Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Louis was sitting on the sofa of his new LA apartment, tapping his foot nervously. No, decisively not nervously - expectantly… a little impatiently maybe. 

Lestat was coming to visit. 

Well, technically it was Louis who was visiting Lestat, as he still had his flat in Dubai where he still lived. He wasn’t moving here or anything. It was only that he hated hotels and would need to visit LA frequently. Daniel was here and he still felt a little responsible for his current condition and future safety. Of course, Daniel was in LA to interview Lestat for his new book, a biography, The Vampire Lestat. And Lestat was in the city because he was famous now, apparently, and busy with whatever rockstars did these days.

But not too busy to drop by, for a moment.

Since their last meeting, they had no opportunity to really see each other. Lestat had to leave for his tour and Louis didn’t attempt to stop him, wasn’t ready to face the reason why he would even want to. Also, he needed time to process the intensity of their meeting. It didn’t hurt any less to let him go than any other time in the past. Louis expected at least that to be different, he used to find solace in convincing himself that he overexaggerated the presence of Lestat in his mind. But…he truly was intoxicating . One embrace, one breath full of his scent and he relapsed, felt himself being pulled back into the gravitational field of everything Lestat . It was the whole reason why he had to leave before he got high on his love again. 

Love makes you stupid!

Louis knew that was true. After he left, he kept his distance. It wasn’t hard with Lestat on tour; different week, different city, different lovers no doubt . It wasn’t hard logistically. But Lestat was only gone physically. He once again began haunting Louis, this time not just in his deluded mind but through a different medium as well. Texts. Never calls. It felt like they were talking daily and somehow not saying anything at all. Lestat usually sent short messages without need for reply, sometimes photos from his tour, rarely videos (if he was lucky). Louis replied to half of them, censoring his words often, keeping Lestat at arm’s length but keeping him nonetheless - always toeing the line. And yet, Louis’ soul felt more nourished from these short exchanges he shared over a distance with Lestat, than from 77 years of Armand’s whispered soliloquies.

What did that say about him? Why does he starve without a man he had tried to kill? Why is he starving still? He had allowed himself crumbs of Lestat to satiate the hunger, not to turn it into famine. It felt like Lestat was a carrot, cruelly being dangled in front of his emaciated heart, except it was Louis holding the stick, depriving himself of the taste.

And after those videos? God, he wanted to taste .

Can he be judged for not being able to stand it any longer? When Lestat returned from tour, he knew he had to see him. Perhaps, Daniel was an excuse. But he bought the flat nevertheless and invited Lestat ‘for a quick talk’ and Lestat was visiting. 

There was a knock at the door.

Louis opened the door faster than he intended but he didn’t possess enough self-control to pretend he could wait. After all the photos he sent and the many he googled, he couldn’t wait to see the man in person.

Lestat was a vision, which came to no surprise, but even more so than usual when dressed in a tight black shimmering top and low-rise dark jeans, both of which left enough space to reveal his entire mid-section. A bridge Louis would love to cross with his tongue.

“Louis,” Lestat’s voice low, silky, ”how have you been?”

Louis’ eyes finally found Lestat’s face. Perhaps, he wasn’t only mesmerised by his body, but also avoiding his eyes. Longing and anxiety were twisting his gut in equal measure. Nevertheless, the tightness released slightly at the sight. The first thing he saw was the ocean blue, then eyeliner accentuating his eyes. Still, Louis couldn’t help but laugh a little at the glitter all over his cheeks.

“Fresh from a concert?” Louis asked, just to avoid answering the question.

He stepped aside to let his… guest in. 

“You like?” he almost purred. After the resulting silence, Lestat pursed his lips and came in. “I was shooting a music video for a new single when you called.”

“You should’ve told me you were too busy to meet.” Louis replied, closing the door and following him to the living room. 

Lestat paused and turned around. There was a softness in his gaze, the one that made Louis melt before , made him forget why he was angry or what question he had asked that Lestat refused to answer. There was a reason why Louis could doubt being enough but never being loved, and it was hidden in those eyes. 

“I could never be too busy to meet you, Louis” he said it like a fact, like it wouldn’t ruin Louis and keep him awake all day.

“I promise it won’t take long”

Lestat smiled widely but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“You needn’t worry, the shooting part is done. I should show you the whole thing when it’s finished, though. The song is about you after all” 

“About me?” Louis knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop.

He always did have beautiful eyes, enthralling even. 

“Why, of course, mon cher . They are all about you after all.”

Louis felt a pang in his chest that broke through the spell he was under.

“Don’t call me that,” He said, reflexively.

He kept falling into the same trap. A look, a smile, a hint of what could be and he was falling. Falling from heights only Lestat could take him to. He couldn’t keep making the same mistake. This time had to be different.

Lestat’s lips twitched. Something shifted behind his gaze and he shook his head after a moment.

“Right.” He clapped his hands and fell gracefully onto the sofa. “ Ma muse then! Why did you invite me, hm? Not that I’m complaining, I’m always grateful for chance to keep you company”

Louis ignored the last part, ignoring even harder the way his heart reacted to hearing it. Instead he turned around.

“Wait here.”

He left for a moment to retrieve the carefully wrapped bundle he was looking for. When he returned, Lestat was still laying spread-out ( seductively ) on the sofa, the curve of his hips on full display. Only now, in bright light, did he notice some glitter on his stomach, skillfully applied in the shape of a V, pointing down towards…

Love makes you stupid!

Louis shook his head.

“I have something for you”

“For me?” Lestat sat up, visibly excited. “A gift?” 

Louis grimaced. “More like…an inheritance.” Lestat’s smile disappeared and his impossibly blue eyes focused on the small bundle he was holding. Louis placed it carefully on the glass coffee table in front of Lestat. It was wrapped in protective cloth but had the unmistakable shape of a book.The silence stretched as Louis tried to find the words. “It’s her first diary. I have all of them, but this one I used to re-read the most. I think you deserve to read it too.”

The shift in mood was sudden, but Louis was prepared. Lestat had always been like a hurricane or a storm at sea.

“Deserve?” He spat out, his eyes narrowed but focused on the diary, as if it could disappear in the time it took him to blink.

“ Deserve might be a bad word. Should .”

“No, I should not !” he exploded. “I don’t understand why you are going against her wishes. If she knew I even had it, if she saw me touch it, she would claw my eyes out — ”

“But she can’t! Because she’s dead!” Lestat fell silent, eyes on the bundle again, his body rigid but shaking. “These,” Louis pointed at the diary. “are the last words she will ever speak. All she wanted from us was to listen to her, to understand her. We can’t change the past, Lestat, but after — after everything, I decided to be what I couldn’t when she was alive. The least she deserves is to be heard and remembered, exactly as she was.” 

Louis was shaking too. Looking at the other man, he saw his own emotions reflected; regret and grief flowing between them, like blood coursing in the same body. How could he let Lestat go when he was the only one who could really understand ? It felt hopeless. He felt hopeless. He lost himself with Lestat and lost his mind without him. Hence, this attempt. He had to try, pry himself and Lestat open, unveil all secrets, so maybe they could start over. They couldn’t be what they were, and Louis didn’t know what else they could be, but they had to exist. Louis could no longer stand pretending that he could live in a world without Lestat. He was a companion enough for himself, yes, except… he longed for more than enough.

But where does that leave them? Reading their dead daughter’s diaries, reopening old wounds, hoping that this time they heal properly? 

“I can’t force you to read it, but you should. You have just as much right to them as I had,” he paused when Lestat let out a bitter laugh. “It wasn’t just bad times, you know?” At that, Lestat looked up at him, briefly, then away. His eyes were red and held so much intensity but the rest of his face was carefully blank. “She wrote good things too. Things got so bad in the end, I forgot there was a time she was happy with us.”  

When we were happy , his mind added but he refrained from saying it out loud. The happiest I’ve ever been.

Lestat continued looking at the diary with such intensity that Louis almost believed he could hear all of its contents inside his head, Claudia whispering it from the pages. Silence stretched between them, becoming heavy with all that remained unspoken but eventually Lestat held out his hand. He gingerly took the bundle with one, held it, while the other started lightly caressing the cover over the material.

“I used to resent not being able to read her thoughts.” Lestat whispered, a barely audible crack in the quality of his voice, “I was jealous of her, I can now admit that. You two could speak a language I could never learn, shared a connection I could never join. I thought she was keeping you from me, that she was the reason for our misery, a thorn constantly in my side… And, after all this time, I can finally read her thoughts while she is no more. But I’m not any happier for it. My side still aches with her gone. Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, a red drop fell from his eye, staining the material. “On the other hand, maybe she would be happy with me reading it? Considering how much pain it will cause me? Mon petit sadique, ” The last part he said with so much affection, Louis’ heart opened, just a crack, before he could do anything to stop it.

Louis thought of Claudia, her rage, her hurt, her love, her cruelty…How terribly similar she was to Lestat and how much she craved greatness, just like Lestat. His vision blurred and he grabbed a chair, just to stop from reaching out.

“Claudia would be happy to know that she is remembered. And if the memory causes you some stress, that’d be a bonus.”

Lestat laughed at that, tightening his hold on the diary. He caressed it once more, swallowed and released a breath with some finality. He stood up, his eyes looking everywhere but at Louis.

“Is that all?”

Louis was surprised to hear that question, even if he shouldn’t be. Was that all? He supposed it was. The diary was the only reason he invited Lestat. The only reason they had to meet. It should be all. But Louis couldn’t say the words. Was that all ? Was that all for them? Lestat turned to look at him again, then kept looking, clutching the diary. His eyes were calling to Louis, whether it was intentional or not. Was that all for Louis? Was it all that he could have now; a couple words, silences where he seeks Lestat’s gaze, hoping he would look at him again, almost regretting it when he does? Or was that all when they barely talked at all, when Louis pretended a few scattered messages were enough to sustain him?

Love makes you stupid! And needy, weak, fragile. Louis just got his power back, finally able to stand on his own. But who could withstand a hurricane and not be swept away? Was that all he could hope for - protecting himself against the storm, wishing it would take him anyway. Knowing how much it hurts to fall.

