A deer bent down to lap up the river water, its movements graceful as a ballet dancer performing an arabesque. The babbling brook was the only thing that made a sound. Even the leaves were silent and still. Gaston held his breath, squinting his eyes at the deer with his blunderbuss pointed at it. 

 

It was getting slightly chilly, but he refused to wear a coat. In his mind, he didn’t need it. He was strong enough to handle the cold. However, a part of him knew that he simply didn’t want to wear any reminder of Belle’s rejection.

 

Ah, Belle. The ultimate beauty. The only one he deserved. The demoness who just this afternoon refused-

 

‘There you are!’

 

The deer ran away and Gaston spun towards Lefou, picking up the short man off the ground. As he yelled at him, he shook him.

 

‘What are you doing, you idiot?’

 

In the process of shaking him, Gaston had pulled Lefou’s face close to him. Lefou’s face took on a strange expression, one Gaston could not read.

 

‘S-sorry, Gaston! I won’t do it again!’ 

 

Gaston dropped Lefou, who dived headfirst into the ground. Upon looking up at the now-orange sky, Gaston groaned. He had only managed to catch several animals that day, much less than his record. Not that he had planned on hunting that day. The lack of Belle’s presence simply emptied up his schedule for the afternoon.

 

As he got up on his steed, he saw another horse racing through the forest, a covered wagon trailing behind it. It took him a second, but he eventually recognised the horse as belonging to that crazy old man Maurice. He got off his horse and ran to Maurice’s, grabbing it by the reins with enough strength to prevent the agitated creature from running away.

 

The horse looked at him with suspicion but turned back around so that Gaston could hop on. Lefou pushed himself off the ground and stared at the horse.

 

‘What’s it trying to do?’

 

Gaston stepped closer to the horse and looked into its large, frightened eyes. ‘Looks like Crazy Old Maurice needs some help,’ he said with a snicker. At first, he planned on leaving the horse alone.

 

He pictured Belle thanking him for saving her father and accepting his ring. His smile grew and his deep laughter almost resembled that of a villain. ‘And someone needs to be the hero.’

 

He jumped onto the horse and let it lead the way. After twenty or so minutes, he reached for a riding crop to speed up the process and remembered that it was in his bag with the other horse… along with the gun.

 

Gaston sighed. It was already getting dark and something told him it would be a long ride.

 

At some point, he had closed his eyes, only for them to be pried open by the force of the horse sliding to a stop. The horse had halted at a fork in the road, with one path seemingly ordinary and another enveloped in a thick layer of fog. It slowly made its way down the foggy path. Its movements carried the hesitation of someone being lost.

 

Impatience took over Gaston as he slapped the horse’s side to get it to move faster. ‘You useless little…’

 

His eyes were greeted by a gate and a towering castle behind it.

 

In the twilight, the bricks on the walls appeared blue. The black iron in the gates twisted around like vines. The trees surrounding it were mostly bare, as if it was already winter.

 

A thud echoed through the area when Gaston got off the horse. He swaggered over to the gate, pulled the doors open with ease and entered the castle.

 

As he marched through the entryway, he paid little attention to the beastly buttresses or the luscious wine-coloured rug. Even if it wasn’t so dark inside, he never cared to appreciate any interior design that didn’t involve deer head mounts.

 

For a moment, he thought he heard some chatter and turned his head, spotting an open door that led to a winding stone staircase. 

 

At the top was a room with shut wooden doors, the bottom of which contained metal bars. Gaston heard whimpering and smirked. Maurice. 

 

After taking a torch from the wall, he pulled at the lock, hoping to break it with brute strength alone. He pulled and pulled and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge.

 

‘Gaston! Why, thank you! But you must go! He’ll be here any moment!’

 

‘Who?’

 

A deep growl could be heard behind Gaston. Someone snatched the torch and threw it into a puddle. The room went dark except for a spot where moonlight came from the window.

 

Gaston faced the growler and saw a tall furred creature tread through the light on its hind legs. The creature wore a burgundy cape and the ugliest face he had ever seen. Gaston fumbled for his gun and, upon remembering where he left it, his shoulders jumped. He forcefully kept his grin and stood up.

 

‘Unhand him, you beast!’ He ordered while holding his fists in front of him.

 

The creature narrowed its eyes and Gaston realised how large they were. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they looked human.

 

‘He’s my prisoner,’ it declared in a voice deep enough to make Gaston feel a twinge of insecurity.

 

Gaston threw a punch but the Beast grabbed his hand before it could land, pushing it away from him. Gaston tried again with his other first and the Beast’s reaction repeated. He managed to get a kick in, knocking the Beast to the ground. Before Gaston could stand over the body and put a boot against its neck, it heaved its hefty body up and picked Gaston up by his torso with ease. Gaston gulped, finally understanding how Lefou must have felt. 

 

The Beast lifted a paw and curled it around Gaston’s chin, holding his head up and inspecting it. It wore an expression ever so slightly like Lefou’s from that afternoon. It widened its eyes and dropped Gaston to the floor. 

 

‘Leave this place.’

 

It turned around. Gaston considered using this to his advantage, only to remember that he didn’t have a knife. Brushing strands of hair out his face, he faced Maurice, who was shaking as he held the bars. No way was he going to let this monster rip apart his chances with Belle.

 

‘I’ll take his place.’

 

The Beast looked back, a mix of confusion and curiosity in its eyes. Its eyes shifted between Maurice and Gaston multiple times before it sighed.

 

‘Fine,’ it growled. ‘But you must remain here forever.’

 

Maurice yelped, ‘No, you can’t! You have our whole life ahead of you!’

 

‘Shut it, Maurice!’ Gaston shouted. He turned his attention back to the Beast. ‘Do we have a deal?’

 

The Beast slowly and hesitantly opened its paw to shake Gaston’s hand. He pulled out a key and unlocked Maurice’s door, dragging the old man down the steps. Ten minutes later, it came back with a resigned face. It kept its eyes as far from Gaston as possible.

 

‘Come with me.’

 

Gaston raised an eyebrow. ‘Where?’

 

The Beast exhaled bitterly. ‘To your room.’ On the way, the Beast laid down the rules of staying at the castle, still shyly avoiding Gaston’s gaze. Gaston committed one rule to memory. Don’t visit the West Wing. He made sure to remember to do exactly that.

2: Chapter 2: Is a dunce like Gaston

Gaston may have had little appreciation for non-antler-related home decor, but he knew luxury when he saw it. His assigned bed was soft as he lay on it. Finally, a home befitting of his greatness. Not that he would tell the Beast that.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted from a day of hunting. ‘Do you think he’s, er… really the one?’ A posh male voice asked in the distance. Gaston opened one eye.

 

‘But of course! It is destiny that he has been brought here.’ The other voice had the thickest French accent Gaston had ever heard. ‘And look at how flustered the master is acting! He could be the one to break the spell!’

 

‘But he’s a man!’

 

‘You have clearly never visited Paris.’

 

By this point, both of Gaston’s eyes were open. He stomped to the door but, when he opened it, he saw no one. He looked down at the floor and saw a lit candelabra and a quietly ticking clock. Confusion washed over his face but he closed the door and lumbered back to his bed with his eyes already half-closed.

 

Before he reached the bed, he bumped into something. He gasped. Then he heard a gasp. Then he gasped again.

