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Bif woke up slowly, just enough to tell that he was actively regaining consciousness. Everything felt numb, his face, his chest, his arms. Even a dull ache in his wrists. He tried to unclasp his hands, but they were encased inside his boxing gloves, and thats when Bif was able to recall what exactly had happened.
A low grunt left the back of Bif's throat, trying to drag himself upright from the cold ground of the boxing ring. He forced his upper body to rise, more strained noises leaving him as each muscle ached with every small movement. He leaned back on his calves, pulling his boxing gloves off with his teeth, and flexing his sweaty fingers.
His eyes fixed on the small pool of drool and blood on the ground where his head had previously been resting on, instinctively lifting his hand to touch his nose, and his lips. Derby would be upset if he saw the mess he had made, Derby always got worked up over little things...
Derby...
The very thought speeded up Bif's regaining of consciousness. He stared forward for a good moment, recalling the events that had led up to this.
Jimmy Hopkins.
Oh goodness, Derby will certaintly have his throat this time... Bif was meant to be unbeatable. The best there ever was! Beaten by a silly pauper half his weight and size? This must be a nightmare, and if it wasnt already, it was about to be. He could only find out the fate that befell Derby, or rather, the fate that would befall himself.
Bif's hands reach out for the boxing ring corner, hoisting himself up slowly, eyes focusing on the slight redness around his knuckles. Another strained sound left him as his back straightened, clenching his jaw as he ducked under the boxing ring border.
His ears began to ring, breathing slowly out of his mouth, praying he wasn't about to pass out again upon standing upright so quickly. Just find Derby.
Oh, Derby..
Bif rolled his shoulder slightly, glancing up towards the stairs, where he could faintly hear the commotion of his fellow preps. He made his way to the stairs, beginning to take the steps two at a time before realising he had severely overestimated the strength of his knees.
Bif held the banister, his palms gliding up the sleek dark wood. He stopped every so often to catch his breath, feeling acutely more aware of his utter patheticness with each break. Reaching the top, he did his best to dismiss the sensation of his thighs burning.
"Derby," he huffed, his voice more broken sounding than intended. Bif pushed open the door with his shoulder that he was now almost certain was going to bruise. His eyes quickly scanned the room, which was devoid of preps, all apart from Derby.
"Derby.." Bif repeated, with a little more clarity in his weak voice. On the chaise in the bar was Derby, disheveled and exhausted. It was hard to tell whether his face was reddened with anger, pain, or embarrassment. Perhaps all three, but the concept of his friend feeling anything but pride was unfamiliar.
He hadn't seen Derby like this in quite awhile.
Derby opens his eyes, and the irritated expression he had previously been wearing seemed to worsen into a more bitter stare. As if dismissing the thought of Bif's presence entirely, he shut his eyes once more and put his hand to his forehead, momentarily smoothing back his unkempt blond hair that Bif found truly tantalising. Everything about Derby was tantalising. Forbidden.
"Derby-"
It felt like the only word he could say. Bif let the door swing shut behind him, feeling like he has betrayed Derby in a sense, failed to 'protect' him. Derby would agree that it is indeed pathetic for Bif to so helplessly grovel for approval, yet also expect no less from him.
"You idiot, you utter useless idiot! We had one chance to stand up to that pauper Hopkins, and now he has humiliated Harrington House!" Derby snapped, staring up at the ceiling.
Bif quietly moved to the water cooler on top of the bar to atleast make himself more useful than he has proved himself to be.
"How dare he?!" Derby added, followed by a harsh sigh that borderlined trembling.
Bif reached into the cooler, reaching for a small ice pack. He briefly relished in the sensation of cold ice on his numb knuckles, before pulling his hand out and approaching Derby again.
Nothing felt worth saying. He stood awkwardly by the chaise, as if waiting for Derby's approval to tend to him, feeling somewhat like a dog. Up until that moment, where he was now feeling very self aware under Derby's criticising stare, he wasn't aware of the taste of his own blood in his mouth or the sensation of dried blood on his upper lip. He was so battered and exhausted, yet the only thing on his mind was... Derby.
"Sit down, would you?" Derby bit, in a slightly quieter tone. Bif sat on the edge, and Derby snatched the ice pack out of his hands.
"I'll get him, I swear." Bif assured, tired eyes watching as Derby pressed the ice pack against his defined cheekbone.
"No use. Leave it for now, Bif." Derby scolded lightly, leaning back on the chaise even more.
