All Hangers All Hanging On
They are the same. Sometimes he thinks it's only because they're different from everyone else. He can't remember when he wasn't wandering the streets alone, begging for food, and sneaking into sheds to sleep. He does remember that there was another small boy with black hair doing the same thing.
"Shorty! Shorty! Tiny, little, shorty!"
He stays quiet. If he's boring and quiet he won't be interesting. They'll leave him alone.
They do, but it's because someone else demands their attention.
"Look." The other small boy walks up to them fearlessly, his blue eyes bright like everything he sees is amazing and he wants to try it all.
"Look at what, Shrimp?" the tallest one jeers, not even close to grown up tall, but still taller than them.
"Watch." He's holding a rock, but what he wants to do with it isn't clear because the older boy knocks it out of his hand. He looks into the sneering face with indignant surprise. "That was mine."
From the ground, he watches the other boy looking up at the older, larger faces, the way his shoulders are straight and his hands are relaxed. The older boys smirk and lounge and one of them steps forward. The other little boy still looks him in the face.
Suddenly, he is more afraid of seeing that other little boy cower than he is of getting punched himself.
"It belongs to him." He stands up.
The other small boy seems surprised, like he hadn't seen him before. Well, he was trying not to be noticed.
"It's a rock, little idiot!"
"He's not an idiot," the other boy says clearly with a toss of his black head. "It is mine. I want it back."
The tone of voice says that it can't be idiotic to believe the same thing the other small boy does.
If he says the same thing as the other small boy, that boy will stay on his side and he won't be alone.
The tall boy steps closer, and he thinks maybe he should just grab the other little boy and run. Before he can find out if they're both going to get beat up or if the other boy can crumple, parents start calling into the street.
The group of bigger children go in to their suppers. He and the other boy are left, wondering what it's like to have someone tell you it's time to eat and put food in front of you.
He picks up the rock and hands it back to the other boy.
"Look," the other small boy smiles. He balances the rock on one outstretched finger then flicks it into the air and catches it with his fist.
He's impressed, he couldn't do that. He tries anyway and the rock falls to the ground. "Wow."
The smile and the blue eyes brighten, and then he scowls. "Why wouldn't they watch?"
"They're dumb," he said stoutly.
"Why don't they?" the other boy growls.
He deflates. "Because we're little. And we don't belong to anybody."
"You're littler than everyone," the other boy agrees.
He might be little enough for the other boy to despise too. He changes the subject. "What's your name?"
The other boy perked up, and stood as tall as his small body would let him. "I'm Gaston."
It makes him want to stand taller too. It's on his tongue to spill his own name, but then he remembers what it is.
Gaston is a good name, and he wonders how the other boy got it when there was no one there to give it to him.
The only name he has is what has been sneered and smirked at him.
"How about you?"
He tries to think of something else, a name as impressive as Gaston's, but he can't. "Lefou."
Gaston doesn't laugh, he just nods, "Bonjour, Lefou," and grabs his hand like the adults do and shakes vigorously.
Lefou's hand feels a little smooshed when Gaston lets go. "Wow."
Gaston beams.
Even together, they're still bullied and teased. Gaston is mad, and wants to figure out how to push them off their high horses, or just leave. He looks out at the world beyond the town and sees everything that the village is not, but Lefou can only understand what he sees, and he sees ways the town could be a home.
"They don't like us because we're so small."
"They're not very big either," Gaston grumbles.
"They're not." Those other boys aren't grown up, but even next to other children, he can see their faults. That one is tall, but his arms are thin. That one is one is large, but his body is soft. He watches and listens, and learns what people think is important and what they like to see in the people around them. He knows that he and Gaston aren't always going to be little. "We're going to get bigger."
He listens and he watches. How the women gossip and the men brag and who does what and what it does to them.
"Eggs," he whispers.
They're too expensive, but they strike a deal with a glinty eyed vendor that they can have as many as they can eat. If they eat them raw.
He feels sick after eating three, but Gaston swallows them, shells and all, by the dozen.
The people who are admired are quick and strong. So they run. Lefou runs as fast as he can, faster than he thinks he can. So does Gaston, and he passes Lefou like the wind, and has been standing at the ending gatepost long enough to get his breath back by the time Lefou comes puffing up.
Gaston shifts in uncertainty. Lefou wheezes and gasps and wonders why his best is so different from Gaston's.
He looks up. "Gaston, that was incredible! You were faster than a rabbit."
The uncertainty fades and Gaston smiles.
Lefou starts to grow.
Gaston grows more.
When they're old enough for the small village school, people have started to notice Gaston. His excited, confident eyes. His dark, smooth hair.
Lefou starts to pull his own scraggly hair back into a queue. Gaston thinks it's a good idea and does the same.
People compliment Gaston's hair.
Lefou is the first to do so.
It's few years later that Lefou realizes he might never be tall. Everyone around him keeps growing and growing, but he doesn't seem to move forward at all. He still has to stand on tip-toe to see the countertops at all the shops. Everyone's eyes are above him, and they walk right past. If they do notice him, it's to remind him how small he is.
Gaston seems to almost never remembers that Lefou is short. Every, every once in a while he'll lean down to Lefou's level. Usually, Gaston just grabs Lefou and drags him to where Gaston is, including his height. He never seems to remember Lefou will fall if he lets go.
For awhile, Lefou gets to see things the way Gaston does.
He struggles while Gaston starts to fly. So Lefou grabs on to all he can. He learns how to skin an animal, how to mix and measure powder, how to load a gun. Even though Gaston knows how to do those things too, he'll let Lefou do them for him. Lefou has a reason to stay with him, and Gaston's slow, swaggering stride is easy to keep up with.
Everyone sees Gaston. The confidence in his eyes has grown and elbowed out everything else.
If interest ever seems to flag, Lefou is quick to remind everyone why Gaston is so exceptional. Then, again, the crowds part and everyone sees Gaston, and Lefou gets to walk beside him.
Lefou is rushing across the tavern with a beer in hand for Gaston when someone trips him. He's gotten better at dodging, but ale still spills all over the floor and him. The man laughs, and then Gaston is there.
The man hands over his own drink and Gaston kicks him across the room. The man buys a beer for Gaston, and one for Lefou.
"Ha! Did you see him go flying? No one tangles with you, Gaston!"
"I know."
They sit, and they toast.
A/N: In a cartoon, Lefou can be significantly shorter than everyone around him without it being too weird, but I'm pretty sure he could be officially classified as a dwarf. Which might have made some things difficult for him in a small provincial town. This was supposed to be Lefou-centric, but Gaston came tromping around wearing boots and I was compelled to give him more screen time. You could still argue they have an unhealthy relationship and Lefou isn't living up to his potential, but I wanted to show that Lefou might have some more motivation than just being a sycophant and he at the very least imagines it benefits him. Plus I like the delicious irony that Gaston employed mob mentality because he'd been a victim of it and knew how it worked. The idea is that Lefou realizes he secures his own position by bolstering Gaston.