Victorious || Ethan Dolan

Round 27

Your POV

The dressing room set up for Ethan was quite large, in comparison to others you’ve seen. There was a black leather couch, a table of snacks, and a television hanging on the wall. It was probably there for watching the fights without actually being in the crowd.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous” Ethan breathes out with a huff. You giggle a bit at him, remembering how nervous your dad used to get before his fights.

By instinct, you place a calming hand on his shoulder, “you’ll be fine, Ethan. I believe in you” you assure.

All he does is nod, his eyes capturing sight of the dark carpeted floor. It was the hard, brittle, short-strand kind of carpet. Not the kind you’d like to lay on.

Just then, your dad walks in. His hands were filled with boxer’s tape, wraps, gloves, and a pack of mouthguards. “Uhh” you say with a questioning tone, quirking your eyebrow at the mini store he held in his arms.

“You can never be too prepared” he defends, dropping the supplies onto the black leather couch beside Hal-who just laughed at the man.

You felt Ethan’s shoulder become slacked under your hand as the laughter continued. “You’re insane, bud” Hal says to your father. The atmosphere had changed from complete anxiousness to lightheartedness and laughter. “The kid is fighting a person, not a bear.”

At that comment, you could’ve sworn you heard Ethan let out a laugh, accompanied by the small grin resting on his pink lips. All of his bruises and cuts were healing, but still visible to the naked eye. The subtle curve of his top lip intrigued you, made you crave the feel of them on your own. But not now. He couldn’t focus with nervousness on his mind, let alone the haste of kissing you.

You let go of his shoulder and turn to sit on the arm of the couch, glaring down at the supplies your dad had brought in. It was funny, he never used to be this prepared when he was fighting. Maybe it’s the fatherly instinct in him that caused his over-prepared actions.

Someone unknown walks into the room, yielding a clipboard with stacks of paper on top, “hey, Southpaw” he says, directing his eyes specifically to Ethan. Southpaw is the term used for left-handed boxers. “You’ve got two hours until the fight, and we need an entry song for ya” he says.

“Oh, i got this” your dad mischievously smiles, heading to the still-unknown man standing idly in the doorway. You all watch as they leave, speaking quietly to one another.

“What do you think he’s going to pick?” Ethan’s question poses a list of random music that would never even be associated with boxing for any reason, let alone an entry.

“I have no idea” you mutter honestly.

The room slowly emptied of crew members to be in Ethan’s corner, and at his aid, over the next hour and a half. And as the time ticked by, Ethan only became more nervous.

“I can’t do this, tell Collin i’m sorry, but i have to forfeit the fight, i can’t d-”

“You can, and you will” your dad speaks, directing his assertiveness right at the freaked-out boy. “There is nothing Collin can do to you that the guys back home in the gym can’t. It’s all legal and probable, okay?” Ethan’s eyes were focused on the grey carpet again. “Hey” your dad raises his voice, lightly tapping the side of Ethan’s face to get him to focus.

“I can’t do this” Ethan repeats.

You sigh in defeat as you watch your father, for the first time in his training career, walk away from a negative-minded fighter.

“No, i can’t do this” he says as he leaves the room.

The look on Ethan's face revealed all emotion he was feeling. Sadness, anxiety, anger, confusion. His lips release a low groan from behind them, and he sits on the arm of the couch, his head in his hands. "Fuck" he mutters.

Two of the remaining crew walk out, leaving you alone with Ethan. His face was buried in his palms, so you couldn't see how much it pained him to disappoint your father. But you knew it did.

"It's okay" you say. It was the truth. Everything that you'd ever done to your father that disappointed him was forgiven quickly. "He'll get over it."

He lifts his head from his bare hands and eyes you carefully, "for you, maybe. I'm not his precious little daughter, Y/n." His voice raised lightly, and you felt slight anger arise within your heart.

"Just because you're nervous and afraid, doesn't mean you can be a dick to everyone" you dismiss, leaving the room too.

"Y/n" he calls behind you. There was no trace of him getting off the couch to come after you, so you kept walking.

-

Eventually, you had traveled far enough to be able to see a large clump of crew members outside a dressing room, the paper-sized sign saying 'Collin McClarky' on it.

"Oh great" you whisper as you try to walk away, seeing a large man and his not-so-large manager as soon as you turn around.

"Hey there firecracker" he whispers. "Looking for me" he asks with a cocky-laced tone. His large muscles protruded from his white t-shirt as he crossed his arms. "I know i'm good-looking and all, but hardcore fan never crossed my mind when i thought of things to describe you."

"Oh, shut up" you scoff.

Jeff walked off to the crew members, speaking to them while Collin stayed. Your eyes wandered around the cemented hallway with metal bars across the ceiling.

"Tell me, Princess" he shifts on his feet, dipping his head to your ear so you can hear him better, "why would a gorgeous girl like you, be with a guy like Ethan?"

You think back on the relationship between you and Ethan. The only thing you could manage, shining brighter than anything else... You don't actually have one, a relationship. Especially not with Ethan. "I'm not" you say softly.

Collin backs up, his face close to your own, "that's too bad." The soft blue of his eyes poured into yours, "you'd be an amazing girlfriend."

Your heartbeat faltered when he laughed under his breath, walking right passed you to his dressing room.

Seems like everyone is being weird today.

Word Count: 1107