I made this blog a little over four years ago, and with my constant coming-and-going habits, I honestly cannot believe that any of you are still here. But I am absolutely grateful for each and every one of you. Writing Khan has been one of my favourite roleplay experiences, and I hope to continue for at least a little while longer.
If you’re not on this list, don’t think it’s because I’m not thinking of you. It’s because I’m flighty as hell and chances are I’ll randomly add you when my brain is working again.
Gafou swimming in the lake ~ I'll let you decide what age they are :)
Lefou dipped his foot in the icy water. He closed his eyes and took in a breath of fresh air on the edge of the rock, swishing his toes back and forth. The last time the had set foot near the lake was before the war.
He and Gaston were just boys, splashing and hollering in the lake for hours on end, filling their cheeks with water and holding contests to see how far they could spit it. Gaston was always winner of that game, but Lefou was the skipping stone champion. Gaston was the master of the dive, and Lefou had a killer cannonball. Summers flew by, and now the both of them were back for the first time in years. Both maturer, both more somber, carrying new burdens that they wished the memories of the lake could wash off of their backs.
“We’re grown men now, Lefou,” Gaston simpered, “you can take your shirt off.”
Lefou plucked his foot from the surface and placed it back on the warm rock he stood upon.
“I know,” he said, still apprehensive to the idea. He had always been too shy to remove his shirt in public. Then again… This wasn’t public. The only witness was his closest friend. However, when he watched that close friend pull off his shirt and toss it around a tree branch, his strapping torso reminded Lefou that his was nowhere near as toned, as well as the fact that he wished the both of them had been more than close friends. He tensed up when Gaston came near him, trying to rip his eyes off of his bare chest.
“Lefou, you’re frozen.”
“It’s the uh, it’s the nostalgia.”
Amused, Gaston exhaled through his nose, then helped Lefou pry his shirt over his head without consulting him. He shuddered when the breeze came in contact with skin, feeling Gaston’s eyes on him. There was no going back now. He braced himself for one of Gaston’s rude comments.
“We should come to the lake more often,” Gaston stated, and Lefou was a bit surprised. “Get you some more exercise.” Yup, there it was. Lefou pursed his lips as he let his hair down. It made Gaston come to a petty realization. “Ugh, my hair! I didn’t think about my hair.”
“I spent hours on it this morning, there’s no way I’m getting it wet.”
Typical. Lefou rolled his eyes, then with a hard shove, sent Gaston plunging into the depths like he deserved. Gaston’s head burst through the surface, his raven locks soiled with lakewater. He spat a mouthful Lefou’s way, nearly hitting him.
“Hey, you’ve still got it!” Lefou snickered, backing himself up to get a running start. “I wonder if I…”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do it––”
Pretending not to hear, Lefou leaped off of the ledge with his arms and legs tucked, hitting the surface; a cannonball with enough force to send another wave over Gaston’s precious hair.
Lefou emerged with his hands in the air. It was his best one yet.
“I’ll get you for that!” Gaston shouted, swimming towards him.
“Oh yeah?” Lefou splashed to escape, laughing and enjoying the cool waves and company in the summer heat. For a few hours, they were boys again, the burden of war sunken deep beneath the waves of good old times.