Work Text:
Gaston felt the blow coming before it landed. He fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose. He scrambled to get up, turning around.
He felt a weight on his chest, and saw, but couldn't quite process, Lefou holding a bloody wooden statue of himself. Lefou raised the base of the statue high above his head, ready to smash it into his face. For a moment, Gaston stared at him, and saw something wild in Lefou's eyes.
His brain finally caught up with his body and he punched Lefou squarely in the face, pushing the smaller man off his body. He stood up shakily.
“FUCK!” a yelled curse from Lefou as his nose started bleeding from Gaston's punch.
Gaston started “Wh-” before being suddenly cut off by Lefou.
“Don't you start now, golden boy.” Lefou snarls. “I could've killed you. I could've bashed your pretty face in, and then what would the town do without its paragon, huh? The golden boy and the mistake of a human being?” he continues.
Lefou, blood still running down his mouth and chin, spits into the snow before continuing. “I know you, Gaston. I know your type. I bet you can't even function without someone telling you how great you are every minute. God. Fucking pathetic.”
Lefou rants on, his small body physically shaking from anger. “I thought of you as some ideal, not some…pathetic loser who can't handle rejection.” He smiles, and it's sharp, not his usual soft, dopey grin. “I wouldn't have followed you if I knew that you'd turn out to be such a pussy bitch.”
Gaston felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. Perhaps it had. He could barely string together a sentence but he tried anyway. “You-”
“You heard me.” Lefou interrupted. “You're a pussy. Bitch.”
They both stared at each other for a long time before Lefou wipes the blood off his nose and wanders into a nearby building. Gaston follows.
