*in sing-song voice and dancing to the conga line* drama, drama, drawmah! drama, drama, drawmah!
Drama ahead. Okay, not that much.. :) Have fun!
Summary: Tensions bleed through as night terrors keep both up at night.
Number of years married: 1
~:~ Night terrors ~:~
She turned over and rested her hand on his shoulder...
Only, her hand hit the cold sheets instead. Her eyes opened and she stretched. He certainly wasn't in bed beside her as he had been hours before. She sat up and shrugged on her robe and went to investigate.
A vague light flickered at the end of the hall. She cautiously turned stood at the end and looked around toward the dining table.
He sat at the table when her hesitant figure appeared in the room. His hunting knife sat deep in a block of wood. His hands were tense and he yanked the weapon from its lodge.
"Gaston?"
His hand tightened momentarily. Then he set the blade down.
She stepped closer until she could see his face in the flickering candlelight.
He looked worn and troubled. His brow was tight and his lips were set in a firm line. His jaw was clenched as if he was bothered by her presence. His eyes stared unfeeling at the empty space beside her. He seemed uninterested in her curiosity and worry. But he was the one to ask first. "Are you alright?"
She placed her hands on the chair opposite him. She looked down at the knife. "Your side of the bed was cold and I woke up."
He gave a dismissive grunt. "Had a night terror but I'm fine. Go back to bed." But to his annoyance she pulled out the chair and sat down instead.
"Do you think the attack from the beast brought them back?"
A breath lodged in his chest and he let it out slowly. Her question was innocent. He felt the urge to lie to her rise then fall. "They've never left."
Her mouth went slack but she couldn't recover in time.
He stood abruptly, suddenly not wishing to talk about it. The war happened thirteen years ago - he should be over the pain already. He should be over the images of his enemies charging the ranks, his soldiers lying dead, his own life dependent on someone's actions. He should not be bothered anymore. He was the great war hero not some coward who cried over bitter and dead memories.
He couldn't let Belle see him this way. He gripped the dagger. "Go back to bed. I'll be there in a bit."
She watched him. "Where are you going?"
"For a walk." He flashed a reassuring smile that Belle refused to believe. His eyes remained dark and stormy.
She stood as well and took a step closer to him. "Gaston, I want to help-"
"You can't," he snapped. She flinched and he regretted the frustration in him that was not aimed at her. He let out a breath and gave a pained look. He glanced at the space beside her head. "Just.. just go back to bed." He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He couldn't look at her.
She opened the door with the intent to follow but he had already gone from view. With a slight groan, she closed it and returned to bed. She curled under the covers and waited.
Her eyes were just sliding shut when the bed gently dipped. She waited until he stopped moving before she turned to face him. He didn't look at all surprised to find her still awake.
She could make out his face in the darkness, with only the light of the moon filtering in through the window. "You don't have to hide from me. Please, I want to help."
He stared at her then shook his head. "No, Belle."
They had been at odds recently for a number of reasons - the beast's attack, sleepless nights filled with quaking dreams, his evenings in the tavern, her insistence at avoiding him... which was probably why he spent his nights in the tavern, the impending arrival of their child...
But she looked at him and worried her bottom lip. What she was about to say was true, but she hoped it would get him to talk. She thought if she told him one of her secrets, he'd want to share his.
"Ever since the beast's attack, I've... I've had night terrors."
He looked at her. His own troubles and anxieties forgotten. "Why haven't you woken me when they happen?"
To her surprise, he sounded hurt. She gave a light scoff and brushed off his concern. "Because I can take care of them myself."
His tone was firm and a little cold. "I've had to live with these terrors since I was fourteen. That is something I would not wish for you to endure. These night terrors are a part of me." Then he muttered as an afterthought, "Perhaps I should have told you this before we married."
She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Gaston. War hero, boastful, arrogant Gaston pitying himself? Hating himself? She wouldn't believe it.
"It's not just you anymore. You have me. We have each other- to help and get through together-"
He didn't even attempt to stop his frustrated snort.
She sat up. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"Gaston."
"Go to bed."
Her patience grew thin. "Not until you tell me-"
"I have you, yes. I am well aware of that," he growled suddenly. "But you do not dare to have me." He turned over and faced the wall. His tone wasn't kind, "Goodnight."
Belle knew he wasn't simply talking about night terrors anymore... but their tense marriage. What he said was true, but she did not love him the way he did her.
But it stung her to hear how she had made him feel.
