A/N: Written for a prompt on Tumblr: Their first fight.. followed by makeup fluff. It ended up being a lot more angst and less fluff than I intended, but I hope you still enjoy it.

In Stanley's eyes, it's important to say things as they are.

In Lefou's eyes, it's important to say things as they would ideally be.

It was why Lefou would endlessly praise Gaston, and why he saw good in him long after decency had departed.

Lefou looks at himself and sees a man grieving his best friend; he sees a man trying to honor the memory of a war hero.

Stanley looks at Lefou and sees a man under the control of a ghost. He wants Lefou to free himself. To stop acting as he had when Gaston was alive.

He wants Lefou to realize he's his own person.

"You loved him," Stanley says evenly. "You loved him, and he knew it. But he did nothing but use you."

"That isn't true." Lefou shakes his head. "When we were in the war, he protected me. That's not using. He kept me around when few of the others would give me the time of day."

Stanley frowns. "Tell me, Lefou, what Gaston liked about you."

"Well," Lefou says, thinking carefully. "He always liked how I could cheer him up after a bad day. He loved how I could work the knots out of his shoulders. He loved how I would manage our affairs- making arrangements and all. Lots of things!" He smiles at the memories, but then stops when he sees Stanley's expression.

Why does Stanley look so upset?

"Lefou," Stanley murmurs, answering Lefou's unasked question. "Do you realize that all of those things are things you did for him?"

"So?" Lefou asks, confused. "Love, friendship- you do things for each other."

"Yes," Stanley says, voice getting louder. "Each other! Gaston did nothing for you. I can name a dozen things I like about you… things that have nothing to do with what you do for me!"

"What's wrong with doing nice things for people?" Lefou snaps, angry and defensive now. "And why are you only bringing it up now that Gaston is dead and unable to defend himself?"

Groaning in anger, Stanley throws his arms up. "Do you not see the difference, Lefou, between being nice and being a slave to his whims? He could have said he was cold and you would have raced to set yourself on fire to keep him warm!"

"That's not true!" Lefou is shouting now. "If you think I'm so weak, so weak that I was only Gaston's glorified servant, what are you even doing with me? You must want the same thing!"

Stanley doesn't even look angry anymore. He just looks so overwhelmingly sad. "I want you to see what you really deserve, and I want you to see that…" But he trails off, shaking his head. He knows if he says it aloud, Lefou will pretend to understand. It's something Lefou will have to realize himself.

"I'll see you later," he says, turning around to head for his home.

"Stanley! Wait!" Lefou cries, grabbing his shoulder. "Please-"

"Lefou," Stanley says as gently as he can. "I am not mad at you. I just… there are some things I can't do for you. Things you'll have to discover on your own. And until you do… I don't think… I don't think what we have will be good for you or for me."

He starts walking, and with every step has to fight not to run back and pull Lefou into a hug.

Lefou learns a lot of things the next day, but none of them are what he wants.

He learns that it's not possible to be told your best friend was only using you and then just go about your day normally.

He learns that it's not possible to hear those things and then not rethink every interaction you've ever had.

He sits and watches the people of the town. He watches friends and lovers and siblings and parents and children. He watches people fight. He watches people laugh.

None of them are what he and Gaston were, but isn't that a good thing? Doesn't that just mean that he and Gaston were special? Love was supposed to be about sacrifice, right? And maybe Gaston didn't love him back, but he wasn't supposed to expect it. It just showed he was good. Devoted.

What is he supposed to be seeing?

He shakes his head in confusion and then goes to the tavern.

Stanley isn't there. Lefou hadn't expected him to be, but it still makes him wistful.

He watches Tom and Dick telling jokes, clapping each other on the shoulder and bumping beer glasses.

They both look happy, even when Tom accidentally knocks his glass over into Dick's lap.

Dick doesn't fly into a rage and insult Tom; he simply waves him off, though he accepts Tom's offer of another round on him.

If Lefou had spilled that drink on Gaston's lap…

He frowns. Well, he thinks, that was different. Gaston was a war hero and deserved to be treated as such. He'd deserved the attention Lefou had lavished on him.

Still, an uneasy feeling churns in his stomach.

Finally deciding his night isn't going to get any better, he lets out a sigh, pays his tab, and heads home.

His sleep is full of Gaston, eyes filled with murderous rage as he roars at Lefou to ready his horse for the march to the Beast's Castle. But Stanley is there too. His eyes are full of tenderness and sorrow. But he stays silent, head bowed as though to say, sorry, but I can't help you.

Lefou wakes with his breath rushing in and out of his chest. Though he's unable to remember the full details of his nightmare, he has ghosts of emotions with him in the waking world.

He feels scared, and lonely. The loneliness eats at him.

He knows he hasn't realized whatever it is he was supposed to yet, but he still heads for Stanley's house.

Stanley answers after two knocks, and hesitates for only a second before embracing him.

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"I am too," Lefou says, thinking of Gaston, of how he always knew what was expected of him when he was with Gaston. He almost aches for the simplicity.

"No," Stanley says, shaking his head firmly. "It was all my fault. I… it wasn't fair. I shouldn't've just…" He shrugs helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"I think," Lefou says, biting his lip, "maybe I'm… starting to see. But not really."

"Shh," Stanley soothes. "It'll come in time. I was wrong to try to give you an ultimatum. It… It will take time and work."

"I know," Lefou says, looking down. He feels unsteady, like his world has been turned upside-down, and really it has. He shakes his head to try and clear it.

"Come," Stanley says, kissing the top of Lefou's head. "I'll make you some tea."

"I can help," he starts to say, but Stanley just guides him to the sofa and gives his shoulders a gentle shove.

And Lefou still isn't sure of what things with Gaston were supposed to be. But he does know that, as odd as it is, being taken care of by Stanley feels nice. And he thinks that maybe he could get used to being shown the same love he gives.