Evermore [The Beast/The Prince x Reader]

chapter twenty-three

It had been several days, and things were only growing worse.

Mrs. Potts had given the girl a handkerchief to cough into. She kept it pressed into her palm, and when she was about to cough, she would bring it to her lips. Her coughs sounded more and more painful as the hours went on.

She began to sleep more than usual. She would sleep through the morning, the afternoon, wake up for a bit of dinner, and then fall asleep again. She would be up all night though, with a tired Lumiere at her side to keep her company.

"Here, mademoiselle," he said, coaxing a spoonful of fever medicine into her mouth. "You have a fever. We can bring it down, and then I'll bring you some pudding, alright? Your favorite!"

"I'm not hungry," she said, opening her lips and taking the medicine. She winced as she swallowed the bitter liquid.

"Not hungry at all, mademoiselle?" he asked, touching her forehead. "Not even for chocolate pudding? How about some Grey Stuff? Eh?" She shook her head. He sighed. "If only I could feel if your fever was high!"

She smiled. "It's okay, Lumiere." She licked her dry, chapped lips and turned her head towards the closed door. "Lumiere?"

"Yes, my dear?" He was at her side at once.

She nodded towards the door. "Where is he? Why hasn't he come to see me?"

"Well..."

She smiled painfully. "He knows I'm dying, doesn't he?" she asked.

Lumiere shook his head. "No, no, no... who said you are dying, mademoiselle? You will be better in no time!"

As if to prove her point, she began to cough. Her back arched off the bed as she struggled to hold the handkerchief to her mouth. Lumiere helped her best he could.

"No, Lumiere," she said, shaking her head and trying to catch her breath. "I know what pneumonia is. This is it. And this is the worst I have ever seen it. He must know that I am dying. Is he afraid of death? Is it because of his mother?"

Lumiere didn't know what to say.

                            ...

It was true. The Beast - although he was beyond sad - never sat at her bedside. If he came to visit her, it was when she was asleep. He would stand by the door and stand there, hearing the rumble of her lungs struggling to keep expanding for her.

As he stood there, he would open his closed fist, as if he half expected her to be next to him. He wanted her hand to slip in his. He didn't want to lose her, not when he was just beginning to feel something for her. It made it hurt so much more.

He wasn't strong enough for this. He had gone through this already when he was a boy - when he watched his mother take her last breaths. He never wanted to see someone's life drain out in front of him again, and although he cared for her deeply, he could not help but feel selfish about this.

                             ...

"Master," Mrs. Potts said as the objects stood quietly in the dining room, "you should go visit her."

The Beast said nothing as he stared at the red bowl of soup in front of him. He wasn't hungry. Especially now; just hours before, the Beast saw your handkerchief had spots of blood on it. And now, he was staring into a red orange bowl of soup. He pushed it away and propped his head up on his hand.

Lumiere stepped up. "It is not too late to try and win her affections," he said sadly. "I know that sounds... terrible of me, but she is not gone yet."

The Beast growled. "I am not visiting her just to get her to tell me that she loves me and then die," he said.

"But she does care for you," Mrs. Potts said. "And her heart is breaking every time she realizes you're not there."

The Beast looked up. "She misses me?"

"Of course, Monsieur," Lumiere said. "You are her best friend. She feels deeply for you, and you keeping distance from her only makes it harder on the both of you."

He felt a twinge of guilt. All the while she's been dying, he's been hiding from her. She needed him, wanted him, and he left her to just wonder where he was and why he didn't come around.

He looked down again. "I don't want to say goodbye."

"No one ever wants to say goodbye," Mrs. Potts said. "But we all have to at some point. I just don't want you to regret what you have done and haven't done when she's... gone."

He clenched his fists. A growl rumbled in his chest and he shut his eyes tightly. Even when he closed them, he could see her. For a split second, she would be in front of him, happily dressed in her gown, her smile beaming towards him. And then, in a flicker of realization, she would he what she is now.

Sick. Dying. A pale, thin figure sunken into the bedsheets with clammy skin and purple circles around her eyes. With shaking hands and fingers and painful groans, a blood splattered handkerchief in her sweaty palm.

He could not make sense of why she was dying. Why the Enchantress would leave a girl at the castle, untouched by the spell itself, and then have her die in front of him.

If he was supposed to fall in love with this girl, why would she leave? Couldn't the Enchantress fix her? She wouldn't. She was a cruel woman herself. She used her powers to prove that she was better at being good than others.

The Beast was at war with himself. He put his face in his hands and groaned. Lumiere touched him hesitantly on the arm, a sad smile on his features.

"Your majesty," he said, "we all have to say goodbye soon. You should say goodbye as well."