If you want to take away someone's dream, make it come true... (Bill Kaulitz)
The worst thing that can happen to a dream is for it to come true. Gaston sat at the table, stabbing at a piece of roasted meat thoughtfully - damn, when did he become so thoughtful all the time? - Beside him sat Belle, eyes downcast. She had welcomed him home from the hunt with a hot meal, just as he wanted, but everything felt like a nightmare, where ordinary objects and features took on a nightmarish quality.
Yes, he had gotten what he wanted. By threatening to send Belle's father to the asylum, he had coerced her into agreeing to marry him. She was his wife now, and no one in the town could say that Gaston couldn't get what he wanted, that he could be rejected.
There was nothing Belle could reproach him for. In the mornings, he went hunting, while she, as his faithful friend and assistant LeFou told him, went to the market for vegetables, then cleaned and cooked in their hunting lodge. There was nothing she could reproach him for.
And that's what twisted his soul inside out. At first, he thought he would have to battle her, her personality, her independence, but Belle had surprisingly accepted his rules and had become submissive.
Submissive, but there was a challenge, a resistance in that submission. Gaston still felt like something was missing, even though the house was clean and the food was always hot. Something elusive...
So strange... Gaston had never held back, but since Belle became his, when he had the right to touch her whenever he pleased... Suddenly, there was a barrier between them that he himself couldn't break through. She didn't resist, she wouldn't, he could feel that, and that's why he couldn't touch her without her consent.
When the priest in the church finished reciting their wedding vows and uttered the long-awaited words for the groom: "You may now kiss the bride", Gaston turned pale as a boy and, amid the crowd's cheers, gingerly embraced his bride and barely touched her lips with his. He didn't embrace her again, not even by the shoulders.
Later, when Gaston brought his young wife home and she silently walked into the bedroom, starting to unbutton her dress with trembling fingers...
He suddenly said, "Goodnight," and went to sleep on the chair in another room.
Gaston would never admit it to anyone in his life, not even to his friend LeFou. Furthermore, he himself did not understand why he did it.
And why has he been sleeping on this silly chair for a month now. His back ached terribly from the chair.
One day, he was returning from the hunt earlier than usual. Gaston walked along the path that led to their little house. Belle was standing near the porch, washing his things. His wife had her back to him, and the hunter, without intending to, switched to a quiet pace, as if trying to track down his prey.
And indeed, instead of the usual dutiful smile and inscrutable look when meeting him, he heard quiet sniffles. Belle was crying.
Gaston was even somewhat glad. Instead of this colorless submission, some kind of emotional expression had appeared, moreover, he would finally be able to vent his irritation and strange agonizing confusion.
"Are you crying?" Gaston asked, reverting to his usual "loud step."
Belle turned around in surprise. Her eyes were indeed teary.
Gaston dramatically threw the game on the ground and raised his hands to the sky.
"Why are you trying to play the martyr? Any woman would be happy to be in your place! A nice warm home, fresh meat every day, everything you could want! Your father lives in his own house! I haven't laid a finger on you, in any sense! And you… You shed tears… Maybe you got mixed up with someone, but I will figure it out! I will get to the bottom of this!"
Belle silently stared at him with her wide-open eyes and suddenly threw the laundry basket off the stool.
"Oh God! I am so tired! You say you try? And what about me?! I am exhausting myself trying to make sure the house doesn't look like a barn! Every, every day there's a huge amount of things in the dirt, in the ground! Can't you at least not put dirty boots on the dinner table? Not a single reproach, not a single word have I said… I always smile, your house is clean, there's always food on the table. And I… Just…" the girl suddenly blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that came rushing again, but they still rolled out of her eyes. "I… My father has been getting worse… I can't even… I can't tell you about this, because you'll immediately call that awful man and gladly lock up my father in the asylum!"
She turned away and quickly walked back into the house. Slammed the door.
Gaston stood and watched her go. "I would never do that," he thought, "I just threatened her, pressured her, I didn't really think about it seriously…"
Or did he?
He could no longer understand anything, neither about her, nor about himself.