Undoing
Oh, hell yes. I just did. Read it if you want by which I mean READ IT OR I WILL KILL YOU. Comments are grrrrrrrrrr-EAT! Ew, Frosted Flakes are grrrrr-OSS.
Title: Undoing
Fandom: Death of a Salesman
Pairing: Biff/Bernard
Rating: PG, I think.
Wordcount: 758
Warnings: Arthur Miller is liable to come out of his grave and eat my brainz, so I don't know if that translates to readers, too. BLITEOTW v. 2!! Oh yes, and this is un-beta'd, so. I didn't even proofread.
Disclaimer: I am Arthur Miller. This is mine.
The flames from the furnace leapt and curled around the sneakers, the words "University of Virginia" peeling away to smoke. Bernard rushed downstairs, albeit clumsily, his teenage years urging him to haste, while his modern sensibility preached caution.
Biff stood still in front of the furnace, face hardened like stone, and he didn't even glance when Bernard's footfall hit the concrete floor of the cellar.
"Biff...?" The call came tentatively.
The laces of the sneakers lit up and shriveled like a pair of garden snakes, emmitting their silent, scorching cry on deaf ears.
"Biff!" Bernard approached the taller boy, stopping at his side and peering up at his statuesque form. His pale green eyes searched Biff's face, taking and claiming the dips and curves where his hands could not muster up the courage to venture. Slowly, the seductive heat of the fire lured his eyes away to the furnace, and to the shoes inside, still writhing in agony.
The Shoes. The epitome of Biff's pride, his life. His innocence.
"Biff!" Bernard cried. He searched the room. There had to be--there was--an iron rod lay on the floor. He grabbed it quickly and pushed it into the flames, trying to fish the shoes out.
The sparks of the fire awakened Biff from his catatonia, and he leapt towards Bernard and wrapped a strong arm around him. With the other arm, Biff reached for the rod, pulling at it frantically. Yet Bernard held on, his caring for Biff's well-being far surpassing any other weakness. Rather, it was Biff whose strength was compromised.
"Bernard!" he yelled, his voice high and alarmed.
"You can't, Biff! Biff, your sneakers!"
"Bernard! You don't understand!"
Finally, Biff was able to pull the rod away from Bernard's blanched hands with a violent jerk. He threw the rod aside, leaving the shoes again undisturbed to the fire's mercy.
Biff's victory was met with a swift punch to the jaw. Bernard's thin frame stood shaking, his anemic skin flushed dull pink.
"What're you doin' this fer, heh?" Biff asked, panting. "Can't you just let me alone?"
"I can't, Biff," Bernard answered, his eyes glazed with tears and shining like the moon. "You know I can't."
"I said, LET ME ALONE!" Biff hurled himself against Bernard with a disorienting blow to the stomach. The boys found themselves in a frenzy of fists and anger and tears on the cellar floor. Straddling Bernard's stomach, Biff threw one fist after another everywhere they could land on Bernard's skinny body. Bernard, although placed at a disadvantage, punched back as furiously as he could, his form riddled with the marks of Biff's hits. As the fight continued, as it did for half an hour, Biff's hits became less and less intense, though his will stayed strong. His tears fell on Bernard's face, and Bernard's tears fell on the concrete floor, and both their tears did not go unnoticed by either of them.
Soon, the blows fell away to Biff collapsing on top on Bernard and Bernard wrapping two arms around Biff's torso and burying his face in Biff's neck. Their tears were unrestricted now, the boys were grasping each other tightly and sobbing wildly.
"Biff..." Bernard whispered hotly into his ear. Biff propped himself up on his elbows, his reddened eyes gazing into Bernard's. Slowly, hesitantly, Bernard lifted his hands up to both sides of Biff's face and pulled him closer. Bernard obliged, though he was bewildered at this boy, at his best friend, who he had known his entire life, who could never be anything remotely close to assertive, who was pulling his face in towards his own, who was lifting his mouth to meet Biff's. Bernard pressed his lips against Biff's, and Biff pressed back rough, pinning Bernard to a kiss, foreign and familiar, comforting and awkward, all teeth and dry lips. They let each other go. Biff laid his head on Bernard's shoulder and whispered, "I have to go." Bernard nodded, the last of his hot tears escaping his eyes, rolling down the sides of his face and disappearing into his hairline.
Carefully, Biff stood up, his body hindered by small convulsions and muscles twitching. Bernard got off the cellar floor and watched Biff ascend the stairs, his silhouette illuminated by the light coming down from the doorway above. The fire behind Bernard crackled the last burnt pieces of the University of Virginia sneakers, and the shoes let out a last sigh with the smoke.