 There was a sad note to Lestat’s gaze, a hint of hope for an unspoken wish to be fulfilled. Louis didn’t know exactly what it was but he could guess a couple of things - all that he longed for, none which he was ready to give. Louis remained balancing on the tight-rope of his own making. A thin line between Lestat being gone and Lestat in his arms. A compromise at arm’s length. Can’t tell him to go. Can’t ask him to stay. Can’t look away.

Was that all? Yes, he had nothing else to offer. No, even if that was all, it would never be enough.

Louis said nothing.

Nevertheless, Lestat nodded sharply as if understanding things even Louis didn’t know, for he couldn’t understand it himself. He was still not looking at Louis, which seemed equally as purposeful as looking right at him would be. It always seemed easier for Lestat to look away, even when Louis was unable. Louis shouldn’t feel bitter about it but he couldn't help himself. He rarely could help himself with Lestat. 

“I won’t keep you any longer. I have a party to get back to, anyway.” Lestat shrugged in a too casual manner.

Another familiar feeling joined the already too-confusing mix of emotions - jealousy.

“I thought you were shooting a music video,” Louis said coldly, already moving towards the door.

A party , Louis was seething. He was giving his ex-husband the diary of their long dead daughter and he was going to a party? Dressed like that? Barely dressed like that? Well, he was surely allowed to. For once, this time, they weren’t together when he was hunting his newest conquest. Louis had nothing to be angry about. Nothing to grit his teeth over. Louis had nothing.

“I was! And now I have to promote it. I work, sleep or network. What can I say? I am what they call a hot commodity .” 

“I’m sure you are,” 

He opened the door with more force than he should have. He already knew he would be seething all night. Anger was much easier than anything else he was feeling.

Lestat hesitated. He still wasn’t looking at Louis but he wasn’t leaving. Louis was still looking at Lestat… but he was focused on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed. 

“Since you are in the city, if you are able and willing, perhaps, we could see each other again? Before you go back.”

“I thought you are busy promoting,” Louis couldn’t keep the snark from his voice. 

Finally, Lestat looked at him and Louis forgot why he was angry. Lestat was serious, none of his usual flair. His eyes were sad but, finally, focused only on him.

“I meant what I said, Louis,” his voice was low but strong, “I could never be too busy to see you.” Lestat waited for a moment, his eyes roaming Louis’ face, as if he wasn’t sure when the next opportunity would arrive. The man paused at his lips, something restrained in his gaze, before he smiled. “Goodbye, mon— Louis.”

With that, he left. 

And Louis didn’t know how to deal with Lestat who left first.

Chapter Text

“You seem quiet today.”

Lestat was sitting in the centre of a small room. A small two-person coach, opposite an armchair, a desk with a chair in the back, bookcases lining the back wall. A window to his left, with thick blinds closed. A door to his right with a small waiting room outside. Warm light filling the room from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was big, too ornate for the small, professional office, sticking out horribly. Why was there a chandelier still? He did tell Orna it was an offence to good taste. 

“I saw Louis tonight,” he revealed, eyes fixed on the chandelier. He could see specs of dust near the bulbs.

“Your previous love, Louis?” Orna’s voice was calm, soothing.

“The very same,” Little spots of shadow started clouding his vision from staring directly into the light. “There is no previous about it. He was as lovely as ever.”

He heard the sound of pen hitting paper.

“How did it go?”

“He gave me a gift… or a curse, depending on how he meant it. It makes no difference, a curse is a gift when received from Louis .”

“What was it?”

“Claudia’s diary. First edition, I should feel blessed.”

“ Do you feel blessed?”

The light was hurting his eyes but he kept looking. One of the glass droplets surrounding a bulb was chipped. 

“I feel… blessed to have seen him. And all the rest, I deserve .”

Calculated silence.

“I would like to know what you felt either way. Deserved or not.”

When he turned his gaze to Orna, he could barely see her through the dark spots in his vision. He wondered if that was how Claudia saw him, then, at the stage.

“I felt guilt for Claudia, anger, sorrow… more guilt for mostly just being happy to see him. All useless.”

“Why do you think it was useless?”

 “I angered him again and I don’t even know why . I tried to be civil. I bit my tongue.” So hard he could taste blood. He couldn’t express his love, couldn’t even call him mon cher . Couldn’t tell him that in all of his life, undead or living, he was the happiest during the early days of their family. That all of his life paled in comparison to any moment next to Louis. That he was happy it was Louis who slit his throat. That he should’ve burned him too. Because, then, maybe Claudia…

The blurriness worsened and Orna sighed. 

“You seem very focused on his feelings, at the detriment of your own.”

He blinked away the emotion. She finally came into view, blurriness replaced with detail. Her face was professional but worried. Distant enough that he felt no panic, focused enough that he felt no neglect. Lestat reluctantly admitted that she was good at her job.

“If one is focused on a route of the fire, is it to one’s detriment or survival?”

“Are you scared to be burned?” She paused before continuing. “Or are you scared to be left behind in the ashes?”

“If I am burned, I will be happy to become kindling for his fire. If the other…well, I can only have myself to blame.”

“Are those the only alternatives?”

Lestat shrugged but remained silent. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been in all of his existence. Who knew that there were things worse than torture and heartbreak - that it was the knowledge of nothingness that awaited. The realisation that there was no more hope to be had, but hoping nevertheless. The sickening fact that Armand was right, that Magnus wasn’t lying, that there was nothing to endure for. But he had things to do, there was use for him still and so he endured. Louis only made it harder, making him imagine all the things that would not be. 

Oh, but he couldn’t help but be grateful. Lately, his imagination started to be lacking. He began forgetting the exact timbre of his voice, the particular way his eyes hardened in anger, the unpredictable way in which he surprised him. He was grateful to be reminded. 

“Forgive me for abandoning the metaphor,” Orna continued, “but the last time you saw him was almost half a year ago, yes?”

Lestat made a thoughtful noise. “Give or take,” Take. He knew exactly when they last met. He cut his tour short after all.

“You didn’t want to talk about it but you did say it was… intense, then”

“Like seeing the sunrise on your last day on Earth,” he said, dreamily.

“What about now?” Orna prodded and Lestat frowned in response. He couldn’t understand the point of the question. “This time you chose to go your separate ways. You spent less time alone and texted him in the meantime. There is no secret or person keeping you forcefully apart. Was it any less intense?”

Lestat laughed bitterly. “If the execution is delayed by a day, is the sunrise less beautiful?”

“You can’t expose yourself to the sunlight.”

“We all wish for things we can’t have.”

“And why do you say you can’t?”

Lestat shifted in his seat.

“I suppose I can. I could go into the sunlight if I was willing to burn.”

“What stops you from going to Louis? Are you scared of hurting?”

Lestat focused on the blinds, thick enough to block any hint of light, yet Lestat could feel in his bones that sunrise was approaching.

“It used to be the reason for many of my sins. If it was my only fear, I would run to him and beg for scraps of his attention like a starving dog.” Orna kept her silence, waiting patiently for his next words. A long pause, then, “She was burned to ashes because of me. But I made sure to kill her long before that… I suppose I gained some perspective. I cannot have him. I refuse to destroy him. It is what it is. This, too, I can endure.”

Orna stayed silent for a long time, like she often did. Sometimes, he resented the space she gave him, the space to sit with himself and his own thoughts, before she told him the hardest truths. She frequently left him to argue with himself.

“Did Louis tell you to leave him alone?”

He focused on his rings, twisting them around his fingers.

“He didn’t want me to stay, I could feel it,”

“Are those the only alternatives?” She repeated the question. “If he wanted to keep in touch, without romantic connotations, as old friends perhaps, what would you say?”

Lestat felt unqualified to answer. He would never reject anything Louis was willing to offer. But he couldn’t imagine being close and not touching. How could he withstand the pull of his body, ignore the call of Louis’ eyes, lips, blinding soul ? With Louis, he was weak. Could he endure Louis loving another, smiling at another, talking about another in front of him? Could he stand watching Louis be happy with someone else?

Ah.

Happiness. Wasn’t that the whole point of this useless endeavour. Lestat sitting here, talking about his feelings, whining about his hurts, learning how not to be an obstacle in Louis’ happiness when he long abandoned hope of his own. But to watch Louis’ happiness with another would be its own version of hell.

I am a companion enough for myself. Louis had said it, but how long would that hold true? Lestat knew first hand what prolonged loneliness felt like and he could never wish it on Louis. But there was no other route. One day he would either find a love or his undoing in a pyre. All of their kind did, all of them would. 

For the briefest of seconds, Lestat imagined Louis throwing himself into the flames, desperation and madness equal in his eyes. Like Nicky. There was a desperate howling animal in Lestat’s chest clawing to get out.

Orna continued. “You said it yourself that you had a great capacity for enduring. However, there is a point where one should stop doing something that isn’t working. You and Louis were always either in a relationship or not speaking at all. For every beginning, there has to be an end. If you keep clinging to the past or fearing the future, you’ll never be able to create anything in the present.”

“So I should just…what, live and let live? Forgive and forget what we had? Like it never happened?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded hysterical.

Orna sat back with a sympathetic look in her eye.

“I don’t know the future, Lestat. Perhaps, the divide will turn out to be too great. Maybe the time apart will bring you closer. But, Lestat, there can be nothing new if you don’t give it space to grow .”

His eyes were blurring again. He was too tired for this. He looked up again, trying to avoid eye-contact.

A beat. Then two.

“Your chandelier is hideous,” he deadpanned, half petty, half genuine, fully deflecting.

Orna laughed, looking up.

“Yes, you’ve told me already. If it makes you feel better, it suited the office better before”

“It’s also damaged,” he pointed. “There. See? Chipped. And dusty .” He added with disgust.

She visibly strained her eyes but it was obvious she couldn’t see the flaws in question from her position.

“The damage must have happened during renovations. The dust, well, it doesn’t seem practical to hire someone just to clean it and it is hard for me to reach. I can’t fly, you know.”

“Why keep it, then?”

