◣i fought in a war and i left my friends behind me to go looking for the enemy, and it wasn't very long before i would stand with another boy in front of me, and a corpse that just fell into me, with the bullets flying round. ◢ turn and drink of me, or look away, look away, look away and never more think of me ◣ it's the blood that haunts me, i can't fall asleep cause its ruthless, and don't tell me you're ruthless too

◣ day after day, alone on the hill the man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still, but nobody wants to know him. they can see that he's just a fool ◢ why can't you look after yourself and not down on me? do you have to try to piss me off just 'cause i'm easy to please? ◣ i know life would suck without you, at the same time, i wanna hug you, i wanna wrap my hands around your neck. you're an asshole but i love you

◣ well the stairs sound so lonely without you, and i ain't made my bed in a week; coffee stains on the paper i'm writing, and i'm too choked up inside to speak◢ when you said your last goodbye i died a little bit inside. i lay in tears in bed all night alone without you by my side ◣ i'm trying not to move. it's just your ghost passing through. it's just your ghost passing through.

Born to a pair of farmers near the edge of Villeneuve, and the middle child of five, Antoine wasn't especially remarkable. He wasn't the fastest of his siblings, the smartest, or the strongest. That didn't seem to stop him from doing much of anything, though.

The first time he felt more than incidental was when he met Gaston - it marked the first time someone had singled him out. They were children, not even entirely through puberty, and unlike him, Gaston was already shaping up to be something remarkable. He proved that pretty thoroughly when Villeneuve was besieged by a small pack of men and he dispatched them very nearly single-handedly.

His task since then was bolstering Gaston in any way possible, whether by recounting such heroic tales (the number of which only increased once they were both packed off to the war) or simply reminding him that everyone else knew about such heroic tales, and were ready and willing to follow him.

He became LeFou during the war. He may not have been meant for that sort of scene, he was too gentle, too sensitive, although he'd seemed to decide that saving the lives of those he could, maybe to make up for those he'd taken, seemed like as good a purpose as any. He was reckless, a madman in some way, a fool in another. He kept close to Gaston after the war, he just tagged along, encouraged Gaston whenever he could, ignored the morally ambiguous things he did, even when it made his stomach turn. He knew the difference between right and wrong, but he wasn't usually the one making the decisions.