Right then, Bernard knew that Biff had given up on his entire life.
FIN.
Title: Undoing
Fandom: Death of a Salesman
Pairing: Biff/Bernard
Rating: PG, I think.
Wordcount: 758
Warnings: Arthur Miller is liable to come out of his grave and eat my brainz, so I don't know if that translates to readers, too. BLITEOTW v. 2!! Oh yes, and this is un-beta'd, so. I didn't even proofread.
Disclaimer: I am Arthur Miller. This is mine.
The flames from the furnace leapt and curled around the sneakers, the words "University of Virginia" peeling away to smoke. Bernard rushed downstairs, albeit clumsily, his teenage years urging him to haste, while his modern sensibility preached caution.
Biff stood still in front of the furnace, face hardened like stone, and he didn't even glance when Bernard's footfall hit the concrete floor of the cellar.
"Biff...?" The call came tentatively.
The laces of the sneakers lit up and shriveled like a pair of garden snakes, emmitting their silent, scorching cry on deaf ears.
"Biff!" Bernard approached the taller boy, stopping at his side and peering up at his statuesque form. His pale green eyes searched Biff's face, taking and claiming the dips and curves where his hands could not muster up the courage to venture. Slowly, the seductive heat of the fire lured his eyes away to the furnace, and to the shoes inside, still writhing in agony.
The Shoes. The epitome of Biff's pride, his life. His innocence.
"Biff!" Bernard cried. He searched the room. There had to be--there was--an iron rod lay on the floor. He grabbed it quickly and pushed it into the flames, trying to fish the shoes out.
The sparks of the fire awakened Biff from his catatonia, and he leapt towards Bernard and wrapped a strong arm around him. With the other arm, Biff reached for the rod, pulling at it frantically. Yet Bernard held on, his caring for Biff's well-being far surpassing any other weakness. Rather, it was Biff whose strength was compromised.
"Bernard!" he yelled, his voice high and alarmed.
"You can't, Biff! Biff, your sneakers!"
"Bernard! You don't understand!"
Finally, Biff was able to pull the rod away from Bernard's blanched hands with a violent jerk. He threw the rod aside, leaving the shoes again undisturbed to the fire's mercy.
Biff's victory was met with a swift punch to the jaw. Bernard's thin frame stood shaking, his anemic skin flushed dull pink.
"What're you doin' this fer, heh?" Biff asked, panting. "Can't you just let me alone?"
"I can't, Biff," Bernard answered, his eyes glazed with tears and shining like the moon. "You know I can't."
"I said, LET ME ALONE!" Biff hurled himself against Bernard with a disorienting blow to the stomach. The boys found themselves in a frenzy of fists and anger and tears on the cellar floor. Straddling Bernard's stomach, Biff threw one fist after another everywhere they could land on Bernard's skinny body. Bernard, although placed at a disadvantage, punched back as furiously as he could, his form riddled with the marks of Biff's hits. As the fight continued, as it did for half an hour, Biff's hits became less and less intense, though his will stayed strong. His tears fell on Bernard's face, and Bernard's tears fell on the concrete floor, and both their tears did not go unnoticed by either of them.
Soon, the blows fell away to Biff collapsing on top on Bernard and Bernard wrapping two arms around Biff's torso and burying his face in Biff's neck. Their tears were unrestricted now, the boys were grasping each other tightly and sobbing wildly.
"Biff..." Bernard whispered hotly into his ear. Biff propped himself up on his elbows, his reddened eyes gazing into Bernard's. Slowly, hesitantly, Bernard lifted his hands up to both sides of Biff's face and pulled him closer. Bernard obliged, though he was bewildered at this boy, at his best friend, who he had known his entire life, who could never be anything remotely close to assertive, who was pulling his face in towards his own, who was lifting his mouth to meet Biff's. Bernard pressed his lips against Biff's, and Biff pressed back rough, pinning Bernard to a kiss, foreign and familiar, comforting and awkward, all teeth and dry lips. They let each other go. Biff laid his head on Bernard's shoulder and whispered, "I have to go." Bernard nodded, the last of his hot tears escaping his eyes, rolling down the sides of his face and disappearing into his hairline.
Carefully, Biff stood up, his body hindered by small convulsions and muscles twitching. Bernard got off the cellar floor and watched Biff ascend the stairs, his silhouette illuminated by the light coming down from the doorway above. The fire behind Bernard crackled the last burnt pieces of the University of Virginia sneakers, and the shoes let out a last sigh with the smoke.
Right then, Bernard knew that Biff had given up on his entire life.
FIN.