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Lefou had always been afraid of thunder, it was something he just couldn’t seem to stand, even before he had gone off to war. When he came back, it seemed to have become a mimic of sounds he wished he could forget. Every crash reminded him of the sound of the mighty cannons ripping their troops apart, and the rumbles and growls the rattling of the drums.
Of course this didn’t seem to be such a problem when he slept alone, his sleepless nights being only noticed by him, Gaston didn’t really pay attention to anyone but himself as it turned out, and of course when Stanley asked Lefou to move in with him, Lefou jumped at the offer, forgetting completely about his fear, however whenever thunder struck he was all too aware of the sleeping man who rested himself just inches away from him.
On one night, the thunder got particularly bad, with rain almost flooding the village, and rattling the windows like small bullets hitting the glass, each of them with as much force as the last, however Stanley didn’t seem to stir. It was only when a large crash emanated from right above the small cottage was he finally woken from his deep sleep.
Blearily, he wiped his eyes to rid them of the slumber which had just left him, trying to fully gain function of his brain.
He yawned and stretched his arms across the bed, expecting to find a torso, hand or hip blocking him, however when nothing seemed to greet his extending arm, he halted. Wasn’t Lefou living with him? Of course he was, he had been since Noël.
Stanley shook his head gently and yawned once more, pushing himself to turn away from the comfort of his bed in order to investigate the mystery of the missing lover. The wooden floor beneath his feet felt colder than usual, yet he was glad that there was the comforting trickle of rain that would gradually lull him back to sleep when he finally found Lefou.
As he opened the door to the main room, he became aware of a sort of whimpering sound which seemed to carry from the kitchen, almost like a lost child trying to dull their cries.
Curious, Stanley crept past the bookcase and slid between the dining table and the wall, as the steady whimpering grew louder. Just as Stanley was about to enter the kitchen a loose floorboard creaked.
Silence.
A shaky breath from around the corner.
“Hello?” A hoarse voice muttered from just out of sight, a hiccough following suit.
“H-hello? Is, is someone there?” Stanley let out a breath he was holding in, it was Lefou.
Turning the corner with a smile, it was instantly wiped off his face when he saw where Lefou was. Hiding between the meeting of two walls with a blanket covering his shoulders. His eyes were bright red and puffy whilst thick streams of tears fell freely down his face. His bottom lip, as well as his left hand, seemed to be shaking uncontrollably and his right was gripping the blanket in such a desperate way that stanley was surprised that it hadn’t split at the seams already. When their eyes met Lefou’s seemed to widen in panic and he pushed himself further into the small nook, and began whispering under his breath erratically, whilst also avoiding looking stanley in the eyes.
Stanley took a step forwards and saw Lefou visibly pause, holding his breath and tightening his eyes shut, as his body went rigid, as if expecting a blow.
“Mon amour?”
Lefou’s eyes opened gently, yet still faced the blackened window which showed the pair a view of the village centre.
“Mon amour are you ok?” Stanley whispered, trying not to alarm or scare Lefou in any way, afraid that he might go back to muttering under his breath.
Lefou replied with a soft mumble.
“Lefou, are you alright?” Stanley got down onto his knees and sat a short distance away from where Lefou was, just within reach if necessary.
“I’m sorry.” Lefou said, looking down in, was that, shame?
“Why on earth would you be sorry?” Stanley replied, gently inching towards him, as if trying not to startle a deer.
“For waking you.” Stanley paused, stunned,
He had just walked in on Lefou crying in a corner, clearly distressed for one reason or another, and instead of seeking comfort, he apologised for a small inconvenience which he may not have even caused.
“Darling, you didn’t wake me, L'orage did.”
Just in that moment, a brilliant arch of lightning illuminated the sky, twisting and turning through the clouds as if it had a mind of its own. Each tendril extending further and further until finally, the longest of them all reached Père Roberts steeple, and met with the metal on the top, flashing dangerously. Just as it made its way to return to the heavens, a momentous band was heard from above, thundering above the clatter of the heavy racing which hammered against the roof and windows.
In that moment, Stanley felt Lefou tense up next to him.
Turning to look at him, Stanley noticed Lefou’s face had gone sheer white, whilst his eyes held a vacant expression, yes also seemed to move faster than he had ever seen. His breathing had become erratic and his hand had begun shaking again, this time joined by his right. Sweat had formed above his brow and his bottom lip trembled dangerously. The tears which had previously formed a trickle now flowed faster than before, dripping onto Stanley’s hand.
He had never seen anything like this.
Of course he had heard of the wive’s in the village talking about how their husbands didn’t seem right when they returned from the war, how they sometimes got angry outbursts and how they seemed to be unable to focus completely when perhaps a door slammed or a horse whinnied. What had Madame Michelle called it? Triggered.
It slowly dawned on stanley what was happening to Lefou, and panic began to settle in. No-one ever said how they solved this problem or if it could be solved.
Turning back to Lefou he gently pushed his hand under his trembling one, whilst also placing another hand atop it. He gently moved them up his arm, wrist, elbow, shoulder, before both his hands came to rest on Lefou’s frigid cheeks, tear-stained and pinked than usual, and looked into his eyes, before letting out a breath, and humming.
For all Stanley knew, he could have just made it worse, as he began to hum the tune to Au Claire De La Lune and Lefou seemed to hold his breath, for all stanley knew, he could have been trying to block him out by causing himself to faint, however he did know that the trembling of his lip had slowed slightly, and the tears that had flowed so freely seemed to be holding back ever so much. So he continued.
By the time he reached the second verse the hands had stopped trembling, by the time he reached the last chorus Lefou’s breathing had resumed at a normal pace, and by the time he reached the last note, the only sign of any problem was the slight shake he had in his breath, and the pinker than usual cheeks. His head was hanging slightly and his eyes were barely open, only just letting the last tear fall before shutting with finality.
“I’m sorry, it’s usually not this bad.” He whispered, his eyebrows furrowing in anger towards himself.
He felt a sudden warmth on his forehead, as well as a pleasant fanning of air across his face, and as he opened his eyes, he saw a concerned pair peering into his, forehead to forehead.
“Lefou, if you are afraid of thunder, tell me, I can help.”
Lefou have a small chuckle and purses his lips slowly, before letting out a sigh of relief, and letting himself finally relax.
Stanley brought Lefou closer to him, his hand sliding behind his neck, before his lips met Lefou’s and tenderly embraced each other.
The rain may have been silenced to the pair, yet outside it still thundered on, howling and wailing, thrashing and thrusting through opened doors and windows, yet the inside of that cottage remained silent, comfortable and isolated to the world of misery which the elements gave to the world.