 

‘Ooh, careful!’

 

A portly wardrobe stood before him. With a smile. A human smile.

 

Gaston raised his fists. ‘What are you, you… you… creature?’

 

‘My, my, this one’s feisty.’

 

‘He could use a spot of tea, I think,’ a motherly voice claimed from behind him. A teapot bounced onto his shoulder. 

 

Gaston grabbed the teapot and dangled it in the air by its handle. ‘Is everyone in this castle a freak?’

 

‘Hey, let Mama go!’ a squeaky voice attempted to command. On the ground was a little teacup with a chip in its rim, bouncing on the floor as he moved forward like the teapot earlier. 

 

Gaston let go of the teapot, which was caught by the candelabra. The clock was there too, smugly smirking at the candelabra.

 

‘I told you so,’ it said.

 

Gaston plopped onto the bed, taking time to process everything in front of him. ‘Have I started dreaming?’

 

‘Oh no, dear, this is very much real,’ the teapot replied. ‘Oh, my apologies. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Mrs Potts, your humble servant.’

 

The candelabra was Lumiere, Cogsworth was the clock and the wardrobe was Madame de la Grande Bouche. The cup with a chip was, fittingly enough, called Chip.

 

‘Wonderful,’ Gaston said while rubbing his face. ‘Not only do I have to live with the ugliest monster alive, I also have to live with his band of creepy servants. What a time to be alive.’

 

Lumiere and Cogsworth looked at each other with concerned faces. As if on cue, the Beast knocked on the door.

 

‘You will join me for dinner.’ A pause followed. ‘That is not a request!’

 

Mrs Potts stepped closer to the door. ‘Temper, Master, temper!’

 

Gaston scoffed a laugh at the Beast. ‘And what will you do if I say no?’

 

The Beast was silent for a moment before growling. ‘Don’t push me! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!’ Gaston could hear thudding footsteps that faded into silence.

 

‘You really shouldn’t make the master mad,’ Mrs Potts said. Gaston flexed his biceps as if that counted as a response.

 

He lied back down and considered doing the unthinkable- thinking. How easy would it be to escape? He was not one to make plans, but without plans, Belle would be out of reach.

 

Just as he started thinking, he fell asleep. 

 

In the middle of the night, he awoke to a grumbling stomach. He headed out of the room in search of Cogsworth. When he found him, he picked him up and looked at the time. He then leaned in closer to intimidate him.

 

‘Where’s dinner?’

 

‘Well, M-master said-’

 

‘And I’m saying-’

 

‘Be our guest!’ The two twisted their heads and saw Lumiere, who led them to the dining room. A long table stood in the middle of it, a vast number of living appliances presenting an equally vast array of food. In song, no less.

 

Gaston ignored the smiling knife and fork on the table, grabbing a chicken drumstick and tearing the meat off with his teeth. As he ate, he put his feet on the table. He smiled at the taste and Cogsworth huffed a sigh like he had just dodged one of Gaston’s abandoned bullets.

 

Still, Cogsworth repeatedly turned his head side to side as if checking for traces of the Beast. Lumiere noticed this and lit one of his candles, holding it in front of Cogsworth as the two stood on the table. The clock closed his eyes and let the cosy heat engulf his body. His shoulders finally relaxed. 

 

He looked up at a winking Lumiere and his pendulum rapidly swung back and forth. Lumiere pulled his candle back as a silent apology but Cogsworth took Lumiere’s arm and pulled the candle back towards him.

 

Cogsworth pursed his lips in thought. He gave Lumiere a sheepish wink back. The flame in Lumiere’s candle shot up, bursting with energy. Still, Cogsworth kept it near him, waiting patiently for it to die down.

 

After a few seconds of mutual silent gazing, Cogsworth let go of Lumiere’s hand and crossed his arms. 

 

‘Th-th-this is most unorthodox! I cannot keep up with your methods of wooing. I am clearly at wick’s end!’

 

Lumiere’s laughter warmed Cogsworth’s soul more than any candle flame ever could.

 

The two were so embroiled in their flirting that neither noticed the absence of a certain muscular man. Gaston headed to the castle's front door, only to remember the West Wing. He tiptoed up the stairs to the wing as if to make up for his loud footsteps.

 

The wing was mainly one room, a dark and messy room at that. Upon entering it and stepping over the broken furniture, Gaston strolled past the portrait of a handsome young man, only to take a few steps back once he noticed the scratch marks. Envy at the man’s looks brewed inside his gut, the torn parts offering relief from such an emotion.

 

Another relief came in the form of a glowing pink light. Gaston walked towards it and saw a rose floating inside a tall glass lid, a handheld mirror lying next to it. He gazed at his reflection, the handsome portrait disappearing from his mind. The rose drew his attention again.

 

Some of the petals had fallen onto the table, but most were still intact. Gaston pictured giving a glowing rose to Belle. As soon as that thought entered his mind, he pulled the lid up and reached for the flower.

 

‘I warned you not to come here!’

 

Gaston pivoted towards the Beast. He was still not used to that horrid face, especially with its fur sticking up like a porcupine’s quills. The Beast’s shadow engulfed the spot where Gaston stood.

 

It snatched the lid from Gaston and pushed him away. ‘Do you realise what you could have done? Get out!’

 

Gaston held up his fists but then remembered how that went last time. He raced out of the room. He could take it on. He could totally take it on. He wasn’t afraid. He just wanted to leave anyway.

 

Once he was on Maurice’s horse and out of the castle, a chill seeped into his bones. Snow constantly pummeled onto him, the wind’s roar even louder than the Beast’s. But Gaston pressed on. He kept riding until he heard a chorus of howls shatter the air.

3: Chapter 3: Convincingly puts up a tough front like Gaston

A pack of wolves surrounded Gaston.  After leaping off the horse, he cracked his knuckles, grinning from ear to ear. Finally, some easier- uh, more worthy opponents.

 

He threw some wolves into the snow, butted others’ heads together and kicked the rest. They were defeated in seconds.

 

And then more came. And more. There was a seemingly neverending supply of wolves. Gaston’s breaths grew heavier and his moves more sluggish. He tripped over the snow and fell into it, the other wolves pouncing on him and biting into his back.

 

Failure joined the cold in the invasion of Gaston’s body. He closed his eyes. This was it, huh? All those eggs he ate were for nothing.

 

A roar shook the trees, sending birds flying off them. The Beast effortlessly pulled off every one of them until one tore some skin off its arm. It kicked the rest away and they scampered back into the forest. Gaston looked up at his saviour and a seed of warmth was planted in his chest. 

 

Gaston forced himself to stand up, now in such a weakened state that he had to hold onto the Beast’s unharmed arm like a stair rail. Neither had the strength to hop onto the horse’s back. The two trudged through the snow back to the castle, holding each other up. Despite the cold, Gaston’s entire body was set aflame with embarrassment.

 

Inside the castle, Gaston frantically looked around to find something to deal with their injuries.

 

‘Uh, what do we do?’ He had never had to deal with injuries like these. He was much too strong for that. 

 

The Beast snapped its beefy fingers and some servants came to his side. ‘Get me a towel and some warm water.’ Gaston frowned, even more embarrassed than before. Once the items arrived, the Beast ordered him to turn his back towards him. Gaston groaned but obliged.

