to be looked at.
Next time, try not to let the other bloke hit you so hard you need medical attention,
Enjolras