Faith's Lens (BWWM)

Chapter 2

Noah ^^^

I was still adjusting my camera when the lights shut off. I cursed under my breath in annoyance. The crowd cheered loudly as the announcer introduced the first fighter coming out.

Xiong Shi was the first competitor. His entrance was eccentric. Multicolored light strobes flickered across the arena and loud obnoxious music played in the background. He waved his arms in the air as his fans cheered him on.

I took pictures as he walked in. Most were blurry as he kept moving and pumping his fist in the air. But I got a few good ones as he entered the ring. I snapped a few more when he went to sit down and he talked to his trainer. I had to get up a bit closer to get better shots.

After a few more shots I looked through the ones I took on my camera. Deleting any that were blurry, or out of focus , or with bad lighting.

Then the lights went out. The next competitor began to make his way down, but there was no entrance music or special effects to the lighting. There were no theatrical movements either. But the crowd reacted with no less enthusiasm. If anything, the crowd went even more wild for the silent athlete.

His gait was slow and measured. A large dark gray hoodie covered his torso and face, hiding him from view. His arms, uncovered, were flexed and muscles rippled and strained as he clenched his fists almost unconsciously.

The pictures I took of him weren't bad but they did nothing to capture the unmistakable power the seemed to roll off him in waves.

I followed him as he took his seat on his respective stool. The hood was thrown over his head finally giving the crowd--and if I'm being completely honest, me as well--what it finally wanted. My finger seemed to press down on its own as shot after shot was taken.

I tried hard not too stare too intently at his jaw that was sculpted almost from marble and lightly dusted with day old unshaven hair. Or his dirty blonde hair that curled just a bit at the nape of his neck. Or even that slight indentation of his cheek that teased of a dimple that I knew was there if he'd only unclench his jaw and show the pearly teeth I just knew were hiding beneath his full lips.

He was unnatural looking in a way. He was ragged and rough and scratched up, but oh so very pretty. Green eyes that flashed at the sound of the bell that rang each time a match ended. His lips, damn near too big for his face yet somehow making it work, pursed at every hit he threw and every punch he caught.

He was light on his feet for such a big guy. His shoulders were broad and muscular, but not overtly so. Just enough to hint towards the power that was contained within. And his, large and controlled, bruised and bloodied at the knuckle, spoke volumes of years of fighting.

"Pictures coming out well I hope."

I gasp as a voice on my right brings me out of my musings. I bring the camera down from its place in front of my face and snap my head towards the inteuder.

"I apologize Jhon Jhon--Jhonelle. I didn't mean to startle ya'. You just looked so caught up in your pictures that I was almost worried you done glued the camera to your face." Mr. Creed smiled apologetically.

With the camera out of my face I was able to look at the crowd a bit. In the front rows were heavy set men with serious faces dressed in serious suits. And the women at their sides were thin, most of them half paying attention to the men in the ring. Others that filled up the seats were just fans who stood and carried posters for their favored boxer.

And in a section all their own were school children fixated on the men, half leaning on the edge of their seats in excitement and the other half too busy filling their faces with snacks from the concession stands. I was surprised to see the kid from earlier with the green hair. His mouth was blue from the slushee he busily slurped as he gazed in awe of the powerful punches and swings the men in the ring threw.