 

The wet towel against his back sent a searing pain through Gaston’s nerves. ‘Could you do that any harder?’ he snapped.

 

‘It’s what you get for running away!’

 

Gaston couldn’t come up with a witty retort for that. Still, the Beast softened his grasp on the towel. It remained painful, but Gaston could bear it.

 

The fireplace flickered, sending cosy light throughout the room. The silence between the two men somehow wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it almost put Gaston at ease.

 

Once the Beast was done, Gaston snatched the cloth and applied it to the Beast’s arm. The Beast hissed in pain.

 

‘Not so great now, is it?’ Gaston asked with a laugh. The Beast grumbled something Gaston couldn’t understand. Gaston bit his lip as he played a game of tug of war in his head. He took a deep breath. ‘Thanks. For saving me. Not that I needed it! I’m as large as a barge. You just happen to be worth two barges.’

 

The Beast chuckled. ‘I see.’ His laughter massaged Gaston’s ears. They looked up at each other and gazed into each other’s eyes. The Beast’s eyes somehow seemed even more human than when Gaston first looked into them. He was still ugly, no question, but he wasn’t nearly as hard to look at now.

 

Gaston coughed and swung his head away, the Beast simultaneously doing the same thing. What was he doing? They hobbled silently back to their rooms. 

 

The next few days were spent by Gaston holed up in his room, bored to the point of deliriousness but reluctant to run into the Beast’s eyes- er, the Beast. He used this time to work out, lifting various servants like dumbbells. Madame de la Grande Bouche was rather pleased to be lifted. Gaston only left the room to eat and ask other servants to help him with weight training.

 

One night on his way to the kitchen to get some eggs, he found the Beast sitting alone by the fire and, feeling something strange tugging at his heartstrings, wordlessly sat next to him. Between their chairs was a wooden table with an assumedly non-living full cup of tea and a picture book.

 

‘Finally, a book worth reading,’ Gaston eventually said. The Beast raised an eyebrow, his arms tense. He was about to shout at the other man for insulting him when Gaston elaborated. ‘I don’t get why they make books without pictures these days. How can you possibly enjoy a book when you don’t have any drawings to show you what the characters look like?’

 

The Beast had to laugh at that. The sound reverberated through Gaston’s body. ‘Well, I… do want to learn how to read.’ He held his head in shame.

 

‘Huh, I thought having a castle came with free reading lessons.’

 

‘I had started learning, but… things changed, and I never got the chance to finish.’

 

He was unsure why but seeing the Beast look so down in the dumps greatly disturbed Gaston. He clenched his fists.

 

‘Well, I don’t know how to read myself, but I’m sure we can figure something out. Just…’ Gaston twirled his hand in front of him with a slight bow, still seated. ‘... Try and read it in front of me.’

4: Chapter 4: For there’s no man in town half as silly

Every night for three weeks, Gaston would listen to the Beast slowly attempt to read the book. At first, he would make snide remarks but, when the Beast refused to read one night, he shut up and said nothing short of encouragement. He knew he would die of boredom in the castle if these nights of listening ceased. Plus, there was something strangely relaxing about listening to a children’s story in front of a fire.

 

Snow began to fall after the third week. Gaston made a snowman in the courtyard and pummeled it with snowballs. The Beast exited the castle, clad in a white shirt and blue cape that made his eyes pop, and was greeted by a giant snowball. He frowned at first, shocked, before scampering to the courtyard and rolling a snowball worth five of Gaston’s measly attempts. 

 

As he pummeled it towards Gaston, the other man raced away from it, only for it to tap the heels of his boots and trip him over. The ball collapsed atop Gaston’s body, snow dispersing across it. The Beast winced but tried to remain as cool as the snow. This got much more difficult as Gaston slowly rose from the pile of snow like a fish-man monster rising from the sea.

 

Gaston shook his head like a wet dog, inadvertently sending clumps of snow onto the heads of the servants in the courtyard. Lumiere scowled at him for taking out the flames on his hands but changed his tune upon seeing Gaston grin proudly at the Beast. The candelabra repeatedly nudged his elbow against Cogsworth’s door.

 

Gaston stood with a wide stance and his fists on his hips. His laugh carried the arrogance of someone who had conquered a town and collected an assortment of women along the way.

 

‘You thought that puny little tennis ball could defeat me?’

 

The Beast’s laugh was that of someone watching their pet kitten fail to catch a fly. Gaston threw another ball but the Beast dodged it. They danced around each other in a flurry of snowballs until the Beast, dodging yet another attack, fell atop Gaston. Seizing the opportunity, Gaston hit the Beast with a snowball without it leaving his hand. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, the snow falling from their heads onto Gaston’s chest. It started to melt under the heat of his full-body blush.

 

‘If you want to win against me, you’re going to have to practice your aim,’ The Beast said. A moment later, the Beast took note of their proximity and rolled onto his back. ‘Um, you see, uh, there’s something I want to show you. If… if that’s alright with you.’

 

The unsure frown on the creature’s face took Gaston back to when the Beast was wounded by the pack of wolves. Half of him was tempted to grab a cloth and tend to his face like he did his arm that night. The other half of him was calling himself crazier than Maurice. It would take more than a cloth to cure a face like that.

 

Gaston stood up and brushed the remaining snow off his tights. He smiled down at the Beast, who eventually lifted himself and led Gaston to a spot behind the castle.

 

Snow covered much of the clearing, which was the size of five tennis courts. The snow’s range included the twenty or so white, red-lined targets that stood in a line waiting to be hit by an arrow. Gaston regretted leaving his weapons behind the day he rescued Maurice. Before he could think about the beautiful blue-clad reason for his rescue attempt, The Beast placed a gentle arm behind his back and nudged him towards the shed just outside the range. 

 

The shed was the size of a horse stable and housed dozens of bows against the walls, some seemingly from other countries judging by the unfamiliar shapes and carvings. Arrows of various materials filled ornately decorated leather quivers.

 

Gaston lovingly rubbed his hands over the bows. Stuck in his small provincial town, he had never come across so many varieties of archery equipment before. His smile itself was like a brow, curved from one ear to the other.

 

‘This is incredible,’ was all he could say, transfixed by a thin indigo bow with white stripes wrapped around it.

 

‘It’s yours.’

 

Gaston took the bow off its rack. ‘The bow?’

 

‘The range.’

 

Gaston blinked with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He would have taken this as a given a few weeks ago. If there was something he wanted, he would have it. Belle’s rejection complicated things, but even after that, he was sure that he would be able to have her anyway. After all, he deserved a reward for his troubles.

 

And yet, here he stood, dumbfounded at this gift. ‘You can’t be serious.’

 

‘Do you… not like it?’

 

As Gaston shook his head, more snow fell from his hair to the ground. ‘Are you kidding me? This is the most amazing place I’ve ever been to.’ He picked up a quiver. ‘Why not keep this place for yourself?’

 

The Beast held his claws up. ‘I don’t need it anymore.’ He lowered them and looked down at them wistfully.

 

Gaston’s blood reached a temperature not matched since Belle’s rejection. He shoved the bow and quiver in the Beast’s arms and grabbed another set for himself.

 

‘I’ll break the string,’ the Beast warned, shaking his sharp-clawed pinky for emphasis.

 

‘You think I haven’t done that before?’

