Work Text:
Bernard was a normal boring person to most when he was at work and even at home,there was this lingering feeling that wanted to break out of his body as if splitting open his chest. Beneath his constant resting bitch face to others,the desire to break routine,smashing smashing smashing-!
But that afternoon,he didn't do anything . The brunette man just went home as always with that longing feeling for destruction nearly ready to burst as if a boiling kettle; he promises himself he WILL do something to resolve these feelings beneath his skin. Bernard had never been an expressive person,mostly keeping to himself and not really speaking with those unless they spoke to him first out of obligation or politeness
The next day after work,walking through the bitter cold February air as his feet instinctively went to a junkyard a few blocks down from the museum and looked around; Crushed cars,trash and rust in it’s own little paradise away from the more ‘gentle’ businesses in Metro City,he holds his coat tighter to avoid the small amount of wind on that dark 5pm winter attack to his sense.
Grabbing a crowbar tightly,slowly going to a corner of the site as his eyes go to linger on a few rusted cars to let out these thoughts of repressed anger that he’d never let himself admit to having. Streetlights on the side of the road lighting up the murky snow in whites or blues; going towards said cars with their orange flecks and run down state and raising his weapon on his unwilling subject of his self constructed destruction.
Metal slams into the vehicle’s long gone corpse,Bernard lifting the implement above his head and swinging down again and again and again with his breath coming out in the lights he could see as if the fury was a ship in a bottle that was smashed into little bits. Grit teeth,light sweat as he destroys the already gone object.
It has been around 15 minutes,he’d been gripping that crowbar like it was a lifeline as he wipes his sweat laden forehead then he goes to place the iron bar next to the car. Maybe for next time..
Then leaving the scrap graveyard to walk back to his apartment,wondering what he’d have for dinner; maybe he’ll get a treat for himself from the grocery store.
He felt like he owed himself it.