“My mother gave it to me. It’s funny, I didn’t like it at all but it did suit the office back then. And after her death… I suppose looking at it was comforting. Made me feel closer to her.” She paused, squinting at the chandelier again. “It is hideous, though.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “Ah, Orna, the things we endure for love.”

He really had no place to judge.

Chapter Text

LOUIS

Louis wanted to see Lestat. He really really did, but every time he opened his phone to text him, he froze. What reason did he have to meet? What would he write? Should he mention that he was missing the blue of his eyes? 

Oh, Lestat would love that. His vanity would love that. He would preen under the praise. He would smile and roll his shoulders, feeling victorious. He would look at Louis like he won a prize. Oddly, it was part of the reason why he withheld his love so much. Spurning Lestat was the only weapon he had. Being fully his but giving only parts of himself — that was the only way he was winning, when Lestat was losing. Oh, but Lestat always accepted the challenge, fighting for it more, which made Louis share less. 

After so much time, it felt impossible to be the one reaching out.

<>

Louis stood in the lobby of Lestat’s luxury apartment building debating whether he should announce himself or try to climb to his balcony. He decided to try the door first.

He walked up to the desk.

“I’m here to visit Lestat de Lioncourt.”

The concierge looked up. “And you are?”

“Louis du Point du Lac.” The concierge looked down at his computer and typed something quickly. “You should call him, I’m sure he’ll agree to see me.” 

“No need, Mr. du Lac. You are on the list of welcomed guests. The elevator is down the hall.”

Louis didn’t know how he should react to the fact that Lestat had prepared for his visit but he tried not to show his surprise. He tried to shake off the feeling of walking into a trap. He felt himself falling back into Lestat’s orbit, the familiar push and pull of their bond making him anxious and unsure. He struggled not to repeat the same mistakes but the distance only made him feel like a stretched out rubber band — strained and ready to snap. When he arrived at the correct floor, he immediately started hearing raised voices, which diverted his attention from his doubts.

“I am growing tired of this conversation,” the unmistakenable timbre of Lestat’s voice was dripping with venom. Louis remembered that tone well, he used to hate when it was used on him. Domineering and tolerating no objection. A veiled threat.

“Lestat, this is getting out of hand. You missed a rehearsal, again, and I find you, naked, passed out—”

“How I choose to spend my time is none of your business!” he was truly yelling now. Even without vampire hearing, Louis would be able to hear Lestat clearly.

“—blood everywhere —”

“Like you’ve never fallen asleep while eating!”

“As your manager and your friend—”

Lestat’s answering laugh was hysterical. “Friend?” he asked, incredulously. “ Tu es fou! We are not friends!”

“—it is getting to a point where we might have to send you to rehab.”

“ Send me?! And how do you presume to do that? Who will help you? I would love to see you try,” 

Louis finally reached the door which was slightly ajar and opened it fully. In front of him was a big open space with minimal furniture. His eyes briefly focused on the piano situated next to the window, with a violin on a stand nearby. There was a large pool of blood next to some broken glass and bloody foodstep all around on the hard-wood floor. The fluffy white carpet perfectly resembled a  very recently slaughtered sheep.

Lestat was in the middle of the room, half-turned away from Louis, anger staining his features. His hair was disheveled and he was only wearing red skin-tight trousers. His chest, neck and mouth were stained with dried blood. The art critic in Louis couldn’t help but notice how wonderfully it contrasted the cold blue of his eyes.

“I—” The manager’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Lestat. I don’t mean to make you mad. We are all just really worried—”

He heard Lestat’s breath hitch as he turned his head suddenly. His eyes instantly found Louis, like he knew exactly where to look but they still widened.

“Louis.” he whispered.

His manager turned too, confused no doubt. Louis didn’t know, didn’t check, as his eyes still focused Lestat’s and only strayed to flicker to his mouth which was starting to form a smile.

“ That’s Louis? The Great Saint Louis?”

Hearing that, Louis finally moved his gaze to the man. He looked shocked, his small eyes widened impossibly and drifting up and down his body, clearly not finding what he was looking for. He knew he was dressed casually in his black tracksuit but…Louis tried not to feel offended.

“Get out.” Lestat sounded happy as he waved away his manager, eyes still trailing Louis. 

“We really need to talk about tomorrow, Lestat, they really aren't happy about your last stunt—” he huffed when he realised he was being completely ignored,” Fine. Fine! Dinner will be delivered soon, so at least eat it. You need to eat someone sober for once.”

Lestat didn’t acknowledge him, only made a dismissing motion with his hand. 

The man stared at Lestat disbelievingly for a few seconds before turning away in annoyance. When he was passing Louis on his way to the door, their eyes locked.

I thought he’d be prettier.

Louis made a face at the sheer audacity of the man’s thoughts. He looked older than Louis, and out of shape. A smoker — judging from his skin and teeth. Louis wasn’t vain, but he wasn’t blind . And now he really was offended. 

“What brings you to me, Louis?” Lestat asked in a voice that demanded attention.

When Louis turned to look, the man was still gazing at him. Only now did Louis notice that there was a certain unfocused quality to his eyes. They were a little glazed over and not entirely present.

“Are you high?” he asked, squinting his eyes and moving closer.

Lestat rolled his in response.

“Not you too, Louis. Ne t'inquiète pas!” He threw up his hands, “I am almost not. And even if it were otherwise, dinner is coming, I will be regrettably sober in no time.”

“What happened here?” What happened to you — remained unspoken. Now that Louis was closer, he could see the pink trails across his face and chest. New scars? They still haven't faded. Louis didn't know exactly how long it took him to heal nawadays but they couldn't be more than a few days old at most. He briefly forgot himself and raised his hand to touch but managed to stop half-way. 

Lestat watched the movement and when it stopped, he stepped forward before Louis could (convince himself to) pull his hand away. His skin was warm, sticky with blood but smooth as ever. He often wondered why Lestat was absolutely hairless, not even a bit of fuzz anywhere safe for his head. Did he know about his turning beforehand and shaved his entire body? Lestat claimed he had no choice in the matter but it wouldn’t be the first lie he had told Louis. Whatever the reason, it sure fit right in with his current aesthetic, saving him a lot of time no doubt.

Louis moved his hand and eyes following the pink line slicing his chest. Lestat muscles flexed under his touch in response. Louis could feel the man’s heart, beating under his fingertips like a bird caught in a net mid-flight and knew his own responded in kind.

You spend an hour alone with him and you’re breathing in sync together.

It took a lot less time for their hearts to do the same. A single touch was enough, most times.

“A territorial dispute,” Lestat murmured, stepping closer still, pressing into his hand, his heart seemingly fighting to break away from his ribcage to meet Louis’ fingers. “You know how possessive I get.”

Louis looked up. He hadn’t even noticed how close they got.

“Another vampire did that to you?” he could hear his own anger…and fear.

Lestat let out a delighted laugh. 

“Do you care?” he prodded, his eyes dancing.

Louis felt his irritation rising.

“They tried to kill you and you think it’s funny?”

“ Un peu . I mean, you have to admit, your worry is a little ironic.” he giggled. Giggled. It seemed he was even less predictable when on a bender. Who would have thunk.

Louis clenched his jaw. Fear and guilt started looking a lot like pure anger right about now. Lestat always knew how to rile him up. It was always mountains and valleys between them.

He pushed the man away harshly.

“Somebody tried to claw your heart out and it is still just another game to you. Get drunk, get high, piss off some vampires, live like there’s no tomorrow cause there might not be!”

“Cheri, they cannot steal what I don’t own, you needn’t worry.”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” he snapped, before he could think.

“You said not to call you mon cher —” Louis turned to step away, but before he could Lestat grabbed him by the shoulders. A frantic smile contorted his face as he kept Louis in place. “I am sorry, Louis. I was just teasing you. Old habit I must shake. Can you blame me, though? For wanting to get your attention?” he laughed suddenly, in this unnerving manner of his. “I guess you always can. Feel free!” He slapped Louis’ shoulders. “I am an accommodating host. If you stay, I can be a perfect target for your spite.” 

Louis felt a mix of too many emotions to untangle them all but his breathing was heavy and Lestat was close. He felt unbalanced, confused, and indicisive. Both the push to protect Lestat from others and the pull of making Lestat bleed himself clouded his mind, both urges strong enough to counterbalance and keep Louis rooted in place.

There was a ring at the door. Lestat jerked at the sound, looking nervously at the source but still seeming excited.

“But first, let us celebrate!” Lestat all but ran to open the door.

“Celebrate?” 

“As you can see, I am whole and unharmed while my attacker is no more. And most of all, you are here to witness me victorious. It is a delightful night.”

A man in his thirties walked through the door, followed by a group of 2 young men and 3 women, all dressed in tight or sheer clothes. They all, except for the one man, looked excited enough to jump out of their skin at the sight of Lestat but remained silent, save for some giggles.

“Young, pretty and sober.” the man recited. “You didn’t want any vegetarians but she,” he pointed to a nervously smiling woman, “agreed to eat a steak before coming. I know you like the devoted ones so I thought I’d give her a shot. There’s one more just in case.”

“Thank you, Kurt. I’ll keep her for now, you may go.” Kurt left and the girl released a sigh of relief which Louis could barely hear over the blood rushing in his ears. “Louis!” Lestat turned to him again with a bright smile, “Care for un petit coup ? Please, let’s share one drink and you can go.”

Un petit coup ? In his minds eye, he saw a quick flash of that fateful night when they first…shared a small drink. Louis, then, a living chalice begging to be emptied and Lestat… cruel, impulsive Lestat delicately sucking his throat, careful in only taking a sip that wouldn’t hurt him. It was one of the most important formative experiences he had had with anyone, dead or alive, the first time they— And now Lestat offered Louis to watch as he shared it with some random groupies. The last time Louis felt that kind of anger, Antoinette’s voice was singing about Lestat’s love for him.

“I’ve only been eating pineapples for the last two days!” One of the men revealed, stepping forward eagerly . Louis shifted his eyes towards him instantly. No doubt the murderous intent was clearly showing on his face. “Not that it matters…” he added meekly, withering under Louis’ glare.