 

The Beast sighed and fumbled with the bow, carefully examining where his claws were. Gaston took a deep breath before raising his bow, eyeing one of the targets and releasing the arrow. It hit just outside of a bullseye.

 

Gaston rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. ‘I’m a bit rusty, but I’ll be back to being perfect in no time.’

 

The Beast shook as he raised the bow. Gaston clicked his tongue in disapproval and wrapped his hand around the bow.

 

‘Breathe in, then lift.’

 

‘I really don’t think my claws will let-’

 

Gaston glared at him, letting go of the bow. ‘Breathe in, then lift,’ he repeated more sternly. 

 

The Beast did as he was told. Gaston stepped behind the Beast and reached around to his arms, holding them in the correct position. The Beast’s shoulders flew into the air and, as a result, he missed his shot. The arrow hit the ground just below the target.

 

Gaston let go of the Beast. He was about to give the Beast a pep talk when the creature, the absolute madman, immediately prepared the next shot and got a bullseye. 

 

His goofy grin of victory was so radiant that Gaston barely noticed how sharp the Beast’s teeth were.

 

As the sky grew darker and the duo grew tired of archery practice, they headed back to the castle. They went their separate ways for dinner, Gaston to the kitchen and the Beast to his living quarters.

5: Chapter 5: Perfect, a pure paragon

Lumiere reached into the fireplace to light it with his hand. Cogsworth crossed his arms. ‘Is it really necessary to make them meet every night?’ he asked.

 

‘But it is going so well, Cogsworth.’ Lumiere turned his back to the burning fireplace and held his candles up with pride. ‘Love is in the air.’

 

‘There is no way these two men will-’

 

‘Ah, but in Paris-’

 

‘I don’t want to hear about Paris, you glorified tinderbox! Paris this, Paris that. We’re not there, and I doubt Paris is actually like that. Do you really think the master would be the type to fall for that oaf?’

 

‘Why do you always doubt me, Cogsworth?’ Lumiere snapped, leaning closer to Cogsworth and holding one candle before him as a gentle reminder of his capability.

 

Cogsworth leaned in even closer, murder in his eyes. ‘Because you’re wasting time with these flights of fancy when we should be looking for a lady who can break the spell before the final rose petal falls!’

 

Less than two centimetres of air separated the two servants. ‘If the Beast comes to love Gaston and he loves him in turn, we can be human again!’

 

As Cogsworth stood closer while pointing at him, Lumiere’s pointy nose poked his. ‘And we’ll never be human again if you don’t quit acting like a naive… imbecile!’

 

Lumiere cast his long eyelashes down as he stared at Cogsworth’s lips. The flames in his candles burned brighter. They illuminated the face he had grown accustomed to as a form of beauty after years of finding it strange. The clock began ticking faster, his pendulum swinging back and forth with the speed of a rattle in a bratty child’s hand. Concern painted itself on Lumiere’s face.

 

Cogsworth pushed Lumiere away. ‘Go back to your feather duster,’ he grumbled, crossing his arms again until the ticking slowed. He groaned and reached behind to wind the key and fix the time.

 

Lumiere’s lights went out and he dropped his hands, his entire body drooping. For the first time in a long time, he said nothing in response to Cogsworth’s words.

 

A few days later, Gaston and the Beast strolled to the archery range for more practice. Gaston grabbed a different bow this time, a simple yew longbow.

 

A bird had abandoned a nest on one of the targets. When Gaston saw a baby bird peeking out from the nest, He aimed his bow at it. Just as he was about to release the arrow, the Beast pushed the bow to the side, causing the arrow to hit the snow right next to them. He then raced to the nest to pick it up.

 

‘Have you never hunted a bird before?’ Gaston asked incredulously. 

 

‘Baby birds are different,’ the Beast mumbled.

 

Gaston was going to retort with some insult against the Beast’s masculinity, but the baby birds in his hands were kind of adorable in an odd, ugly, misshapen way.

 

Additionally, the image of a big, bulky, hairy monster holding a nest of baby birds as if they were his own children was certainly a striking one. Not that Gaston was going to verbalise that thought.

 

The Beast lifted the nest to a nearby tree. Gaston gulped a gasp when he wrapped his arms around him and lifted him towards the nest, presumably trying to convince him to pet the birds.

 

With a sigh, Gaston did so. His expression softened. The feathers were wet and rough. Still, it wasn’t the worst sensation in the world.

 

Honestly, the feeling of fur around his tight-covered legs was closer to being in the running for that oh-so prestigious title. Not because of the sensation itself, but the way it stamped Gaston’s face with a heavy blush.

 

‘Put me down!’ he squeaked. As soon as that sound left his mouth, the blush got stronger. Heroes didn’t sound like that.

 

The Beast laughed with no trace of derision, plopping Gaston down. Gaston wound up laughing too. In the process of putting Gaston down, the Beast held the other man’s hand for a moment. The Beast’s heart lifted when Gaston didn’t shudder at his paw. While they took back their positions in front of the targets, Lumiere and Cogsworth watched them from behind a tree.

 

Lumiere pointed to them. Cogsworth finally nodded in agreement, subtly reaching for the candelabra’s unlit hand. 

 

‘Oh, Lumiere, where are you?’ The female voice’s accent rivalled Lumiere’s. Lumiere pulled his hands away from Cogsworth as he sauntered to Fifi, the feather duster.

 

Cogsworth sank into the snow and buried himself in it for a moment.

 

His ticking sped up when he heard a loud thud next to him. He frantically pushed and kicked through the snow until he saw the Beast sitting next to him.

 

‘Yes, Master? Are you in need of anything?’

 

The Beast shook his head. He watched Gaston swivel towards him after a good shot and lift his bow in victory, accompanied by a bright smile.

 

‘I… I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Do you think I have a chance?’

 

Thinking back to the events of a few seconds ago, Cogsworth was highly tempted to answer with a firm, bitter no. But he held his tongue for a moment to think. 

 

‘Why don’t you invite him for dinner?’

 

‘That didn’t work out last time.’

 

‘Well, y-you see, Master…’ Cogsworth shut his eyes as if that would protect him. ‘...You didn’t exactly… ask last time.’ He opened one eye and saw not a fierce and ferocious creature but a furry man nodding while in thought.

 

When Lumiere returned, the Beast grabbed him and held him to eye level. ‘Lumiere, ask Gaston if he wants to attend dinner with me.’

 

‘You should ask him yourself,’ Lumier replied, shooing him forward with his hands. 

 

The Beast bit his lip, lowered Lumiere and sat there for a minute. Finally, he stood up and walked towards Gaston.

 

‘I thought you said you were tired,’ Gaston said. ‘I guess I must be stronger than you, huh?’

 

The Beast’s laughter was herky-jerky as he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘So I was thinking…’

 

‘A dangerous pastime.’

 

‘Gaston, would you be serious?’ the Beast roared. He coughed and looked down, silent for a moment before continuing. ‘Would you like to have dinner… with me… in the ballroom dining room?’ When the Beast looked up, his eyes shining with hope, he saw a confused expression on Gaston’s face.

 

‘Don’t you already have a place to eat? What’s special about the ballroom?’

 

‘Well, uh…’ The Beast rolled his head towards Lumiere and Cogsworth, his eyes a cry for help that went unanswered. ‘We could dance in the ballroom… together.’

