Chapter Text
"Who's the baddest? Me!, who's the toughest? Me! Who's the...." That hopkins boy's voice Is all Bif Taylor could remember before conveniently colliding his frontal lobe with the ring floor and passing out then and there.
"Who's the boss now?... I said who's the boss now!?" Is all Derby Harrington could remember before murmuring some sort of agreement with the boy then harshly passing out against the crimson carpet, the kitchy carpet's symbols of greens and yellows swirling around the back of his eyes like the lights at that gauche carnival, soon fading to black.
Derby Harrington. The son of Ford Harrington and king of the Harrington house was mature, sophisticated, picturesque, perhaps a truly perfect heir to the Harrington "throne", But most of all
Derby Harrington was a coil pulled tight.
Perhaps due to his father, Ford Harrington, a stoic, superior kind, collections of fountain pens as a hobby type of man. The type to wring another man's neck like a sponge without hesitation. In Bif Taylors words, he was ultimately, truly, completely....
"Scary" the young boy murmured under his breath as he was unwillingly pulled by his father through Harrington Manor. It was a huge Building, whilst expected, Bif couldn't quite comprehend it. The lights glew like carmalised flames, kissing the ceiling. He couldn't tell if the wine was more expensive or if the cups were, as they went by on trays of illuminecent silver. If the Harrington's were known for anything it was a real tall level of superiority. But in true child fashion, the awe only lasted so long as he realised there wasn't another boy his age there. His father liked to think that it was good for his son to get to know the people, well, the type of people he belongs with, but Bif knew neither of them belonged there at all.
"Ah well if it isn't the Taylor's!" Ford Harrington beamed with a smile bif assumed was pulled straight from a dental billboard. Mr Harrington took his father in a firm handshake before looking down at him "and you must be Bif Taylor" he loomed down towards him. Bif didn't know a man could make another person feel so small, at a loss for words, all Bif could do was nod in acknowledgement, eyes not knowing whether to glue to the floor or lock with the man above him. Mr Harrington chuckled lightly and leant back up, allowing Bif to take a breath. "He's nearly twelve now, his birthday is coming around the corner" His father spoke, perhaps to get the man off his nervous son. Bif nodded, letting his body go idle as he looked for anything less mind numbing yet anxiety fueling as this conversation. But something pulls him straight out of said idle-day dream. "I have a son of my own you know, he turned twelve in January " Mr Harrington turned to what Bif assumed was a maid and clicked his fingers, a click way to loud to be normal, and it seemed everyone else agreed, jolting just the slightest at the noise. The maid nodded and quickly went down a hallway before soon returning with what the Taylor's assumed to be Mr Harrington's son "This is my pride and joy" (said with maybe too much brand deal on the tounge to really be all true, Bif noted) "Derby Harrington" Bif internally gasped at the sight, Golden hair that seemed to just thrive in the warm lights above the manor, a straighter-than ruler posture and possibly the prettiest amber eyes Bif had ever seen. And they stared straight into him as if trying to get a grip on him before he even spoke, A true Harrington alright.
"Urgh...." Derby sounded out, lifting his head up from the carpet with such difficulty he would've thought his brain was replaced with cement (due to the weight, not because he's stupid, he'd like to add) the lights of Glass jaw seemed to be off, yet gord and whichever mess up dare be passed out in his vicinity hadnt moved, Derby notices. He pushes himself up, or tries to with shaky, bruised arms "god..." He grunts, finally getting up, albeit ungracefully and leaves through the door nearest the bar. "Donk" Derby lowers his eyes to the sight of chad's head hitting the door. "Great" he sighed, rubbing his free hand down his face and stepping over Chad's sleeping body to make his way down the stairs.
The ring was empty, Bif's worn-out body no where to be seen. Derby had never been inside Glass Jaw at this time of night, the ivory moon light filled the room through the top windows like lights. It was so quiet, Derby hated that. He watched the light through the windows for a minute before redirecting his attention to Bif again. A tinge of guilt finally starting to set in, maybe "filthy Democrat" was a little too far from someone who also lost to Jimmy Hopkins that day. He slid his hand down the rail as he left the stairs and wandered down around the ring towards the punching bags. Bif was laying in the small corner between said punching bags and the wall, Derby guessed Bif woke up embarrassed, tried to leave, then passed out again. Or maybe the ring floor was just really fucking uncomfortable. He eyed Bif with piercing amber eyes. For someone so strong he slept so softly, he thought, he also thought Bif's hair was probably one of the most beautiful shades of red he'd ever seen. Approaching said red head he questioned himself before coming to a sort of "so be it" answer. "Oh for Christ's sake" he grumbled, sitting down (with great difficulty) next to Bif.
Maybe it was his legs, they hurt from the fight after all,
or maybe he was just too tired to keep standing,
or maybe Derby was cold.
Yeah.
That excuse works, Bif was a human heater dressed in a teenager skin so maybe it weren't so bad if Derby tells him he was just cold. Yeah....
Bif had found Derby absolutely enchanting from the first day he met him, Derby and Bif had continued being mates, or friends, or pals or whatever label that could fit what they had, but there wasn't one that could. Derby was, or grew up to be a perfect, robot shell of himself, not a hair out of place and not a word out of line but as soon as it was just Bif and him he felt strangely....human. He felt more flesh and blood with Bif as opposed to any family member he'd ever met and Bif enjoyed seeing this side of him, his natural born state. And maybe it was wrong for Bif to feel a sort of superiority because of this, the fact that only Bif Taylor got to see the truest, rawest side of Derby Harrington. Bif wouldn't have it any other way.
Almost any other way.
There was but a thin line between them.
Friends.
Or lovers.
Derby seemed to do what ever it possibly took to stay on that friends side, Bif thought. Even though Bif felt that Derby felt just as strongly as Bif does him.
Perhaps not.
That made Bif awfully sad, knowing the one thing he had ever wanted earnestly, would always be just out of reach, it was like hanging a bone just slightly too high for a starving dog to reach. It felt cruel.
But like a dog, Bif would rather stay loyally by Derby's side as a friend instead of never being there at all. Bif had been yearning for years up until this point and he can keep doing it
Right?