“Now, now, don’t scare our dinner companions.” Lestat chastised him. “Boys, girls, go clean yourself up before we eat. The bathroom is over there. I hate the bitterness of perfume so be thorough.”

“Young and pretty, huh?” Louis spat out as the group was running past him.

“Every chef will tell you that food tastes better when it’s served beautifully.”

“So you drink from your groupies .” 

“They are called stans now, Louis, get with the times,” He put his hands on his hips, like a mother scolding an unruly child . “Besides, you were the one forever disgusted with my proclivities. You should be glad. Now, I only drink from the willing.”

“Oooh, I bet they are willing! Pineapple for two days, was it? Tell him to try grapefruit, I always liked it better when Armand made the effort.”

“I don’t know what the problem is, Louis!” He was yelling this time and Louis couldn't even pretend he didn't feel some sick satisfaction for causing it. “I thought you’d be happier about this! Compliment my resolve even!”

Louis started clapping, his entire body soaked with sarcasm.

“Well done, Lestat! What a splendid job you did, using your influence to have a different excited body every night! You're so smart, Lestat! Killing three birds with one stone — satiating your stomach, dick and ego, all at the same time. Such a good boy, Lestat! Now, stop pretending that you’re doing this out of the goodness of your cold dead heart.”

“You would know about coldness, Louis. So what if I like the attention? So what if I am starving for it! What of it!” 

“Oh, right, I forgot just how much of an attention whore you can be!”

“Va te faire foutre! At least now this whore is finally getting some of it, any of it!" Lestat’s eyes were absolutely wild with anger, his voice rising higher with every word.

Louis laughed bitterly. “I think we both know you never had any issue going out and getting some.”

“What was there awaiting me at home, Louis?” Lestat wailed, “I'll tell you! Your complete and abject apathy intermitted with lamentations about me driving away your beloved daughter! Your only reason to live, as you kept reminding me, if you even deigned to speak! It didn’t make a difference for you whether I lived or died, so why did it matter whom I fucked!”

“Then why not leave me, huh? If you had enough of me and our life, why not leave! Why’d you have to drag it out and go behind my back!” He stalked towards Lestat.

“I am not you, Louis!” Lestat looked dangerous, with his teeth bared and a snarl on his lips. Louis couldn’t look away, couldn’t move away — he could only allow himself to be crowded with his presence as Lestat grabbed him by the shirt and pulling him closer. “I do not possess the ability to leave you so easily.”

“You think it was easy?” Louis pushed back against Lestat, their feet moving, their noses touching. “You think Claudia made it easy ? You think she wouldn’t have burned you and scattered the ashes? You think it didn’t hurt to cut you out of my life and leave you there, bleeding? If the wound you left behind had healed, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here now, uselessly hoping you've changed!”

Only a breath separated them and Louis needed. He craved and denied himself too long to think rationally. Somewhere something was telling him that he would regret it as soon as he crossed the line… but Lestat wasn’t at arms length anymore, wasn’t even a breath away. Lestat was still holding Louis by his shirt but he was pressed against the wall with Louis blocking his escape. From his position, Louis could smell the other’s scent: blood, alkohol, perfume, sweat and, behind it all, something else uniquely Lestat that he wanted to press his face against and inhale. Could a vampire get high from just smelling intoxicated blood? He didn’t think so and yet he felt lightheaded, slowly inching closer, forgetting about all of his methods of self-preservation.

“It does appear to be futile to try and stay apart,” Lestat whispered into their joined space, releasing his hold.

“Les, I can’t—” Louis couldn’t even finish the rejection, his throat closing itself. “It hurts too much—”

“No, I know.” His hand flattened the wrinkles left behind on Louis’ shirt. “Regardless of what you think, hurting you is the last thing I would want. Maybe a compromise?”

“Suprised you know the word.”

“You will find I continue to be full of surprises.” Lestat rested the back of his head against the wall, his eyes looking up at the ceiling, focusing on something far way. On the other hand, Louis zeroed in on the exposed throat presented right in front of him. His own hypocrisy was not lost on him. Lestat continued, “A friendship, perhaps.”

“You want to be friends?” Louis couldn’t help but be incredulous. 

“We never tried that one before, not truly.”

And for a very good reason. It was hard to be friends while daydreaming about the other man’s dick in your throat. Even before, back when Louis couldn’t comprehend what Lestat was, he had enough sense to realise they weren’t friends. Lestat never tried to hide his lust or wandering eyes and Louis desired too strongly to hide it successfully. No, it wasn't friendship. It was a hunt and Louis was a pray, who liked tempting fate (and Lestat).

“We could…try.” he replied, hesitantly stepping away. Lestat's words felt like a bucket of cold water.

“Then it is settled. We are friends.”

“No benefits.” he added quickly. He was well aware that one touch was all it would take for his resolve to crumble and he sensed a trap.

Lestat laughed wildly again, his whole body shaking. “That would be for the best. Although, I’m not sure how you will manage. I am difficult to resist.” He pursed his lips innocently under Louis' glare. “Friends can tease, non?”

Lestat seemed to take to this idea like fish to water while Louis continued to be shell-shocked just from agreeing. He almost felt like he had an out-of-body experience. It was always mountains and valleys between them but being friends wasn’t just some new terrain — it was a whole different planet.

The myriad of implications was just starting to dawn on him.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Lestat continued, seemingly unbothered.

“No, no, it’s late and I have somewhere to be.”

“Next time, then.” Lestat's smile looked guarded but sincere and Louis didn't know what to do with that.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll—ah, I’ll text you, when I’m free. Soon?” he felt unbalanced, wrong-footed.

“ Oui . Let’s see each other soon, mon ami .” 

In the elevator, Louis tried not to wonder why the new endearment hurt to hear more than the old.

LESTAT

“Not being physical with Louis was difficult for you?”

“It goes against our nature. Against my instinct and better judgement.”

“What did those tell you?”

“ Louis misses it. I could see that in his eyes, I could feel them on me, so full of desire,” he sighed. “the way he paid special attention to any exposed skin… The way he moved around me… How could I describe it? It was just like those nights in New Orleans, when he had still been a human and denying himself the most delicious of carnal pleasures. His body called to me, begged me to touch … I must imagine his mind now is much the same as it was when I could still read it. And the things he had imagined then… It takes everything in me not to run to him and kneel at his feet in worship.”

“Sounds…titilating.” She did not sound titillated, Lestat noted. She was mostly thoughtful, “What would have happened after, if you had caved?”

“The same that always did, most likely. We would fuck, then fight, then fuck about it while fighting. Or fight about it while fucking. We would find time for both.”

“And then?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Eventually, he would leave. Hopefully, leaving me enough new memories to last me another century. ”

“You wouldn’t try to stop him?”

“ Non ,” his resignation was clear. “What would be the point? It wouldn’t work anyway. I already realised the thing which I want the most simply cannot be taken by force.”

“So it is not the same as always.”

“I suppose. There is something to be said about this new brand of torture. I can look but not touch. He is like the artwork he is so fond of.”

“Would it be easier if he left?”

The scathing look he sent her could kill the undead. Simpler maybe, never easier. Orna only raised her eyebrows.

“I could never want him to leave.”

“Do you plan on making him stay?”

“I wouldn’t force him again—”

“But you can be persuasive.”

Lestat looked away, realising her angle. He knew Louis still desired him. Even at their worst, even when Louis no longer wanted him, he still desired his body. Even when he hated Lestat the most, he couldn’t help but touch. Maybe Lestat was manipulative but how could he be blamed for pouring oil onto that fire? If Lestat couldn’t have love, he would settle for lust. Anything from Louis. Would he try to seduce him again? Entice him against his conviction, hoping the spell would last?

“It had worked before.”

“Had it? He still left after.” she paused, letting the words ring in his ears. “Did it work on other people?”

He let out a surprised laugh, sharp around the edges.

“No, it didn’t indeed. Nicky, Louis, Gabrielle… even Magnus … Gave them all I had to offer.” he waved emphatically at his figure. “No, I suppose my body isn’t enough for a lasting embrace.”

Orna furrowed her brows and tilted her head slightly.

“Gabrielle? Do you mean your mother?” Lestat felt caught, all manic humour disappearing from his chest, replaced with tightness. Orna continued,“You rarely speak of her.”

“We rarely speak. We have only the past between us. I let her go, look how well you’ve taught me!” he smiled, sarcastically. “There’s not much to speak of .”

“Do you miss her?”

Did he? He remembered her numbness and neglect, just as vividly as her warmth and attention. It used to bring him joy to think about their time together. He had been desperate for her embrace before, even more desperate right after his new life began. She was always gentle in her touches and, by then, he forgot what gentle felt like on his skin. She helped with the worst of it for a while and he was grateful. Did he miss her? Often but never, all at the same time. He didn’t want to see her but yearned for her to see him. She created him and then he remade her. He never felt like her maker, the same way she never felt like his mother. Except for all the ways in which, to him, she would always be his mother.

“It’s complicated. I will always be my mother’s boy… My mother’s man? Such is the nature of things. We were… close,” he clipped.

Orna abandoned her notepad, looking at him with too much understanding. He resented that look and wanted it gone. There was nothing to pity, nothing to look sympathetic about, not in this part of his story. There was nothing sinister lurking in his secrets. Just warmth and attention , and then… the sinking feeling he would never be enough. But that was the usual with all of his… loves.

He felt the silence crushing his chest, as if all the things he didn’t say were being displayed on his body. He felt exposed, like she could see the point where the lies turned into truths he wanted to deny.

She was still silent. He couldn’t stand it.

He continued, “Vampires don’t see relationships the way humans do. It is a fact of our existence. She may have given me life but I was the one who remade her in my image. A re-birth! She is no more my mother than I am her father and the truth is that we were no longer either the second I turned her. We all do desperate things to stave off our endless loneliness. It is all dust in the wind, no point in considering. It has no bearing on the present,” he finished the speech flippantly, with a swish of his hand. 

“Was it the same for you and Claudia?” her eyes were kind. Did she realise how close her words moved her to her death?