 

A laugh left Gaston’s lips. ‘Why would you want to do something like…?’ Once he finally understood the Beast’s intentions, he took a step back.

 

‘I… I understand,’ the Beast mumbled. ‘It’s an odd request from one man to another.’

 

Gaston was about to point out that the Beast was hardly a man, but then he looked into those blue eyes that looked like an ocean about to spill onto the land. 

 

The Beast turned around but Gaston grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘One night. We can dance for one night.’

 

The Beast kept his back against Gaston but swung his head back towards him. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’ His voice was the softest Gaston had heard from him.

6: Chapter 6: You can ask any Lefou or Billy

The toasty glow of the lamps made the beer look even more golden. Clinks of metal steins mingled with laughter and chatter. Now that Gaston had remained unseen since that afternoon, one of the blonde dames who usually followed him was now sitting next to Lefou. Usually, this would make Lefou smile. In fact, the atmosphere of the bar would usually make him smile.

 

This time the bar had a decidedly muscular silhouette cut out of it.

 

Lefou slammed his stein on the wooden table. The girl immediately receded, raising her arms to the level of her chest with her fingers curled in fear. After a second, she inched forward to prevent herself from falling off her stool, causing it to sway.

 

‘What’s wrong, Lefou?’ she asked.

 

If only Lefou knew.

 

Ever since he had led Gaston to the perfect hunting spot a year ago, he had long asked himself what was wrong with him. Gaston had rewarded him with a pat on the head and a glowing smile that silently said thank you. Lefou was always drawn to the man’s confidence and self-focus. Yet there was something special about him doing something out of his usual character in a way that still fit him perfectly, something magical about his love of life painted on his face.

 

The night following the end of that hunt, Lefou had considered drinking his sudden, inexplicable emotions away. What, was he destined to like men now? Was that his new calling? He had shifted his gaze to the women sitting next to Gaston and was entranced by their beauty. His eyes went back and forth between Gaston and his fangirls, confusion welling in his heart.

 

He had opted to drink nothing out of fear of revealing his new secret. Naturally, Gaston hadn’t noticed.

 

Now it was Lefou’s turn to ignore someone, the girl beside him whose beauty had faded not in appearance but in Lefou’s eye. Just as he lifted his stein to his lips, Maurice pushed through the doors.

 

‘Gaston’s been captured!’

 

Lefou’s ears perked up at that. Of all people, Gaston?

 

‘Who did it?’ a man asked. Billy was a tall (not as tall as Gaston, of course) and scraggly man with an equally scraggly beard. He had two steins of beer on his table.

 

Maurice, already panting from running, sped up his breathing. ‘A fearsome beast! He has the horns of a buffalo, the claws of a bear and the jaws of a wolf! He let me go in exchange for Gaston.’

 

A feeling of intense hatred sparked within Lefou’s soul for a tiny moment. Maurice let Gaston be captured? Lefou’s precious Gaston? He took a sip and calmed his nerves.

 

‘Ha, as if Gaston couldn’t have taken him on!’ Billy retorted, pulling up his pants to reveal a bite mark on his ankle.

 

‘Yeah!’ shouted multiple people in an out-of-sync chorus. 

 

Maurice’s entire body trembled. ‘No, he was a terrifying, dangerous beast! No one could-’

 

‘Let me guess, crazy old Maurice!’ Lefou responded, putting on his best Gaston impression. He slammed his stein again and crawled onto the top of the table. ‘He could fly and shoot fire from his mouth!’ He leapt off the table like he was about to fly himself. Befitting his name, his decision to do this resulted in his bulbous nose crashing into the floor. He rubbed it, stood up and brushed off the dust on his clothes like it was nothing. 

 

He was about to continue mocking Maurice when a memory whizzed through his brain. Gaston was riding on Maurice’s horse with no weapons at hand. After that, Lefou had taken all the weapons Gaston had left behind to his own house, glad to have pieces of the other man in his possession.

 

Once the memory disappeared, Lefou shook his head. Couldn’t Gaston have used his fists? Still, the memory bugged him.

 

Everyone laughed Maurice out of the bar and Lefou returned to his seat. He looked down at the beer still left in his stein, spotting his reflection. His chin was much weaker than Gaston’s. He angled his head towards his arm and saw how flabby and frail it was.

 

If Gaston really was captured, Lefou would be able to do nothing. He grit his teeth, hopped off his chair and stormed out of the bar. He headed into the forest, stopping by a boulder around his size. He reached around it and put all his effort into picking it up. It didn’t budge an inch.

 

Lefou slipped out of his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and picked up two less heavy but still weighty rocks the size of his palms. As he flexed his arms, their pain did little to dissuade the corners of his mouth from lifting to his cheeks.

7: Chapter 7: And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on

Out of all the things one could expect upon reentering the castle, the last thing Gaston anticipated was a horde of chattering household goods sweeping him off his feet and taking him to his room. On the way, brushes went through his hair and he coughed when perfume was sprayed into his mouth. He almost kicked some of the servants away but calmed himself when ideas of what the Beast would look like entered his mind.

 

Madame de la Grande Bouche put Gaston in a cream-collared golden coat nearly reaching his knees, embroidered by equally golden leaves. The vest underneath was also cream in hue. His coat, vest and white breeches and shirt fit him perfectly. 

 

He grunted when his hair was pulled back in a tight low ponytail with a golden bow. ‘Hey! Woudya mind-’

 

‘Care for a spot of tea, Sir?’ Mrs Potts offered. Chip leapt into Gaston’s hand, tiny in his thick fingers. Gaston was more of a beer man but he took a sip. Anything to calm his nerves. Which he certainly didn’t have.

 

He looked at himself in the mirror and licked his teeth to ensure they were clean. He beamed at himself. Perfect. As always.

 

Once he stood up, his head began spinning. He leaned on his hand, which was placed on his seat. He made a grave mistake: committing the great crime of thinking. Paintings of him and Belle, living in a cottage with several dogs and six or seven strapping boys, slowly burned to a crisp in his mind. The servants surrounded him, supporting him with whatever could pass as limbs. Gaston shook his head.

 

‘I’m fine,’ he said, flashing a grin at the servants. Remember, he was feeling no nerves. Zero. Zilch.

 

His head cleared a bit once the mental paintings were extinguished. He straightened his back, wrapped his hands around each coat lapel, and strode to the ballroom door. The Beast was waiting for him, wearing a similar outfit but in different colours. A cobalt jacket with a gold collar, a golden vest and black breeches. 

 

Unlike Gaston with his white stockings and brown shoes, the Beast wore nothing on his feet, showing his hind paws as per usual. The contrast between the put-together suit and the feral shoelessness caused a tiny skip in Gaston’s heartbeat. He almost chuckled at the sight, but then the Beast smiled at him like he was looking at a precious memento. That caused a few more skips in Gaston’s heartbeat.

 

The Beast held out his arm. Gaston hesitated but wrapped his arm around it, inviting the Beast to lead him to the dining room outside the ballroom. Red velvet curtains flanked a portrait depicting various statues that ran from just above the fireplace to the roof. Atop the mantle were two candelabras that did not appear to be living. 

 

Next to the fireplace was a long table covered with a smorgasbord of dishes. The scent of freshly cooked meat wafted through the air, the steam from the dishes collaborating with the candles to create a warm atmosphere. 

