Chapter Text
Punching.
He couldn't stop punching. Again and again. His fists were red with blood, both his and the man’s under him. He wasn’t even struggling anymore.
Was he even still alive?
Gaston didn't know, and didn't care.
Hell, if anything Gaston hoped he was: he could suffer some more and die later.
“Gaston, stop!”
He barely heard it the first time; he blinked, stopped for half a second, before carrying on.
Someone put their hand on his shoulder. With a growl he pushed them roughly away, and heard them fall to the ground.
He kept hitting, blind to everything around him, only seeing red through his own fury.
“How does that feel, yeah?” he asked, and the man let out a whine. Still alive, then. “Good. Because I feel great.”
Someone closed their arms around him before he could give the final hit. He was yanked away, put on his feet, only then feeling the pain in his own hands.
“Gaston!”
Gaston blinked several times.
He saw the crowd around him first, wide eyes staring at him like he was some kind of monster.
Then, his eyes fell on the small man holding him in place, hands firmly gripping his arms. He looked more concerned than afraid, but seemed horrified all the same.
“LeFou—”
Gaston saw the red bruise on his jaw, the bleeding cut by his right eye, wet with tears just like the other. Another growl started rising in his chest as he remembered why he’d started this, why he was so terribly angry.
He went to turn away, to finish the job, but LeFou turned him on his heels again.
“Stop,” LeFou pleaded. “It’s not worth it!”
That was enough to make Gaston pause. That, made him maybe even angrier.
“Not worth it?” he hissed. “Not worth—”
From the corner of his eye he saw a group of men take his victim away, sending hurried glances his way. The only thing that kept him from going after them was the way LeFou grabbed his shoulders, and, ever so calm, locked eyes with him.
“It’s alright.” LeFou tried to crack a smile, but it was only a grimace through the pain. “I’m alright!”
“You’re not,” Gaston protested through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stop his clenched hands from trembling by his sides—oh, how he wanted to knock out what was left of that idiot’s teeth.
“I will be,” he replied. “Thanks to you, Gaston! Now, take a deep breath—”
Reluctantly, Gaston did. With the pressure of LeFou’s hands on his shoulders, the gentleness of his voice, and the reassuring look in his eyes, he already felt just a tad calmer.
LeFou tried yet another smile, which Gaston somehow managed to return, though halfheartedly. If LeFou said it was alright, then fine, he would let it go—just this once.
Perhaps he would shoot the man in the back next time they were out in the field.
Gaston nodded, slowly. He faced his men again.
“I’m the Captain of this company, and I punish my men the way I see fit,” Gaston barked. “Let this be a reminder to all of you!”
The men were quick to voice that the message was understood before they returned to their occupations, head down.
“I’ll kill the next one who even touches one of your hairs,” Gaston said in a breath, walking past LeFou.
At the last moment, he grabbed LeFou’s wrist, and led him inside their tent.