Little Gaston

Chapter 14

Belle had hoped that between her and Adam they would have been able to convince Gaston to go to the summer fair, to let the village see that he was alive, but after that one conversation during breakfast, it seemed to be near impossible to make Gaston sit still long enough to talk about it.

The man always disappearing when they made to try and involve him in the activities concerning the summer fair, and he remained rather elusive during the weeks that followed.

It was amazing how difficult the man could be found whenever the villagers were over to discuss everything.

Gaston was hunting a whole lot more lately, avoiding everything in the castle as good as he could, and even when he returned again, he always made sure to sneak in to be sure no one of the village would be there.

It was weird after being so comfortable in the large building, now it felt as if he was forced out while it was invaded with people he once called friends.

And if that didn't make the last few weeks difficult enough, there were his other problems with him not wearing diapers anymore when he was in his big headspace.

At least he had gotten the foresight to always take a pair or reserve pants with him, something that had proved useful more often than not.

How often had it happened that he was busy hunting, and then, when he was aiming or focusing on a trail, he suddenly felt the trickle down his legs and his prey got away while he stood there helpless, feeling the liquid soak in his boots.

By now, he knew where all the small creeks were where he could wash his pants, unwilling to admit his difficulties, certainly after he had gotten the praises of keeping dry.

It was always nice to hear Adam or Belle be so proud of him.

And today, yet again, he stood there, feeling himself pee, and looking down, he saw that he had utterly soaked his pants.

Giving a sigh, he made his way over to a small creak, washing himself and his dirty pants before putting on a dry pair and hanging the wet one on a nearby branch. Tomorrow, he would come and get it, when it was dry, and put in the laundry.

For now, he trudged back to the castle, his game bag empty, and his mood morose. He hated not having something to present when he came to the castle. It made him feel so useless. A hunter who couldn't hunt, and nothing to give to anyone.

"Flowers," Gaston said, passing a particular pretty bush with colourful flowers, "women always love flowers."

Well, he had a feeling that Belle loved them a bit less than the average woman he had offered them before, but he had seen her eyes light up when she saw some particular pretty ones in bloom when they walked the gardens.

She had even pinned a few in his hair when they had been walking hand in hand when he was small and he had shown them to Ada later and the man had called him pretty.

The memory made him flush a little. Normally men shouldn't enjoy being called pretty. His dad always said that women were pretty, and men handsome.

But still, he had preened under the positive attention and giggled when they kept calling him cute and pretty.

It should embarrass him, truly, and when he was big it did, but perhaps not as much as he should.

"Don't think about it," Gaston said to himself, collecting the flowers. His head wasn't good for complicated thoughts. He should just stop overthinking it. If they liked to call him pretty, and he liked to be called pretty, no one else mattered.

It wasn't as if anyone would find out anyway.

Gaston nodded, thinking that it was indeed the best advice, and started to collect the flowers, glad to be able to give something to Belle, even if had missed his prey.