 

The Beast stood by the chair at one end, waiting for his brain to decide. Was he supposed to pull out a chair for a man? Was this in the code of chivalry his parents had tried to instil in him years ago?

 

Before he could even decide, Gaston sat in the seat and dropped his shoulders as he got comfortable. The Beast shuffled with his head hanging low towards the other side of the table.

 

He and Gaston, at first, tried to use their manners and daintily enjoy the delicacies before them with the appropriate cutlery. After a minute or so of awkward silence, they stared at each other, slowly smiling as the same idea popped into their heads.

 

They grabbed the food on their plate with their hands, stuffing it into their mouths. They tore food apart like children opening presents on Christmas morning. They couldn’t help but laugh at each other, even with their mouths full.

 

Watching the scene from behind the ajar doors, Cogsworth placed a hand over his open mouth, ticking several times a second.

 

Lumiere patted him on the shoulder from behind him. ‘Relax, it’s working.’ As if to prove himself right, he leaned forward to get a better look. He and Cogsworth were standing cheek-to-cheek.

 

The ticking somehow sped up even more. Lumiere backed away in worry. ‘Are you alright?’

 

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Cogsworth spat, crossing his arms and breathing heavily until his ticking slowed.

 

‘Mon chéri,’ Lumiere began while caressing the number 9 on Cogsworth’s cheek. ‘You owe it to yourself to be a bit more honest.’

 

Cogsworth did not divulge any truths, but he did melt into Lumiere’s candle hand despite it not being lit. They stayed like that for so long that they forgot to return their attention to the messy eaters they were spying on.

 

That was until the Beast and Gaston stood and headed to the door. Lumiere and Cogsworth scuttled away.

 

The Beast opened the door to exit the dining room but Gaston insisted with his eyes that he open the doors to the ballroom.

 

Inside the vast marble room, a glittering golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was adorned with a painting of cherubs and birds.

 

A team of servants stood behind one of the pillars that held up the round balcony above everyone. They played an assortment of instruments, from violins to woodwinds to a miniature piano. Together they created a lush but gentle musical landscape for the two men to dance in.

 

The Beast and Gaston bowed before the Beast wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist and grabbed his hand.

 

Gaston opened his mouth to protest his role in the dance but the Beast swung him around and stepped forward to the rhythm of the piano. Gaston closed his mouth and smiled softly, placing his hand on his shoulder. As the Beast spun around with Gaston, he held his neck out and grinned at the servants as if to ask if they could see what was happening.

 

He got distracted by his own silent attempt at communication, something Gaston used to his advantage. He took the Beast’s arm and pulled it from its position behind his back, pulling it up onto his shoulder. Gaston then put his own arm behind the Beast’s waist and pushed him closer. The Beast was taken aback by these actions, but the proud, mischievous glint in Gaston’s eye convinced him to go along with it.

 

The violins swelled as the two continued dancing. The Beast’s hand was soft and snug. He must have bathed before that evening, judging by both the cushiony feeling of his fur and the fresh scent of thyme coming from him. The pair looked into each other’s eyes and forgot that anyone else was there.

 

The song ended and the dance partners bowed again. The Beast headed towards the glass door to the outside balcony and Gaston followed him as the blue-coated man opened it.

8: Chapter 8: No one could love a beast

The air was cold but the light breeze was pleasant against Gaston’s face. He sat on the short balustrade and gazed at the sky, whose hue almost perfectly matched the Beast’s coat. It felt like this was a sky made just for him and the Beast.

 

The Beast hesitantly sat next to him. Gaston raised his legs onto the balustrade and leaned back against one of the stone vases. It didn’t take long for his weight to accidentally knock the vase off the balcony. As he fell back, he immediately expected the Beast to save the vase, but instead he grabbed Gaston’s hand and pulled him up before his head could hit the stone.

 

‘Are you okay?’ the Beast said, holding Gaston up to his chest with his hand still clasped around the other man’s.

 

Gaston peered over the balcony but couldn’t see the vase in the mass of darkness below. He gulped. His face flushed before he could even say the word, the one word that felt the most alien coming from his mouth.

 

‘Sorry.’

 

‘That wasn’t an answer.’

 

Gaston swivelled until his feet were on the balcony floor, letting go of the Beast’s hand. His hand suddenly felt icy cold by itself.

 

‘I’m fine,’ he said. A chuckle left his lips. ‘You know, for a beast, you sometimes forget to act like one.’

 

The Beast’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then his expression softened. ‘I wasn’t always this way.’ He bashfully ran a hand through the fur behind his head.

 

‘Wait, you mean you used to be more of a jerk, or you used to look like a normal man?’

 

‘Both.’ The Beast raised his paws to the sky and stared at them. ‘I made some foolish decisions and wound up with this curse. I’ve spent the last few years waiting for a cure while telling myself every day that I don’t deserve it. I got myself into this mess, and now I’m a monster.’

 

Although the Beast laughed, his frown showed little amusement. Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them spill. ‘I guess I always was one. This curse held a mirror to my face and told me no one could ever love someone as monstrous as me.’

 

Gaston put one leg on the balustrade and rested his arm on it, looking over at the forest beyond the balcony. His sigh floated in the cool air.

 

‘I wonder what a cursed mirror would tell me. Would it tell me that Belle would never love me? Huh, ridiculous!’

 

‘Belle?’

 

Gaston whipped his head towards the Beast and saw the creature’s body tense up until it shook. Gaston couldn’t recognise the emotion that pulled his heart down. The closest thing he could compare the feeling to was when he had an unsuccessful hunt.

 

‘Yes… Belle. The most beautiful girl in town.’ The more he spoke, the more his voice withered. ‘I haven’t seen her in so long. I…’ He looked into the Beast’s eyes, still shiny with potential tears. He immediately looked away and coughed. ‘I miss her,’ he said with a more commanding voice. ‘I wish I could see her one last time.’

 

After a few moments of deliberation, the Beast slowly exhaled. ‘Speaking of mirrors… there is a way for you to see her.’

 

Gaston raised a puzzled eyebrow, matched by the other when the Beast led him to the West Wing. He searched for words until the Beast picked up a mirror beside the wilting rose on the table. 

 

The Beast handed it to Gaston. ‘This mirror will show you anything. Anything you wish to see.’

 

‘I… I’d like to see Belle,’ Gaston said. The mirror did nothing. ‘Please.’

 

The mirror glowed green and the glass showed the moving image of Belle, surprisingly enough, talking to a male villager. The two stood close to each other. Perhaps too close. Gaston’s blood boiled.

 

‘What do you see?’ the Beast asked.

 

Gaston held the mirror against his chest to hide the vision. ‘She…’ He did the dastardly act of thinking. ‘She needs my help. I must rescue her.’ He looked up at the Beast. ‘But…’

 

A million emotions clawed at each other to take control of the Beast’s face. ‘Go, rescue her,’ he eventually muttered, his voice as hollow as the glass case surrounding the floating rose.

 

‘But you said-’

 

‘You’re free.’ The Beast finally settled on a small but comforting smile. ‘You’re no longer my prisoner.’

 

Prisoner. That word sounded like a relic of centuries past to Gaston’s ears. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. Something pulled his heart down again.

 

He took the mirror to his room, where he changed back into his regular attire. He hopped on Maurice’s horse and rode it into town.

