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LeFou's heart hammered as he loitered outside Maurice's door, fist poised to knock on the sturdy wood. It had been easy for Maurice to leave his village home behind and move into the castle, he'd never been attached to it like he had Paris, but of course his numerous projects and inventions had come with him. Belle had granted him a small room, as per his request, with an accompanying chamber for his work and he spent many hours whiling away at his bench.
Hearing movement LeFou panicked and forced himself to knock, not wanting to be found dazed outside the door. "Come in," Maurice bellowed. He peered nervously around the doorframe but was met with an empty room, so proceeded to the workshop. Maurice was hunched over a desk.
"Ah, Monsieur LeFou." He narrowed his eyes. "Pleasure."
"Uuuum." LeFou clasped his hands respectfully behind his back and lowered his gaze. "Hello. I just wanted to talk to you." He paused. "Is-is that alright?"
Maurice allowed his frown to melt into a warm smile, beckoning for LeFou to take a seat beside him. "Of course, of course. No malcontent remains between us, my friend."
Tentatively, LeFou perched himself at the other end of Maurice's bench. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, eyes fixed on the flagstone floor. Maurice glanced up at him. "And are you going to talk with words or should I read your mind?"
"Sorry, sorry." It was the only word LeFou had said to Maurice over the past months. Maurice had accepted his apology first time, so it was more for his own sake than Maurice's. He'd never forgive himself for that night in the woods.
"Do not be sorry-" Maurice made a scribbled note on his parchment. "Take your time."
LeFou exhaled softly. He had a lot to say, some of which he'd said before and some of which he had no idea why he was confiding in Maurice. He was a calming presence and although LeFou had become close with a lot of castle staff he'd known Maurice since he was an infant. "I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about that night... in the woods... with the wolves. Sorry."
"I've told you a hundred times, LeFou," Maurice put his pen down and rested his spectacles on his head, "I dont blame you for that. And it's not like I came off any worse for it, no harm done." He patted LeFou gently on the arm. "Is that all?"
"No, that's just routine." LeFou pulled a strand of hair free from his ponytail and twirled it through his fingers. "I was thinking of moving to Paris and wanted some advice."
"Oh." Maurice's brow creased in concern and LeFou wondered how he could care so much about him even after what he'd done. "Any particular reasoning?"
LeFou shrugged. When he was young he'd believed he'd never see anything outside the village, until Gaston had taken him hunting. Before he'd joined the army he never thought he'd get to leave France. With both his parents and his best friend dead LeFou found nothing was holding him to Villeneuve. He thought maybe he could find something to draw him to Paris. "It's a big city. There's a large... variety of people in a big city. I think, I think that a lot of people there can just blend in and fade away. People forget more easily when some does something wrong. I need that."
"You think you've done something wrong?" Maurice asked softly. Now it was LeFou's turn to frown. Until recently he'd devoted his time to following Gaston around, which meant constantly being witness to morally questionable actions. He'd always justified himself by giving his opinion, persuading himself that he'd done all he could and the situation was now out of his control. He'd been deceiving himself, but he knew that now.
"How could I not have done something wrong?" He asked sullenly. "I followed Gaston like a puppy while I watched him commit atrocities. I fought in a war. I fought against you, and Belle, and the castle. The real question is: have I done anything right?"
A warm, fatherly smile spread across Maurice's face. "You most certainly have. A lot of things. You loved a man who was incapable of loving you back, and no matter what he did you still believed he was redeemable. That's an incredible feat."
LeFou's heart was in his throat. He swallowed hard and choked back tears. If Maurice mentioned what he had just said to one person outside this room LeFou would be in the madhouse for sure. He'd seen the cart; he was too pretty for a prison cell. "Y-you won't tell anyone, will you?" He whispered hoarsely. "That I loved him?"
"Oh, my poor boy, everyone already knows. But no one can penalise you for that, he was intoxicating." He shuffled over and placed a hand on LeFou's shoulder. "We can't discriminate against you for anything you've done. We let the boys bully you as a child, for the way you acted and the way you looked and the way you dressed. We let your family take you out of school and put you to work. We pressured you into dating women, then mocked you when none of your relationships lasted. We let Gaston coerce you into going off to war. If you're a criminal, LeFou, it's only because we made you one."
LeFou blinked. "You say 'we' like you participated in all this, when I know you certainly didn't."
"Ah, but I did. I kept my distance and let the village bring you up how they pleased. I could've spared you and I didn't. I'm sorry."
"I understand," LeFou said. "And I appreciate what you're saying, that everyone owes me a second chance, but I think I'd rather take my second chance elsewhere. There's more for me in Paris; I'm not the kind of man to find solace in a small-minded village." LeFou had only seen Paris briefly during his travels, but it sounded incredibly alluring. There were greater quantities of taverns and pâtisseries and fabric shops; Paris was the so-called fashion capital of the world, LeFou would have to problem keeping up with the latest trends. Living spaces were small but grandly decorated and ballrooms were so crowded no one noticed who you went home with at the end of the night.
"Granted," Maurice nodded, "You will find thousands of men who share your preferences and thousands more who do not, but are willing to try it anyway. You will be able to easily assimilate into the stricter social class they adhere to there and the people there are far more likely to appreciate your expensive dress sense. However you have something here that you are unlikely to ever find in the mess of our capital city."