Lestat was furious. Such a ridiculous question but he did not feel like laughing. Was he to Claudia what Gabrielle was to him? He couldn’t even bear the thought.

“Do not speak of things you know nothing about.”

“I am only trying to understand, Lestat. You said vampires view relationships differently but you mentioned Gabrielle and omitted Claudia. Was it the same with her?”

Lestat kept clenching and unclenching his hand. He was many monstrous things: a liar, a beast, a tyrant. Claudia had many good reasons to hate him but not— Claudia didn’t know hatred was a gift, in comparison to the mess of feelings he had for Gabrielle.

“It was never like that with Claudia!”

She nodded like she expected that answer. “Why?”

“She was our daughter!”

“You were Gabrielle’s son.” 

The sentence felt like a slap to his face and he was forced to turn away. His breathing was hard, he was trying to calm down, feeling the familiar fury in his throat. What had Orna once said? Wounded animals can’t help but lash out. They needed a distraction. 

He analysed the blinds — solid black — and noticed the drapes on the sides had a slight shimmer to them. The walls were off-white, yellowish in the light. There was a tiny crack near a socket by the window, revealing the previous colour of paint. He watched and breathed and noticed things until he could speak.

“It was different. I wasn’t forced. I was an adult. I was… willing.” He didn’t know why his throat threatened to close around the truth.

He remembered the cold, silent indifference permeating his mortal life. The unbearable existence in his house: always either ignored or punished. His father and his brothers — cruel and unfeeling. His mother apathetic but kind, his only respite in childhood. The desperation for her to look at him. The warmth when she did. The absolute delight when she did. The dread when she didn’t.

 He couldn’t even blame her for the lack of care. He knew how desperately lonely it was for your heart to have no companion when the walls of the world kept closing around you. Nobody to help and fight away the shadows. After he turned, he wanted to be that for her; he gave her a new life, new power, all the guidance he never got, a freedom they both never had.

And she used it all to leave him.

But she had loved him, once, he knew. He clung to that. He had been loved before— In the darkest times, he clutched the knowledge to his chest that he could be loved. He realised, when he was drinking from Gabrielle at the start of her new life, the depths of her affection for him. Perhaps that was why he wanted to give her everything. He was so grateful for this gift, the proof that he had been loved before…before Magnus. He would have done anything to keep it.

“Things we consent to can also hurt us,” Orna broke the silence gently, “There is some comfort in having power over the nature of our wounds. Although, it doesn’t make them any less painful.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Not when the memory of Louis at the church came to the forefront of his mind. Lestat had offered him a choice he was never given and Louis agreed.

And look where that left them. Louis — lost in suffering and rage. Lestat’s heart caught between desperation and cynicism. A ghost of Nicky haunting their home, reminding him of all the ways he failed and could fail still. Their daughter turned to ashes.

And now Louis was back, taunting him with calculated proximity. Lestat was becoming desperate again.

“I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I know where that path leads.”

“Then don’t.” Orna smiled, kindly, not commenting on the change of topic. He was glad he had not killed her. “Find a new path. When at a crossroads, take a different turn. See where that takes you.”

“And what if I choose wrong again?” he whispered.

“You turn back, start over. You have an eternity to get it right.”

Chapter Text

Louis wandered the streets of LA, aimlessly, and pretended not to notice the ghost of Lestat in his peripheral vision. He had started seeing ghost-Lestat much less since their reunion but he still appeared whenever Louis was trying too hard not to think about him. His own subconscious was rebelling against any attempt of removing Lestat from his thoughts. He was being haunted and the man wasn’t even dead . He couldn’t imagine the state his psyche would be in if he were. The cold evening air felt refreshing, clearing his head some, but he was also literally being stalked by Lestat’s visage. Even if he closed his eyes and made his mind blank in silent meditation, there he would be… A flicker of presence in the darkness, a hint of almost warmth on his neck, a breathy whisper between heartbeats: Louis.

Are you schizophrenic? A memory of Daniel taunted him, even when he wasn’t present to do it in person.

Louis shook his head and increased his speed, making it look less like a recreational stroll and more like he was powerwalking. He needed to find a distraction . He wasn’t being this on edge for no reason. They were scheduled to meet. There was a gallery opening; Louis intended to go anyway, and, as he kept telling himself, it was neutral ground. A perfect opportunity to see each other on no man’s land and with them on equal footing. Public enough that he would have to control himself or risk some serious embarrassment. Ample topics for a pleasant casual conversation without any history attached. But it was still more than a week away and Louis was a nervous wreck .

Was he becoming impatient in old age? So many years apart and he couldn’t last 10 days? He could hear Claudia’s mocking laughter, in much the same way as he could see ghostly Lestat looking smug, somewhere in the corner of his vision. More and more he felt like he was losing a game he had never played before.

Lestat’s apparition was shaking his head, a sad smile on his lips.

“ Je n'en reviens pas! Louis?” At first Louis thought that his mental projection had spoken, and only turned around at the sound of footsteps fast approaching. “What are you doing here?” He both sounded and looked like he got a present he wasn’t expecting. Like a cat who got the cream.

“Out on a walk.” Louis replied, barely, as he was shocked at what was in front of him. Lestat was here, yes. But also, almost more importantly, Lestat was here wearing joggers . He was dressed in all black: sneakers, loose t-shirt, a hoodie and a cap on his head, face covered by a dark cloth mask. He looked so… casual — like he could disappear in a crowd. “Are you wearing a tracksuit ?”

Lestat took the mask off. Louis immediately noted the lack of pink marks this time. “Hm, yes, why? Don’t I deserve the comfort of gym clothes?”

Louis laughed at that. “Like hell you do. You wouldn’t go to a gym in gym clothes. Have you even been to a gym?” His voice was light, incredulous. Firstly, they may not have been in each other’s modern lives but there was no doubt in Louis’ mind that Lestat would never wear a tracksuit, especially just to be comfortable.

Secondly, Lestat was here in the flesh .

The man in question pressed his hands to his chest. “Oh, I feel caught.” he chuckled. “You know me too well, mon ami .” he sighed, long, tortured, “The unfortunate truth about fame is that I cannot be myself once I leave the house, for fear of riots breaking out, marriages falling to ruin, depression spiking in young men... Hence — I dress like a commoner.”

“So this is your sacrifice for the good of the people?”

“I can be considerate . Though, I now think, I should have dressed in my finest,” 

It’s only been a couple of minutes and Louis could feel himself melting.

Even though the man was trying to be subtle for once, he was watching Lestat too intently not to notice how his blue eyes quickly flickered across his face. Lestat’s smile was turning increasingly confident and self-congradulatory, a type of expression that looked especially captivating to Louis, the kind he wore when they first met. Louis on his end had just caught himself smiling fondly, already with head tilted to the right, his body swaying slightly from side to side. He couldn’t deny how charming Lestat was, how good he looked, even in commoner clothes, or the fact that it still made him a little giddy when the man showered Louis with positive attention. How was he to wait another week? 10 days?

“Are you busy, now?” Louis spoke before he could convince himself otherwise. “I-ah…” He escaped eye-contact, looking to the side at the bright signs nearby. “I was just walking, thinking ‘bout old times… Maybe you could join me on a stroll?”

“I’d love to, Louis,” Louis’ head snapped back to look at Lestat. He looked apprehensive and Louis could feel his hopes sinking. “but I have an appointment I cannot miss.”

“ Oh , that’s fine—” he really tried not to let his disappointment show but knew he was failing. Still…“Maybe I’ll walk you? Since I’m walking anyway.”

Lestat licked his lips and visibly hesitated.

“Actually, I might be in need of your professional assistance, if you have time,” he said carefully but with a small smile, watching Louis’ reaction from under his lashes.

“What with?”

“I had a stern talking to about my impulsive behaviour and state of undress recently,” he said, his expression was full of mirth but with a slight downturn of his lips. A faux pout. “It was a whole intervention and I was told they are very disappointed."

Louis couldn’t fight the good humour in his chest, “I can see you are real broken up about that.” He tried to deadpan but the affection in his voice ruined the effect.

“ Oui . They are threatening to put me on a sexual offender list . I don’t understand whom my naked form could possibly offend,” he scoffed. “alas, public indecency counts, apparently ."

“You are clearly a victim of this situation and my heart breaks for you.” Louis put his hand to his chest, fake concern in his voice. “How may I be of service?”

“Go shopping with me?” he said, his expression almost hopeful, “I am heading to meet my stylist now. Fashion is art and you are an art collector, non ? You can help me appraise my new wardrobe and withstand her company.”

Louis had to look down and to the side, shuffling his feet. He had nothing planned. It also felt like fate that they even met here. They were friends. And Louis was happy to see him, had just been conjuring Lestat in his mind to see him . And here he was, eagerly offering an evening. He had no reason to say no . Still, he hesitated. The action of choosing clothes for Lestat, in any capacity, felt so…inimate. He felt tense, something between adrenaline and excitement, but completely contained, making him feel like his skin was too tight for him.

“I don’t see how new clothes will solve your exhibitionist tendencies.” he joked, just to stall.

“I might have an easier time keeping them on if you help me choose them. You have an eye for beauty and I trust your judgement. Besides, ” His voice was playful. “I could use some company.”

Coy , Louis thought to himself. He couldn’t stop his imagination from running wild, though. A vision — Lestat in clothes handpicked by Louis, showing only as much skin as Louis allowed. Some images with him completely covered, others not at all. Lestat dressed exactly like Louis wanted, a silent mark which Lestat would accept with a delighted sort of submission. Then, a memory. His heart rate quickened as he remembered the suit, the one he loved seeing on Lestat. It was brown and looked lovely against his skin, but that was not what he remembered about it most of all. No, it was the fact that sewn in — from the inside and over his heart — were the letters LDPDL . A silent declaration Lestat used to be thrilled to make.