 

The Beast rested a paw on the table and slumped over it. Cogsworth, Lumiere and Mrs Potts entered the room as if on cue.

 

Upon seeing his body language, Lumiere asked, ‘Where is your amoureux?’

 

‘I… I let him go…’

 

Mrs Potts gasped. ‘You WHAT?’ the three servants shouted simultaneously.

 

‘He loves another. It would be better for him and this… Belle… to be happy together.’ He uttered Belle’s name like it was the name of a recently discovered, invasive species of flower.

 

Lumiere and Cogsworth looked at each other with wide eyes before casting them down in perfect sync. Lumiere, unsure what else to do, reached out to Cogsworth, who writhed away from him and bolted out of the room. 

 

The second-last petal fell onto the table. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save us,’ the Beast said.

 

After a few solemn moments of contemplation, Lumiere crossed his arms behind his back, straightening his back like a good servant.

 

‘Well, I suppose there is nothing you could have done,’ he said.

 

Mrs Potts chimed in with, ‘If he did not come to love you, you can’t change that.’

 

To the servants’ surprise, the Beast smiled. It was a half-smile accompanied by eyes narrow with exhaustion, but they figured it still counted.

9: 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. 

10: Chapter 10: No one makes Gaston ride through the woods like the Beast

Gaston caught up to the mob just as they arrived at the castle. The once-blue sky was red with flames as the townspeople stormed to the front door. 

 

Gaston hid behind a tree, trying to figure out a plan. The mob thrust a tree trunk through the door, broke it and stampeded into the castle.

 

He heard cheers, followed by yelps and squeals. Gaston jumped off the horse and ran to the entrance, peeking from behind the door.

 

A light flashed before Gaston’s eyes as Lumiere lit a man’s bottom. Cogsworth pulled a woman’s long nose towards his pendulum and repeatedly smacked her with it. 

 

Lumiere and Cogsworth stood back to back as they continued attacking the intruders. Lumiere gave Cogsworth a wink, which made the pendulum slapping go even faster. Despite his embarrassment, Cogsworth gave Lumiere a smile with enough warmth to rival Lumiere’s lit candles.

 

Mrs Potts and Chip poured tea onto the villagers. Madame de la Grande Bouche dropped from the top of the staircase and slammed onto a man’s back, all while belting out the highest note Gaston had ever heard. 

 

Gaston took the commotion as an opportunity to sneak up to the West Wing. If he could warn the Beast ahead of time, maybe things would work out.

 

Before he could sigh in relief upon seeing the Beast’s face, he saw the Beast stepping backwards onto the balcony as a knife-wielding Lefou inched closer.

 

‘How dare you take away my Gaston!’ He yelled, taking a step every few words. ‘You took him and… a-and changed him!’

 

‘He changed me!’ the Beast retorted in the voice of someone about to cry. Euphoria bloomed in Gaston’s chest when he heard those loving words. This feeling disappeared when the Beast stood dangerously close to the balcony rail. 

 

Lefou snickered. ‘Did you really think someone like Gaston could ever care about an ugly monster like you?’

 

Gaston picked up his bow and arrow, aiming them at Lefou. He took a deep breath but saw the Beast staring at him.

 

He looked at Lefou, his longtime friend. He tried to will himself to shoot, but the sight of the Beast in danger made him unable to breathe properly for the shot. The arrow hit the balcony floor beside Lefou, who spun around. Loose strands of hair fell down Lefou’s face and the floppy bowtie around his neck was crooked. His teary eyes glistened like his knife in the moonlight.

 

‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ Lefou said. ‘No need to kill this beast for me. I’ll do it for you.’

 

Gaston pulled out a dagger, hoping it would somehow be easier to use on his target. ‘You little-’

 

He lunged at Lefou, who slipped underneath him. Gaston’s unused momentum sent him running towards the Beast, knife still in hand. The Beast stepped to the side on instinct. Gaston saw the tops of the trees beneath him as he began to fall. 

 

His core went through whiplash when the Beast wrapped his arm around his torso. The Beast pulled Gaston back towards him and caressed his cheeks as if checking for injuries. The ends of his claws dug into Gaston’s cheeks ever so slightly, but his fur was soft against his skin. Gaston placed his hands atop the Beast’s to get him to soften the grip of his claws. He reached for his face and brushed his thumbs against the fur above his cheekbones. Their smiles were as soft as the Beast’s fur.

 

The Beast roared in pain as his upper half curled backwards. Lefou pulled the knife from his back, a crazed yet hopeful smile on his face. 

 

Gaston picked up Lefou by his collar and held his dagger up to his face. Lefou was heavier than usual. He kicked the dagger out of Gaston’s hand, freeing himself from the distracted man’s grasp. He leapt off the roof onto an arcading. Gaston picked up his dagger.

 

Lightning punctured the sky with strike after strike, momentarily lighting it before leaving it in darkness. During those flashes, Gaston could just barely see Lefou enough to follow him.

 

‘You… monster!’ Gaston shouted as he pounced on Lefou, who had a broken castle piece in his hand like a club. Lefou swung the club in Gaston’s direction, hitting his shoulder. Although the club's top broke into pieces upon impact, Gaston only slightly winced as if the club weighed little more than a chestnut seed pod. Any other day he would be proud to be so impervious to attacks, but at this moment, all he could see was the red-tinged image of the man who attacked the Beast.

 

Lefou held the club up to defend himself and Gaston tried to push it away. They engaged in a battle of pure strength with their hands tightly clutching the club. Eventually, Gaston won.

 

He shoved Lefou down, ground his fist into his chest and raised his dagger-wielding hand into the sky. His chest heaved with each laboured breath.

 

Lefou’s eyes were wide and his jaw was open. ‘I’m the monster? Look who you were just making kissy faces with! Did that beast make you go blind? If he hurt you, I swear to-’ Lefou screamed as Gaston lifted his arm in preparation to strike.

 

‘No!’ The Beast roared, reaching his paw out into the sky.

 

Gaston held the knife in the air with a shaking hand. He looked up at the Beast, slumped over the balcony with his hand reaching out to Gaston but being much too far away. Those blue eyes of his were full of so much suffering.

 

Gaston dropped his dagger. He leaned in towards Lefou with a scowl. ‘Get. Out.’

 

He then stood up and twisted his body towards the Beast. He took a few steps towards the balcony, hoping to climb up to him. Lefou had other plans.

 

Lefou took the dagger and a step, hoping to stab him. ‘If you’re not mine, you’re no one else’s!’ he screeched. His foot rolled on the half-broken club beneath him, sending him falling backwards. Gaston reached out to him but it was too late. Lefou disappeared into the mist below like that vase Gaston had knocked off the balcony.

 

Gaston stood there momentarily, trying to grasp what had just occurred. He resumed his task upon hearing a whimper of pain from the Beast.

 

He climbed up the balcony and knelt by the Beast, hovering a hand over his back.

 

His voice was hoarse with panic. ‘What do I do? I don’t know how to heal wounds! You can’t die on me! You just can’t!’ Tears escaped from Gaston’s eyes.

 

The Beast rolled onto his back and rested his paw on Gaston’s cheek. His breaths were ragged and yet strangely serene. He grinned at him.

 

‘Maybe it’s better this way. At least I got to see you one last time.’

 

He dropped his paw and slowly closed his eyes.