"What's that?" LeFou leaned in slightly, intrigued. What could possibly exist here but not in Paris? Paris had everything.
"Stanley, I believe his name is." Maurice smiled knowingly.
"Stanley?" LeFou questioned. Of course Stanley wasn't in Paris, but Stanley was a friend, and he could make new friends in Paris. So maybe his new friends wouldn't have soft smiles that made his insides melt or hypnotic eyes and perfect hair. And maybe they wouldn't unconsciously brush his hair from his face while he was talking or listen to him speak about his day or dance with him while everyone was watching. Maybe there wouldn't be anyone at all like Stanley in Paris, but maybe that was a good thing.
"That is the young man you danced with at the ball, is it not?"
"Yes..."
"And you love him, no?" Maurice inquired, head tilted slightly to one side.
"No..." LeFou was taken aback. He thought Stanley was attractive and he thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent together. He always looked forward to seeing Stanley. Sometimes he got a little tongue tied or flustered when Stanley made direct eye contact. But that wasn't love. Was it? "What do I know about love?" He sighed.
"A lot, I recon. You seem like a bit of a hopeless romantic to me." LeFou shurgged, secretly slightly flattered. "Anyways, Stanley's hopelessly in love with you."
"Obviously, I'm stunning," LeFou boasted. "Actually, no, it's not obvious, what did you say?" Sure, Stanley liked him, but love was probably pushing it a little bit. He did stare at LeFou a lot, but who could blame him? His eyes were gorgeous.
"That young man has been in love with you for as long as I can remember, following you around while his comrades lurched after Gaston. He twirled away that poor young lady just for a chance to dance with you. And I believe he made you this?" Maurice stroked the fine silk of LeFou's necktie.
"Yes." Stanley had spent a whole afternoon explaining to LeFou that a necktie wasn't just a length of fabric, it actually required some sewing and trimming and shaping. So he'd sewn and trimmed and shaped as the evening sun dappled his hair then presented LeFou with a royal-purple bow as the sun slipped from the sky. "But it's impossible for Stanley to like me. He's already seen me fall off a horse. And pick flowers. And eat a whole tray of biscuits. Any attractive qualities I have are surely cancelled out by the fact that I'm a walking disaster." LeFou knew what to look for a in a partner, what Gaston had always looked for: perfection. Maybe he was attractive, witty, and entertaining but he was also clumsy, indulgent, and uneducated.
"Have you considered that maybe what you find unattractive about yourself he may find endearing? Clumsiness can be cute. Gentleness is certainly an attractive trait. Biscuit eating... isn't exactly coveted in a partner but it's not offputting."
Every time LeFou fell off his horse (almost a daily occurrence. He was a foot-soldier for a reason) Stanley immediately disembarked to help him up again. He'd brought him flowers on several occasions and although LeFou had managed to put himself off that particular batch of biscuits for months Stanley consistently offered him other treats. "Huh," he mused. "I'm incredibly loveable."
"Now don't go getting all egotistical like your old friend, now," Maurice smirked.
"Don't worry, I'm already pretty egotistical," LeFou said, puffing out his chest. Maurice glared dubiously. "So what you're saying is I'm so adorable and fabulous Stanley has fallen in love with me and I should go and confess my feelings to him?"
"That is... not at all what I said. I'm just saying he cares about you immensely and you shouldn't move so hastily to Paris."
"Paris?" LeFou frowned. "Oh!" He'd entirely forgotten his motive for coming to talk to Maurice in the first place. "That's ok, I don't think Paris could handle 'this'." He gestured to his entire self. "Well, I have to go get a boyfriend now. Thank you, Maurice." LeFou jumped up and headed merrily for the door.
"LeFou." Maurice halted him. "Be careful. I can assure you this young man is most certainly in love with you, but he's gentler and more sensitive than you. You can be a little brash sometimes, be soft with him."
"I'm great at being soft," LeFou beamed, squishing his plump cheeks between his hands. Maurice sighed.
"Just be careful."
"I will." LeFou got halfway across the bedroom before pausing with a nervous shudder and leaning back through the doorway. "The villagers..." He started.
"Owe you a second chance. It was their fear and bigotry that landed you with the wrong crowd to begin with, this time they'll be much less quick to judge. You're still a young man but take it from me: life is shorter than you think and it pays to fill it with as much love as possible. Don't let anyone deny you that." Maurice smiled softly, eyes shiny with nostalgia.
LeFou had tried to fill his life with love before, but that had only landed him in heaps of trouble and eventually granted him a very abrupt first heart break. Now, as he rebuilt his life, he loved differently. He loved Mrs Potts for making him tea and feeding him baked goods and worrying about his emotional wellbeing. He loved Chip for his vibrance and energy and the games he roped him into. He loved Belle for her understanding and friendship and their reading sessions and Adam for his acceptance and Madame de Garderobe for her company (and generous gifts of outfits) and Chapeau for the cool cloths and warm drinks he brought him after the battle, to apologise for repeatedly hitting him in the face. He loved Maurice for his forgiveness and kind advice. And he loved Stanley for his caring, conscientious attitude and the way he made his heart flutter, and the soft, giggling glances they shared across rooms. It was much more fulfilling than the infatuation that had perviously occupied his every waking thought.
His face split into a huge grin. "I won't."