He took a heavy breath, steeling himself.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Wonderful!” Lestat was beaming. “Let's go before you change your mind then,” He turned and started walking, undoubtedly expecting Louis to follow and he wasn’t wrong. He easily fell into the same rhythm next to him. “I believe it is fate that we meet here: it’s just around the corner. Though, I must warn you that it’s not exactly shopping, per se, because we’re not going to a shop. We will be choosing from a wide selection of items handpicked for me by my stylist, all awaiting final approval. It is necessary, you see, because stylists simply cannot be left to their own devices—”

The voice drifted away as he only listened to its vibrant melody, himself getting lost in the content of his own thoughts. Louis realised he couldn’t remember when he had last seen him like this before. When was the last time he’d seen Lestat so joyfully walking next to him? There was a theatric flair to his movements, a small bounce in his step and an ease to his smile. He missed this . It felt so familiar and yet like a distant memory. It seemed to have been buried, crushed somewhere under the rubble of their previous life, and he couldn’t figure out where to look. When was the last time? Even when they were happy, most days there was a sharpness to his movements or a shadow of grief behind the light of his eyes. 

When was— Oh . 

He took in a heavy breath.

The last time Louis saw him like this, it wasn’t Lestat at all… just his grieving mind playing tricks on him. When Claudia was still happy about being in the coven, when Armand was still casual and uncomplicated, when Louis was still successful in fooling himself that he had found what they had been looking for. Then, Lestat would join him on his evening strolls through Paris, happily commenting on Louis’ attempts to capture beauty in photographs. He would smile adoringly and compliment his eye for detail, maybe wave his hands expressing his dislike for an undeserving subject he’d chosen. Then he would laugh at Louis’ jokes with dancing eyes and tell him how romantic it was to be in Paris together . Their hands would brush and Louis would pretend to feel his warmth, a lightness in his chest.

Now, he didn’t have to pretend. And yet…

“—and so I told her: never again a sequin thong, even if it's the only thing matching a bedazzled harness. It’s just not worth the chafing. Oh, here, Louis.” 

Louis only caught the tail of the sentence, quickly regretting tuning out the rest of it. The word thong sharply woke him up from his depressing thoughts. He uselessly tried to remember the remainder of the story, but he couldn't possibly recall something he wasn’t even listening to. In the meantime, Lestat was leading him into the building with a hand on the small of his back — hovering, not pressing.

They entered a spacious room lined with rows of hangers on wheels carrying colourful clothes. In the middle of it stood a tall, thin woman dressed in a tasteful white knee-length dress and heels. She was glaring down at her phone.

Arrogant fucking diva.

Her thoughts were loud, emotions coming out in waves that crashed against his skull, almost giving him a headache. Ouch .

Lestat sped up, walking up to her, “Anna!” He kissed her cheek but she refused to move an inch. “Am I still in the doghouse?”

“ Where have you been? I should fire you. I can have Harry Styles, he is very interested—”

“Harry Styles could never inspire you like I do. You know you’d hate the boredom—”

“Do you think work with you is exciting?” She held out a manicured finger. “You flake on fashion show, “ Another finger, “ You no show for fitting—”

“Well, here I am.”

Third finger, “Yes, late! I’m here in middle of night for you and you are late!” she glared at Louis, “And with stranger. Don’t you know secret collections are here? One-of-kind items? You know how hard I work so you can wear them first ? Who will take responsibility if that one steals something?”

Louis was appalled and defensive, “I am not a thie—”

“Oh, please,” Lestat interrupted him as if Louis had never spoken, “He is not a spy sent here to steal your vintage Versace skirts! Are all Russians so paranoid? He is here because I want him—”

“Arrogant diva, always problem! I am not negotiating. Leave people you fuck outside my —”

“That,” Lestat cut her off sharply, “is Louis .”

At the sound of that she paused, and then looked him up and down. Her expression remained unimpressed.

Really? Her thoughts sounded incredulous. Him?

“ Him? ” Louis heard it double, as he spoke her mind out loud. “You’re making fun.” she accused.

Lestat rolled his eyes and pointed with his hand at Louis. “This is Louis du Point du Lac. Now do be civil .”

How should I know!

“How should I know! I’m not mindreader!” She rolled her eyes, “Fine, he can stay. Come in, I’ll bring seat for you.”

Before she disappeared, she looked back once.

That ‘ the god that heroin prays to?’ Lord have mercy. 

He didn’t exactly know what she was referring to but he glared at her. He knew when he was being insulted.

“Please, ignore her, she’ll be nicer from now. Come,” he waved him in as Anna returned with another chair silently and put it down next to the other, opposite a long and wide mirror on wheels. “Go on and sit, we will be here for a while. I have many outfits to choose; I never wear the same thing in public twice .”

Louis tried to ignore Anna who was dragging the first row of racks to the changing area, “So, all famous people got their clothes pre-chosen and brought to them?”

“I don’t know about all but the rich ones do.” he boasted.

“Lestat!” Anna interrupted them with a shout.

Lestat whipped his head irritatedly, “I’m coming!” he shouted and turned back around. “I must go. Remember to be honest, you are here for your expertise.” 

Louis didn’t fight the laugh as the man walked away. He turned his attention to the clothes, walking up to one of the racks. He felt awkward, idly moving items from right to left, only half-paying attention to what he was seeing. He did it just to have something to do while waiting. What was he even doing?

“What do you think, Louis?”

Louis turned around and — 

— he came back online after a minute. 

Lestat was wearing a short top and a long fluffy black tulle skirt, which was much much shorter in the very front. Louis was prepared for a lot but, for some insane reason, he hadn’t considered seeing Lestat’s toned thighs through a skirt.

“Uh,” he replied eloquently. 

“I was thinking this for Tonight Show.” Anna interrupted, thank god. “Show some, not too much, national-TV sexy. Muscles out but femme.”

Lestat was still standing next to the mirror and watching Louis expectantly.

Louis had trouble forming thoughts. “Well, uh… What she said.”

Lestat made a face and put his hands on his hips, flattening the fabric and making the skirt hug his hips tighter.

“That's it?”

Louis swallowed, “It’s…nice?”

Lestat scoffed, obviously offended, “ Louis , I asked for your professional opinion and you are not taking this seriously.”

The man in question couldn’t help but laugh as Lestat clearly was actually taking this very seriously. It broke some of the tension in Louis’ body and he tried to look at the outfit again, with more of a critical eye. Lestat kept frowning at him indignantly. Louis walked up closer, stopping next to Anna, knuckles finding their way to his lips in thought. It was quite difficult to try and assess the outfit while attempting to ignore the sight at the same time. He was making an effort to think about how the skirt objectively looked on Lestat without thinking about how this skirt actually looked on Lestat. 

Eventually, he frowned.

Lestat scoffed again, “You hate it.”

“No, no, I like it a lot but… It’s too fluffy around your hips. It hides your waist too much.”

Anna made a sound, “He is right but I will add some wide leather belts. Three or four I think.”

Lestat hadn’t stopped staring so Louis replied, “Then I have no comments. You look good.”

Lestat smirked triumphantly, and turned to Anna, “Approved, next!”

Anna opened her lips slightly and her eyes widened a fraction, but she quickly shook it off and powerwalked after Lestat with more options.

The next couple of outfits were… interesting and colourful but nothing Louis hadn’t expected, especially after the first one. He made sure to comment at least a little about each one, but Anna was clearly good at her job and there weren’t many corrections possible to be made. It became quite clear in the course of the night that she knew Lestat's body very well and Louis was trying really hard not to think about potential reasons why that was, for fear of ruining the good time he was having.

And he was having a really good time, great even. As they made their way through Lestat’s potential wardrobe, he could feel a certain space opening up in his chest, allowing him to somehow breathe easier. It was an odd feeling; akin to wearing a very tight corset for far too long and finally removing it. The feeling of the first unconstricted inhale, the tension leaving the body upon the next exhale. What amplified the strangeness was the fact that, even though until a moment ago Louis hadn’t realised the tightness was there, now its presence couldn’t have been more obvious. It was as if someone took away some weight he didn’t know he had been carrying.

“I do not like this.” Lestat’s voice was firm and put off. It was the first time today that Lestat spoke his opinion first, and so it warranted Louis’ immediate attention.

When Louis caught sight of him, he was wearing a plum-coloured suit with multicolored stitches carefully placed to give the impression of being unfinished whilst remaining aesthetically pleasing. It was very baggy, creating a boxy shape which was doubly intensified by the addition of a similarly-designed dark-green coat. Instead of a boutonniere there was a big bouquet of what looked like raven feathers attached to the left side of the coat. Lestat’s hair and eyes pleasantly contrasted the combination of colours, making them stand out even more than usual.

“It is for award show. It makes your colour palette pop, perfect for pictures.” Anna insisted.

Louis saw the point of that. The photograph in him definitely itched to take a picture. Not for the first time he was glad for the technological advancements of the 21st century. He had the perfect camera to capture Lestat in the exact right light. Maybe in shadow and smoke, one light-source, noir-style? A cigarette between his hands, captured during an exhale. Looking away from the camera, his face half-turned and half-shadowed. Body relaxed, legs spread.

He’d need a hat.

“Maybe add a hat?” Louis supplied, already having a vision.  

Anna leveled him with a look, considering, “Not bad, actually. Hat would work.”

“No hat, no this.” He grimaced at himself in the mirror before facing them. “This is horrible. I look bloated.”

Anna rolled her up, sighing. “You are magical. Not everything can be skin tight. This gives you interesting silhouette—”

Lestat scoffed, “And a beer belly.” 

Anna put her hands on her hips, “This again!”

“I’m allowed preferences! You are my stylist, you should listen—”

“Yes, I am style -list,” she enunciated, “I know style—"

“And I know how good my body can look, and this ratty suit makes it look like the Michelli—”

"This is Maison Margiela you're disresp—”

“Lestat!” Louis couldn’t help but interrupt, his voice fondly chastising, “You can’t be serious. You look fine .”

