Chapter 1: How Enjolras met Grantaire
'Owwwweeeeahhhh!' Enjolras whizzed around to see Bossuet face down on the court. 'Bossuet! Get up!' Enjolras barked. 'I can't!' Bossuet whined. Enjolras simply rolled his eyes. These complaints weren't anything new to Enjolras. His luck could be compared to a leprechaun devil. 'You'll be fine! Up!' Enjolras once more commanded.
Joly raced over to Bossuet and started checking to make sure nothing was broken, 'Uhh...En-Enjolas?' He whispered quietly. Enjolras impatiently tapped his foot, 'What is it?' Joly bit his lip, 'H-he's actually hurt...' Enjolras cocked his head, 'Are you sure?' Joly nodded, 'We need to get him to the hospital immediately. Something's wrong with his leg.'
Enjolras called off the rest of practice and ordered Joly and Courfeyrac to drive Bossuet to the hospital. Combeferre sat next to a very panicked Enjolras on the bench. 'What'll we do if he can't play? We barely have enough players as it is.' Enjolras asked with his head down. 'We'll have to find a replacement.' Combeferre sighed. Even Enjolras knew that was impossible.
A few hours later Enjolras was lying on his bed when his phone rang. He picked it up and and it turned out Bossuet had indeed broken his right foot. Enjolras sighed and flopped back on his bed. Where the heck was he going to find a new athlete?
The next day Coach ValJean pulled Enjolras aside after school. 'We've found a replacement. The boy is new here.' Enjolras's face brightened, 'Really?' ValJean smiled, 'Yes really. I'd like for you to introduce him to the team later tonight at practice.' Enjolras nodded, 'Of course. His name?' ValJean looked at his clipboard, 'James Grantaire.' Enjolras nodded, 'I'll see you tonight, Coach.'
Enjolras was working on his left-handed layups when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Enjolras turned around to see a pale, sleepy eyed brunette looking at him. He was holding a waterbottle full of alcohol that would fool no one.
Enjolras instantly hated the boy and walked stiffly in front of Grantaire, purposely hitting his shoulder against his so Grantaire would stumble back. 'Follow me.' Enjolras commanded. Grantaire brushed off his shoulder and did as he was told.
'Everybody this is Grantaire.' Enjolras informed the team. Grantaire raised his eyebrow at the fact he was being addressed by his last name. Courfeyrac smirked and leaned over Grantaire's shoulder and whispered, 'Get used to it. Enjolras insists on everyone going by their last name. Pretty strange if you ask me.' Grantaire rolled his eyes and took a sip of his liquor. This is going to be a long night, he thought.
Enjolras ordered the team to run 10 laps around the court. When the boys began to start Enjolras noticed Grantaire staring at the wall, still sitting on the bench. 'Hey! What're you doing?!' Enjolras shouted at him. Grantaire shrugged. 'You should be running!' Enjolras continued. 'I didn't feel like it I guess.' Grantaire sipped his alcohol calmly.
Enjolras scowled at the new slacker, 'You listen to me! If you want to be on this team you have to work!' Grantaire rolled his eyes, 'I believe you need me more then I need you.'
Enjolras clamped his jaw shut. This was true. They practically begged Feuilly to join when they heard he played at his previous school. What would they do if they didn't have Grantaire on the team? Quit? That world is not in Enjolras's vocabulary.
'Just help the team you drunkard!' Enjolras snapped. Grantaire shook his head and eventually Enjolras gave up and jogged back to the team and continued to run the laps.
Grantaire couldn't help but stare at the way Enjolras's honey blond curls bounced when
he ran or how his eyebrows knit close together when he was focusing
Grantaire didn't believe the Revoluionaries could make it far in the tournament. But he did, however, believe in Enjolras.