"You're upset at me." Bif uttered, regretting each word as they left his swollen lips.
"Don't sound so foolish. I'm upset at Hopkins. God only knows how that financially unfortunate rodent bested you, but I will not let him get away with doing harm to you- to us." He quickly corrected, giving Bif a quick glance.
Bif shifted in his seat slightly. Well, knowing he wasnt the complete subject or Derby's anger soothed his anxiety a little. The two sat in silence once more, with the exception of their heavy breathing filling the room. Bif eventually leaned back, the cushions pressing the thin fabric of his boxing shirt against his sweaty back.
Neither had much of a clue of what to say, or to do. Bif knew he should have been feeling sorry for himself for letting down Derby, but all that was on his mind was sleep. As for Derby, he was unreadable like always, and seemed to have gotten the most off his mind anyway.
"He has to pay." Bif mumbled again. "I'll make sure of it."
"Enough of that. You don't have anything to prove." Derby glanced over at Bif, pulling the ice pack away from his cheek, which was swollen and had a small scrape on it.
None of the bruises could ever take away from the breathtaking spectacle that was Derby's face. Even after getting beat up, he could still charm the untameable. Bif forced himself to look away, certain that the sudden burning in his cheeks wasn't just pain.
"What do you mean?" Bif replied, unsure if Derby was trying to slip an insult by him.
"Because I already know you are the best."
Bif swallowed, keeping his eyes trained on the wall infront of him. He could still sense Derby's eyes on him, scanning his side profile, probably watching how nervously his Adam's apple was bobbing up and down.
Bif dared to look at Derby again, this time finding it harder to tear his eyes away from the other's beautiful brown ones. Derby was so close, and Bif was unable to recall sitting beside him in such a close proximity to begin with, unless it was Derby that had scooted over during Bif's brief inner panic.
Derby broke the eye contact first to look down at Bif's nose, then at his lips, and while he was probably looking at the blood, Bif still licked his lips nervously anyway. He was probably covered with blood, sweat and tears, completely undone in the name of his friend- his best friend, his leader, the only one worth getting into a state such as this. Derby.
He couldnt find himself caring about any of that, it was a display of what he was willing to endure for the other boy, whether he won or not, and he got the sense Derby felt that way too, so he didn't care to make himself appear any more presentable. Derby wanted a winner, but perhaps this Jimmy Hopkins tornado had came in and broken their egos, and maybe the concept of settling for a less-than-fortunate Bif was somehow more reasonable. And if even just for tonight, seeing Derby look at him this way was a trophy in itself.
It really was Derby leaning in this time. He leaned up into Bif's face, and the sudden weight against his sore shoulder made a small gasp leave his mouth. Derby captured it. Their lips connected in a lingering kiss that neither were sure to escalate. Bif slowly moved his hand to Derby's sleeve, feeling the soft fabric of his Aquaberry jumper under his calloused hands, feeling the outline of Derby's rolex from beneath the material
. He took a quick inhale through his nose, and though it hurt, he still caught the subtle scent of Derby's sweet cologne. The moment didn't feel fleeting at all, Bif could taste, hear, and smell every tiny aspect of Derby Harrington that nobody in their wildest dreams could even imagine. In a way, Bif *was* a winner.
Derby broke away first, his hand now flat against Bif's chest, or maybe it had been there the whole time. Bif opened his eyes slowly, now locking eyes with the blond once more. While Derby was this close, he memorised almost every single detail on his face, as if analysing a painting that had so much more meaning to it than what merely met the eye.
Derby leaned away a little abruptly, putting the ice pack down, leaving Bif both dumbfounded and in utter bliss. Derby was starting to stand up, and Bif wanted to follow him, to chase the warm sensation of his lips, the grounding softness of Derby's mouth against his, but he was rooted to the chaise.
Derby paused and turned back to Bif, a more neutral expression on his face.
"Goodnight, Bif." Derby broke the silence, and Bif remained speechless and confused as the other boy left.
What was he expecting? For Derby to stay? Of course, he should have seen it coming, and yet...he's perfectly content where he is, feeling Derby's phantom touch on his swollen lips, the absence of a hand on his chest, the loss of warmth on his side. Proof Derby had been there. Proof that all of the small glances and touches in the past wasnt just in Bif's head.
"Goodnight, Derby." Bif murmured softly under his breath, Derby's footsteps getting quieter, as Bif gently drifted off to sleep.