Lestat looked away, crossing his arms on his chest. He shrugged, “I prefer to look better than fine . I like to look in shape, shape in question not being rotund—”

“Lestat.” he repeated, not even attempting to stop the incredulous laugh from his voice. “ You don’t look fat in this. You can’t even be fat, remember? The worst that awaits your body is a bad hair day.” he was chuckling but stopped once he saw Lestat was becoming genuinely upset. “Oh, come on. Look at me.” Lestat huffed out a breath and returned his gaze to Louis after a moment. “You…ah” he trailed off a little, not wanting to speak before finding the right words. The kind of words that Lestat wouldn’t misunderstand or dismiss. The ones that would make him keep the suit. Louis hoped his expression showed sincerity, “I...I would love to take a picture of you in this.”

And just like that, the storm which appeared in Lestat’s eyes dispersed. They widened slightly and he took in a sharp breath, as if he was shocked by a small burst of electricity. His pupils widened a little and eyelids fluttered. He looked surprised, touched, disbelieving, appreciative? Louis couldn’t interpret such a heavy look within seconds.

He wished he had his camera.

Anna groaned in the background, “Oh my God.”

“Not quite.” Lestat replied, absentmindedly, still gazing at Louis. He signed, and turned to walk away towards the changing area. Briefly he looked back towards Anna, “Keep the suit.” 

Louis let out a shaky breath, trying, and failing, not to be too pleased. Or turned on.

“You should come next time too.” Anna spoke suddenly, “You make him behave.”

Louis let out a shocked laugh at the absurdity of the statement. There wasn’t one moment in their entire history when he had made Lestat behave .

><

It was already late, or early depending on perspective, when Anna declared the styling session to be over. She also stressed the fact Lestat was not done, which could’ve been avoided if he had arrived on time . The comment, however, lost a lot of the bite when she added, in the privacy of her thoughts, that the meeting had been more productive than any other before. 

Louis tried not to think too hard about that.

Overall, Louis felt better than he had in a while. Long while. The kind you didn’t remember the beginning of. And then Lestat’s fledgling came and ruined it.

They were still in front of the building, idly talking about nothing in particular, when a vintage car pulled over. A man in his late twenties got out and leaned against it, staring at them from afar. Louis could’ve overlooked it if not for the fact that Lestat glared towards him in irritation.

“That for you?” Louis guessed.

Lestat groaned. “Unfortunately. I would postpone it if I could but Orna has a strict schedule.” 

Louis ignored the name, assuming it was another member of Lestat’s personal team. He did, however, feel a pang of disappointment, which he forced himself to push down. It was maybe 2 hours until sunrise. It was only logical they go their separate ways, unless they intended to turn their impromptu meeting into a sleepover. Which Louis didn’t intend or want. At all. 

“I should go anyway.” Louis assured. “It’s high time I went home, I don’t want sunlight to singe my clothes,” he joked.

Lestat’s expression changed in a flash after Louis’ reply but he couldn’t pinpoint the particular emotion that crossed the man’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and was replaced with a polite smile.

“Yes, that would be best. I shall see you in the gallery, then.”

Fucking hell, he’s not even that hot, get moving .

Now, Louis wasn’t conceited. He wasn’t concerned about his appearance either — in fact, he knew he was handsome, hot even. He wasn’t exactly insecure about his looks. He was aware that, as the kids said these days, he could get it.

But how many times can a person hear they just aren’t that attractive before they lose it? By the entourage of your hot famous ex too? 

It seemed Louis had just reached it.

Lestat seemed to notice as he cocked his head to the side.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your entourage seems awfully disappointed in me, ” Even as he started speaking, he knew how petty he sounded, “You know any specific reason I keep coming short to the legend?”

Lestat looked around as if he was searching for cameras, eyes dancing. “Who do you mean? Anna?” Louis looked away and Lestat laughed, “You should hear what things she thinks about me. She called me shrill and dramatic,” Lestat actually did the airquotes while rolling his eyes, “more than once.”

“A little hard to believe with her still being alive and all,” he replied bitterly.

“I respect artistes and I cannot deny her skill. Also, I told you I try to control my urges now. ” Lestat shrugged, clearly not taking this seriously. “Louis, pay her no mind. She doesn’t even enjoy men, what does she know?”

Louis shuffled his feet, embarrassed but his pride too wounded to back down. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, “She’s not the only one thinking I’m subpar .”

Lestat’s eyes darkened, “Did someone disrespect you?” 

Suddenly, when met with the intensity of Lestat’s gaze, the slight felt even smaller and Louis’ anger even more childish. No one disrespected him, really. People are allowed to have preferences, it’s fine for Louis to not be theirs. Not that it mattered , but Lestat didn’t share the sentiment, that much was obvious. Also, he begrudgingly admitted, his protectiveness felt…nice. It made Louis unwind a little. 

Jesus Christ, I promise I’ll find you a mail-order look-alike, just get in already .

“Fuck!” the man exclaimed, as his jacket burst into flames.

Lestat blinked once, then twice, surprise evident on his face — he must have heard the man’s previous thoughts because Louis could perfectly hear the unspoken ‘you’ve got to be fucking with me’ which Lestat was thinking. His face remained blank for a moment more, and then his entire body tilted forward in an explosion of laughter. He swayed a little, holding his stomach, the other hand blindly searching for support as he struggled to stay standing. The laugh was absolutely hysterical, the kind Louis had only witnessed a couple of times — the one which had once answered his question of being enough. Lestat was shaking so hard his hood slipped down and onto his head, covering it messily.

The sight was so comical, Louis lost most of the motivation to fight. He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself.

“Okay, fine, keep laughing. It bruised my ego a bit, but I’m still not the vain one between the two of us.” he continued pointedly, “I would love to see your reaction to someone saying you’re not that hot .”

Lestat straightened, still shaking, a perfect representation of incredulity on his face. “The ratcatcher? Louis!” His tone was scolding and amused at the same time, as if Louis had just achieved the very height of absurdity. 

Louis’ emotions shifted from anger into embarrassment, and he looked away, shuffling his feet. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“I admit it’s not my finest moment.” Louis groaned. “It’s just… your manager said I’d be…Ah—” He ran a hand through his hair, “Forget it.”

When Lestat spoke next his eyes were still sparkling. “Forgive them, Louis , for they know not what they do. Really, you mustn’t blame them, it’s my fault for making this inevitable. Mon— Mon ami , you must realise they only know you through my words, they only saw the image I painted of you. I opened a small window to my soul so they could understand your significance, but they still remain on the outside, looking in. Who could possibly hold a candle to what I see when I gaze upon you, Louis ?” His voice became softer, gentler, “They simply don’t know yet but — they will learn the nature of your singularity.” 

By the time he finished speaking, he was playing Louis’ heart like a drum, every word creating a resonating sound throughout his body. In the past, during the worst of their time together, Louis had sometimes forgotten why the tendrils of love for Lestat were so deeply rooted in his soul. It sometimes felt easier to forget and focus on hate, rage and hurt that overtook his body, pretending the love was never there or not as strong, or at least something he could weed out one day while putting himself back together. But then, a moment always came when Lestat would gaze into his eyes and say something like this .

And Louis remembered .

Chapter Text

Louis was sitting by the table, sipping some blood from a glass while Daniel recounted his interview with Lestat — more yelled out than recounted, really.

“Next thing I know, the fucker chokes me!” Daniel exclaimed, outraged, “First he hires me to ask hard-hitting questions and then he chokes me when I ask them. Not with his hands either, the fucker dark-sithed me!”

“Ah, he what?”

Daniel groaned, “Used the force, switched to a wireless connection for his strangulation needs. And then he called me dramatic for ending the session early. Dealing with him is not worth the money.”

“How much is he paying you, anyway?” Louis questioned, curious.

“ Not enough. I should demand to add another zero or two for hazardous working conditions, I bet the asshole can afford it.”

Louis pondered for the first time how rich Lestat was exactly these days. He had always been well off but he seemed even more careless with his money recently, probably having too much to know how to spend, with all the new avenues of income he had now multiplying his previous fortune. After investing for most of his long life, Louis was in much the same position, though Daniel certainly knew that.

“You should be careful, he’ll pay you what you agreed but he was never forgiving to those who tried to fleece him,” he joked.

“Oh, yeah, because he was known to only scorn the wicked — towards everyone else he was the epitome of forgiveness and endless generosity,” Daniel sassed.

Louis frowned but didn’t take the bait. Still, he was curious, “What did you ask him before he choked you?”

Daniel sat down and replied smugly, pouring himself another glass of red, “Which ghostwriter he uses for his songs.”

Louis’ laughed at that and nodded.“Yeah, that’ll do it.” he remarked. He hadn’t listened to any of Lestat’s songs but he didn’t need to know them to know Lestat. Over the years, Louis had become intimately acquainted with the inner workings of the man’s soul, and had it on good authority that it was made of music , “Lestat takes all forms of art very seriously, but music is his truest passion.”

“You don’t fucking say? The way he killed the opera singer could have fooled me. He seemed really casual about that.”.

“Why did you ask if you knew?” Louis questioned.

“Cause the guy’s a narcissistic pompous asshole but his songs are actually half-decent. I don’t like the feeling of enjoying anything attached to him. Besides,” he added playfully, “it makes me giggle like a schoolgirl just thinking about exposing him for being a fraud,”

Louis scoffed, unable to stop himself from feeling offended on the man’s behalf, “Lestat would never sign his name under someone else’s work. He’d think they weren’t deserving.”

“Bach could only dream about the honor —”

“Oh, come on! Lestat may be arrogant and vain but he has always been a very skilled musician,” he argued, indignantly. “I’m not sure whether it’s talent, decades of practice, or both but every piece he had ever played he eventually mastered. I can’t deny his skill as a composer either—”

“It’s cute you think I care. I wouldn’t have even bothered doing this book if the guy wasn’t the Second Coming of Justin Bieber.” Daniel said sardonically. “Even if he wasn’t unfairly rich, he is too big of a name to pass up.”

Louis was vaguely aware of who Justin Bieber was so he assumed it was a big celebrity, which meant Lestat must have become quite recognisable, “He’s that famous?”

Daniel looked towards him quizzically, “I thought you googled him.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “I googled his pictures, that’s all . I didn’t want to find out what kind of fuckery rockstar Lestat got up to.”

