No One Loves Like Gaston

Chapter 9: No one should love the Beast

In the village, something was different. The first thing Gaston noticed barreled towards him and grabbed his hand.

'You're back!' Lefou shouted, jumping up and down. He almost looked the same as usual, except his arms were swollen with muscles that made his jacket appear uncomfortably tight. 'Where have you been? Was crazy old Maurice telling the truth?'

The two were standing in the middle of the street, in front of the water fountain. Onlookers surrounded them, cheering on Gaston's homecoming.

'I've... spent some time with a beast. Lefou, you look... different!'

'I eat five dozen eggs every morning, just like you always said to!' Lefou's face carried the hopes and dreams of thousands of children on Christmas Eve, with Gaston being the present.

Gaston ignored him, looking around for Belle. As expected, she was strolling home with a book in her hand. He strode towards her, restitching the overconfident masculinity that the Beast had unknowingly unravelled.

'You're welcome,' he said, leaning down towards her. At first, she scowled, but then her memories pushed context to the front of her mind.

'Thank you. Maurice is safe and well.'

'So, where do you want the wed-'

'I simply couldn't say yes.'

'You-' Gaston raised a hand but stopped himself. Belle had already dodged him at this point, now standing a few steps away from him. He lowered his hand and sighed.

He tried to look into her eyes but he could barely see through the image of the Beast's eyes. The Beast's pools of nocturnal skies, vast and strange and yet the most painfully human things Gaston had ever witnessed. As he attempted to gaze at Belle, a question, the most dangerous of all thoughts, inserted itself into his brain.

Did he ever love her?

This thought sent Gaston stumbling backwards, his vision blurry like he had just drunk five jugs of ale one after the other. He barely noticed himself tripping over his heels until a big arm cushioned his fall. He whipped his head towards his saviour and was greeted by Lefou's confident expression. It was a look so unexpected from Lefou, yet Gaston somehow found it familiar.

'You're losing your touch, Gaston! I think you need a rest. Or did that beast put a curse on you?'

'The Beast would never...' he didn't finish that sentence but it was enough information for Lefou to knit his brows. Gaston gulped. 'He's too kind.'

Lefou helped him up. 'Kind? But isn't he a hideous-'

'Oh, he is completely hideous. He is covered with fur and has horns on his head that are all bent. He's got sharp claws...' Gaston remembered the Beast awkwardly trying to not break a bow. '... and sharp teeth that stick out of his mouth...' He recalled messily eating together with him. '... but his eyes...'

His heart felt like a magnet in a compass. It was pulled away from this poor provincial town towards that dark but beautiful castle. The sensation overwhelmed him, forcing him to grip his shirt as if reaching for his heart. He momentarily forgot to breathe. Lefou looked at him with suspicion, followed by anger. Gaston shut his eyes. 'H-his eyes are black and lifeless.'

'See?' Lefou asked the crowd that had gathered around them. 'This ugly monster attacked Maurice, then Gaston! What do you think he will do with your children?'

A choir of gasps bounced between the buildings in the town. Gaston almost protested but kept his mouth shut and his head low, holding onto the last morsel of his pride between his clenched teeth.

'I say we kill the Beast!' Lefou declared. The crowd chanted a chorus of 'Yeah!'s before rushing to their homes to pick up torches and pitchforks.

Gaston grabbed Lefou's arm. 'You... you can't-'

Lefou took his hand and gave it a gentle rub, gazing into his eyes with that same look he gave the day Maurice's horse was found. Now Gaston was finally starting to recognise it.

'It's okay, Gaston. I'll protect you.'

A chill ran down Gaston's spine. How long had Lefou been looking at him like that?

Gaston jerked his hand away, eyes wide with terror. After seeing this reaction, Lefou's fiery glare matched the lit torches behind him.

A line of flames bounced up and down and around the town. Lefou ran to the front of the line to lead the way.

Only a few people stayed in the village, including Maurice, Gaston and Belle.

Gaston turned to Belle. 'You're not going?'

Belle cast her eyes downward. 'I'm not one to do a witch hunt.'

'Could you help me-'

Belle shook her head. 'He still hurt my Father. I can't forgive him. I'm sorry, but you're on your own.' Despite saying this, she looked up in curiosity. 'What are you planning to do?'

Gaston didn't answer, which was itself an answer. He simply looked up towards the castle, just barely able to see the tip of the tallest tower over the trees.

He headed home, picking up all the daggers he could find in his bedroom. He searched the entire house but couldn't find a single gun. Lefou's confident smirk entered his mind.

'That good-for-nothing-!' He took a deep breath. Think, Gaston, think!

He figured breaking into Lefou's house would be easy. He may have gone soft hanging around the Beast, but he surely hadn't become that much of a softie.

He was correct. One kick to Lefou's door was enough to get in. He found his guns hidden all around his room: in the tiny wardrobe, inside his chest of drawers, beneath his pillow (much to Gaston's discomfort). Also under the pillow were a few arrows. A bow was under the bed.

On his way out, he pushed away a thought that had slithered into his mind.

Who was he going to have to shoot?

Before he could even reckon with the implications of this, the Beast's oceanic eyes burst through his mind's walls, flattening any doubt under the weight of their beauty. He grit his teeth as the description of the Beast he had given to Lefou repeated in his mind.

He shoved the guns into the same satchel that housed his daggers and ran to his horse, leaping onto it and tapping it with the riding crop to get it galloping.