Ohh look, my angst leaked into the Beauty and the Beast fandom... sorry. (If it's any consolation, there is the tiniest slither of hope at the end)

His knee's hit the ground, the thin fabric of his trousers and stockings instantly soaking up the cocktail of blood and dirt. His hands followed shortly after; the gravel digging into his palms, caking him in sticky mess. It was nothing compared to the jumble of thoughts all screaming, fighting to be at the forefront of his mind.

He hadn't needed to see the Prince and Belle emerge to know how the evening was going to end. Gaston was a good hunter and a good fighter, but not nearly as good as his envy and rage spurred him to believe. That he had not returned after his departure to proclaim victory meant that he had not been victorious and for Gaston, who would under no circumstances accept failure, it meant only one thing.

It was only a matter of time before he found himself there.

The blood and death that was in the dampness of the air started to lessen and the rubble he had to make considerable effort to step over started evaporating with the darkness and the chill. The castle was starting to shine with white and gold, like it was following his trip around the outside.

He had made it out of site of the gathering crowd at the entrance of the castle before he had to paused to settle his nerves, leaning against the changing stone… because he knew Gaston, he knew he had died, and he knew he was somewhere along the path he was walking.

Magic was proven to exist beyond a doubt, changing the lives of every one of them with ease. If it had limitation then he doubted it rested with life and death… magic could undoubtedly bring him back.

It could but it wouldn't… perhaps it shouldn't either. He had to remind himself stubbornly that there was no place for hope here.

Without a few sharp breaths, LeFou pushed himself round the corner of the building. And that is where he was, on his knees amongst the filth. The muddy crimson strained his hands, and it was the only thing to stop him from sobbing into them.

It was Gaston; dark hair sprawled over his grey cheeks, blood clotted at his lips and ears, leaving a down his chin and neck, and continued down his chest but he could not follow it from grief, or shame, or any combination of emotions that he could not place.

LeFou slumped from his position on his knees onto his legs and pulled his way that little bit closer. With cold hands he lifted the even colder cheeks of his friend, pulling his head onto his lap.

If he hadn't seen war he reckoned the dampness from the blood on his lap would have been enough to do him in. Even now he felt himself going lightheaded, sickness swelling in his chest and throat with the knowledge that it was… his.

What had he expected?

This! He had expected this!

Then why had he come?

Because it's Gaston!

It was Gaston.

"Compose yourself LeFou. It's no way for a gentleman to act." Gaston said, dead lips parting with an insincere grimace. "You're getting tears all over me." Slowly it slipped, and the corners of his lips curled up slightly to one of those indignant smiles he so often had.

He had always loved to see him smile… that proper, gentle smile rather than the wolfish one he graced his adoring public with. LeFou had always reckoned his smiled could have ignited light in the darkness and warmth in the cold. They, the tagalongs, had told him he was gushing like a man half his age but they had not known Gaston like he had, how he had been and how he could be when they were not around to see.

Anyone would have been capable of falling in love with him without the outlandish show he helped him put on whenever others were there to see it, had he allowed anyone else to be a part of it.

"You've left me alone. I want to be mad at you for that, but I can't." LeFou replied, lips curving as if he was smiling himself. His breath cracked against the waves of vocal sobs that were tearing free from his throat. "Maybe in the future, I will hate you for it. When I stop lo…"

There was a stillness with the pause that almost reminded LeFou that the other wasn't looking up at him, talking to him, smiling at him but then Gaston laughed and rolled his eyes at him in a child-like playfulness he hadn't seen from him since the days of their youth; it was that little something LeFou had always hoped he'd get back.

"We should have seen it coming. It's what happens to people like me, isn't it? Villain's don't get a happy ending."

"None of this had to happen Gaston, we…" He paused, trying to swallow back tears to stop himself choking on them. He didn't think he could say it, not even now: that they could have been happy, that he loved him in every possible way, that maybe all Gaston needed was to look right in front of him. "…you could have been happy."

"No, I couldn't have." It sounded solemn, none of the humour in his face following through with the words. His smile slowly dropped but it did not disappear. "You could."

Gaston's face had returned to stone as if he had never spoken, and LeFou closed his eyes in appreciation of the last moment they got to spent in each other's company. "Please don't…No." This time it was a beg; not angry nor hurt, just utterly desperate. His head lolled onto his friend's chest. "Please… I love you."

When his eyes finally opened, it was because of the bright yellow glow.

Thanks for reading x