 

‘No, come on, stay with me! Beast!’ He slammed his fists on the Beast’s chest. ‘You can’t just leave me like this, you idiot! I…’

 

The last rose petal began to fall.

 

Gaston hesitated. Was he really going to say this? The words seemed so foreign coming out of the mouth of someone like him. It was like a child swearing or Belle saying yes to marriage. And yet, no words had ever rung so true.

 

‘I love you!’

 

Gaston saw a streak of red rising from the Beast and initially assumed the worst. But then an orange light shot up in the sky to meet it, followed by yellow, green, blue and violet. The streaks of light twisted around each other and transformed into two intertwined hands. Finally, an almost blindingly bright white light lifted the Beast off the ground, sending waves of wild wind outwards.

 

The hairs on Gaston’s neck stood up as he watched with utter confusion. This was followed by fear when the light appeared to swallow the Beast. 

 

Parts of the light subsided, revealing legs and hands where there were once paws, luscious locks of auburn hair where there was once a mane and a handsome, clean-shaven face where there was once a furry beast.

 

The light gently laid the man back on the floor of the balcony. Gaston’s hand stalled, but he eventually touched his face, stroking his fingers against the man’s strong jawline. He winced a little, unsure what to make of this unfamiliar face.

 

The man opened his eyes and Gaston’s tight shoulders loosened. It was those same brilliant blue eyes he loved.

 

‘It… it’s really you…’ Gaston whispered. The other man sat up. Gaston leapt forward and wrapped his arms around his waist in a bone-crushing hug. ‘You’re alive!’

 

The man patted him on the back. ‘Okay, you can stop now.’ His voice was still deep, but not nearly as much as before.

 

Gaston obliged but not without giving the man a light nudge in the shoulder with his fist. 

 

‘Don’t scare me like that, big guy. Why did you tell me to stop when I tried to attack Lefou?’

 

The man twisted his head to the side at a low angle. ‘I… I didn’t want to see you take a human life.’ He looked back at Gaston with a smirk. ‘So… you love me, huh?’

 

Gaston’s face went completely red. He spluttered, ‘That… th-that… Okay, fine. I love you. Happy now?’

 

The man shrugged. ‘I’m not complaining. It saved me.’

 

He put a smooth hand around Gaston’s cheek and leaned closer. ‘Wait,’ Gaston said. The man puckered his still-thick eyebrows in disappointment. ‘I can’t exactly call you Beast now, can I?’

 

The man laughed. ‘Call me Adam.’

 

‘Well, then, Adam, I love you. You better love me back after all this.’ Adam’s smile grew as he closed the gap between their lips. Gaston’s eyelashes fluttered at the contact. He felt as though he was the one being lifted by light. His heart danced around his chest in every direction. After a second of experiencing these sensations, he kissed him back.

 

Gaston put his arms around Adam’s head and brushed his thumbs against his hair. Adam had his hands around his waist.

 

When they finally stopped, Gaston’s lips tingled with electricity.

 

‘Ah, l’amour is in the air!’

 

In a perfectly synchronised motion, Gaston and Adam turned their heads towards the entrance to the balcony.

11: Chapter 11: Thanks to him, my new life is exhilarating

Two men walked towards them, a twig-like one with a long face and a short, round man with a matching head shape and a thin, straight moustache that jutted outwards.

 

The thin one spoke again, revealing himself as Lumiere. ‘Did I or did I not tell you, Cogsworth?’

 

The other man crossed his arms. ‘How on earth was I supposed to know it would work?’ The voice was unmistakably Cogsworth’s. ‘It’s a crazy idea!’

 

‘Is this crazy?’ Lumiere kissed him on the cheek.

 

‘Why you-!’ Cogsworth twisted Lumiere’s head until their lips met. The kiss was broken by Cogsworth almost as soon as it began, leaving Lumiere grinning with a dazed expression. ‘We’re human again!’ Cogsworth’s voice sounded freer than it ever had been, matching his open arms and the way he tilted his head towards the sky.

 

Gaston looked up. The sky was bright blue and the castle shined in light colours like new. Flowers blossomed on once-dead vines. Statues of angels had replaced the gargoyles. The air felt fresher and he could hear a chorus of chirps from little birds.

 

As he stared at everything with awe, Gaston instinctively grabbed Adam’s hand. Adam, in turn, instinctively squeezed Gaston’s hand, a blush forming on his cheeks. Upon feeling this, Gaston looked down, saw their interwoven hands and considered letting go. However, he noticed how soft and smooth the other man’s hand was compared to his former paw. He grinned as he yet again participated in that most dangerous of pastimes: thinking.

 

He tugged Adam by the hand out of the castle, only stopping when they reached the archery range. He dropped a bow and quiver into Adam’s arms.

 

Adam raised an eyebrow. Gaston lightly touched Adam’s hand until he understood. Adam raised the bow and took a shot. The arrow went straight into the centre of the middle target.

 

He beamed at Gaston and laughed when the other wrapped his arms around him. Gaston grimaced like he was trying to pick up a carriage with one hand.

 

Adam asked, ‘What are you-’

 

‘I thought it would be easier to pick you up since you had gotten smaller. Clearly, you’re still at least the size of one and a half barges.’ Gaston let go of him and crossed his arms. ‘One day, I’ll be able to do it.’

 

Adam placed a hand on Gaston’s shoulder, his intense grin simmering down to a soft one. He leaned down and kissed him.

 

‘You’re plenty strong, Gaston.’ 

 

Gaston looked down, conflicted, before flexing his arm with his long-lost confidence. As the two walked back to the castle, Gaston chuckled to himself.

 

‘Okay, but what if I ate six dozen eggs?’

 

Adam sighed. ‘Gaston…’

 

‘Seven dozen?’ In response, Adam groaned. ‘Too many?’ Gaston grabbed one of the door knockers and pulled the door open with it. ‘I think I’m a little tired of eating eggs.’

 

A few nights later, Adam and Gaston hosted a party, inviting everyone from the village who hadn’t attacked Adam. The couple danced all night in front of a surprised crowd.

 

Cogsworth and Lumiere watched with their hearts beating slowly and contently in their chests. For a moment, Cogsworth’s heart sped up upon remembering something.

 

‘Lumiere, what about Fifi? Do you not love her?’

 

‘I wouldn’t say ‘love’. I had fun flirting with her, though.’ Lumiere cast down his eyes, glimmering with mischief. ‘It’s even more fun flirting with you.’

 

Cogsworth scoffed, moving his head away with righteous indignation. ‘Is that all?’

 

Lumiere spun his head in the opposite direction, equally indignant. ‘Cogsworth, I wouldn’t have let you kiss me if I didn’t love you. Do you think I treat l’amour like a joke?’

 

The two paused, realised what they were arguing about and burst into laughter. Lumiere wrapped his arm around Cogsworth’s shoulders while Cogsworth wrapped his own behind Lumiere’s back. They stood side by side, watching the main attraction at the party.

 

When he started to dance with Adam that night, Gaston looked down at his feet, keenly aware of how he must have looked to everyone. But Adam held a curled finger beneath his chin and lifted it, gazing at him with an expression tantamount to an adult rereading their childhood books for the first time in years. Suddenly, Gaston felt like he and Adam were the only ones in the ballroom, lost in the fond memories swimming in his ocean-blue eyes.