“Still.” the man continued, “dude’s everywhere. Everything I knew about his career before we met, I had learned against my will and trust me — it was quite a lot. And his voice is inescapable. I can’t even buy a pack of cigarettes without his whiny vocals singing pseudo-poetry at me.”

“I lived in Dubai . I don’t know much about current American pop-culture.”

“What and there’s no internet access in Dubai? Did Armand keep all the iPads on high shelves?” Daniel mocked. Then, his eyes narrowed, like he caught something. “Wait, lived? As in past tense? Haven’t you told me you’re just visiting , Louis?”

Louis bristled and schooled his expression into careful neutrality. “I come and go. I’ve never minded travelling.”

“Ha. Riiight . And remind me, why are you here again? Clearly not to listen to me vent over dinner, unless you’ve always dreamed of being the devil’s advocate in your past life.”

Louis shifted uncomfortably under scrutiny but kept his expression blank. Truth is, he was feeling restless again but he was not about to go running to Lestat, lest he wanted to look like a lovesick puppy, something which he was not . Secondly, he had neglected his mentor duties significantly since coming to LA and so he wanted to fix that. Lastly, Louis had been wandering the city again and Daniel was good at being a distraction.

“Your body may be very very old,” Louis started and Daniel immediately scoffed, offended. Louis smirked, “but you are still very young for a fledgling. You need supervision.”

“Oh, yeah, our weekly conversations about your life and your problems definitely make me feel well-looked after.” he shot back sarcastically, “You know who you remind me of? My mother. ”

Louis ostentatiously rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for not being more considerate of your feelings , Daniel. What’s new in your life?” 

“You mean outside of Lestat and your doomed romance bubble? Hmmm, let’s see… I've had a ton of interviews, both as an interviewer and interviewee. My daughters still mostly refuse to contact me but eagerly take my money. My ex-wife filed a restraining order against me, as if I would want to see her... I’m also testing my new vampire vitality with every willing hot body that I see…What else… oh, and I talked to Armand.”

Louis froze. “Armand? He contacted you?”

“Not exactly. My attempts to find him were apparently noticed. There was a letter with a phone number in my mailbox a couple days ago. No signature, no note, just a phone number. Coward couldn’t even show up in person.”

Louis knew Armand enough to be aware that it was a somewhat true assessment. He was very confident in both his vampiric abilities and manipulation skills but overanalised everything to the point of complete deconstruction. His reasons for moments of hesitation were never being afraid exactly, but the lack of control any unforeseen consequences would bring. Armand was simply so goddamn indecisive . Chances were even he didn’t know if he wanted to meet Daniel or not.

“What happened when you called?” Louis questioned, curiously.

“He told me to stop looking.”

“And?”

“I told him we both have eternity to play cat and mouse, and since I had smoked him out of whatever dark hole he crawled into, then I’m probably pretty close already. And that it isn’t a question of if but when I find him, and a matter of exactly how pissed off I’ll be by then.”

Louis let out a surprised laugh at how gutsy Daniel could be. Armand could swat him like a fly for being annoying and the man was still banking on the fact he wouldn’t. “What did he say?”

“Told me he’ll think about it and hang up on me.” Daniel sighed. That sounded a lot like Armand. “You’re not angry?”

“Angry?” he questioned, confused.

“That I contacted Armand without warning you.”

“I never expected you to ask for my blessing.”

“I wouldn’t and won’t, but I’d get it if you were pissed… given the history.”

Daniel’s eyes searched Louis’ features while the latter’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Louis supposed that he understood the disbelief and he had to admit that Armand was not someone Louis wanted to meet ever again. However, he couldn’t sustain the fury he had felt upon discovering his crimes. While the knowledge of betrayal was fresh, the act itself was old, and he had grieved its consequences for many decades already. After so many changes to Louis’ psyche, it almost felt like it had happened to someone else or in another life. He was still outraged at the injustice that had befallen Claudia in the general sense, but towards Armand himself… he mostly felt indifference. 

If he had to be honest with himself, the last time he saw Armand, Louis had more feelings for him than he had previously had in the course of their entire relationship. It might have been hate, but it was something. He felt alive. Most of the time, Armand couldn't stir much in Louis and he slowly started to lose himself in apathy. Their union oscillated between cold and tepid, making him yearn for the fire.

Now that they were separated, he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Look, what you and Armand do is none of my business, as long as you keep it none of my business.”

Daniel huffed, a hint of offense in his tone, “77 years together, married , living a lie of his making and it’s water under the bridge?”

Louis grimaced, and attempted to explain matter-of-factly, “Our companionship was always going to end. Do I wish it had ended differently? Perhaps. But there’s no point dwelling on the past. Travelling through the endless vastness of time would be unbearable without learning how to move on and forward. Our kind must adapt.” 

“Sure, because you know so much about moving on and forward from your past. How's that friendship of yours going anyway?”

The man hasn’t specified which friendship but he didn’t have to. Louis glared. 

“It's going fine.”

Daniel snorted, “I've no doubt. Abusive marriages are notorious for creating the bestest of friends.”

“What binds me and Lestat is much more than—”

“Hey, I’m not judging for once.” Daniel interrupted, “In fact,” He put a hand to his chest, “I have to give credit where credit is due — you were right that the Gift fucks with your head. I mean, I doubt I would lose any sleep over Armand if we didn’t share some supernatural fledgling/maker psychic connection. I mean, the guy’s a dick.”

Louis could feel a confused sort of anger rising at the words. Daniel was right about the bond. It wasn’t like Louis wasn’t aware of the delicate thread that subtly connected the minds of fledglings and their makers. He used to feel it, too, the gentle pull in the back of his mind after he had turned Madeleine. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a tickle in your throat you couldn’t get rid of. But that wasn’t the only pull he had felt back then. There had also been another which had started before his re-birth — a tumultuous storm that marked the beginning of his acquaintance with Lestat. It was first a breeze that kept taking speed, turning into strong howling winds, then a hurricane. It hit a crescendo during their first evening together. Un petit coup — a small drink that both emptied his resolve and filled him with longing and more.  

The first time they shared their warmth, with bodies joined at the skin and teeth piercing his neck — he felt home. Not his actual home, but the idea of it, a sense of belonging, of finally returning to a place you can rest. With that small amount of blood, Lestat had devoured a piece of Louis’ soul and it would stay there forever, flowing through his arteries and circulating his heart, making them forever bound. Conjoined twins attached at their hearts.

It was more than a maker bond, and Louis tried to push down the disproportionate anger at the comparison. Daniel simply didn’t understand, couldn’t understand it the same way Armand never could. Armand also assumed Louis would get over his “fledgling depression”, which apparently was common in vampires abandoned by their maker. The problem was, Louis hadn’t been abandoned, he had chosen to leave; it was only that the choice he had made was one neither his body nor mind could live with. He had tried to believe Armand when he had said that it would pass but time could only cause him to dull his ever shifting emotions, turning them into resentment — it never changed the same sole object of his affection. The act of letting go of Lestat was something even his imagination couldn’t conjure.

Daniel took Louis’ prolonged silence as a sign to continue, mistakenly , “Hell, Armand would have never contacted me if I wasn’t his only fledgeling. If I’m so special , he could’ve at least given me a manual to this shit, instead of fucking off to God knows where. Hey, maybe Lestat will lay off you some since he got himself a new one.”

“It’s not like that.” Louis snapped. “And I doubt he turned the millennial.”

Daniel squinted, “Oh, no, the millenial’s definitely turned, I saw him try to use the Cloud Gift while jumping from 4th floor and I can tell you,” he paused for effect and added gleefully, “he doesn’t have it.”

“I doubt Lestat is his maker. I was the first one he turned after a century—”

“And then he turned Claudia and Antoinette in rapid succession.” he deadpanned.

Louis scoffed, “I had to beg him to turn Claudia. And the other was turned to spy on me.”

Daniel laughed at that, “Oh, you think you’re special, don’t you? The baby can’t be his cause it would shatter the illusion.”

Louis let out an annoyed breath, “It wouldn’t matter— It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is that I know Lestat’s… requirements and the fledgeling  doesn’t measure up.”

“But you do.” Daniel paused, his gaze calculating, “You know what I find interesting? That even after finding out he had other fledgelings and lovers , even after Nicky and Antoinette, you still believe you’re the chosen one.”

Louis couldn’t stand listening to Daniel any longer, and so he left, in a blink of an eye, without saying goodbye.

><

Louis paced in front of the big wide windows of his home with a phone in hand. This was ridiculous. When had he started being so needy? It was usually Lestat who was in great need of verbal assurance regarding their bond… but then again, Lestat had often given that to Louis without asking. It always seemed that for the other man the act of proclaiming his feelings was equal to music or acting. It was another form of art he reveled in and aimed to perfect. Or perhaps it was more of a compulsion, one even stronger than his thirst for blood. Either way, he had always been generous with his words of affection. Louis knew he wouldn’t refuse the request. 

He took a deep breath and dialed the number before he could lose his nerve. He tried to convince himself that the conversation would be much easier over the phone. However, the longer he waited, the stronger was the urge to cancel the call. In fact the wait was so long, he started losing hope that Lestat would pick up.

Finally, he did.

“Bonsoir, Louis,” Lestat’s voice was delighted but barely audible over the music. “Please, wait a moment.” Some shuffling, someone screaming Lestat’s name, a sound of a door opening and closing, leaving the background noise muted. “I am here. Sorry for keeping you waiting. Are you calling about tomorrow?” He sounded much clearer now.

“No. It’s not about the gallery,” Then, Louis realised with a start, “Are you in rehearsals?”

“ Oui. Do you want to come and watch?” he replied, a low rumble in his speech.

Louis almost choked at the idea, “No! No. I wanted to talk about something but…It’s nothing, well, nothing important—”

“It’s more important than what I’m doing, I’m sure.” his sign resonated within Louis, “I’m here against my will and as a sign of there still being goodness in my heart. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but I can sing my own songs perfectly . It’s them who need the practice.” he sounded dismayed. “In any case, you are a welcome distraction.”

“It’s just—,” Louis signed, losing momentum. “I shouldn’t have called…”

“Louis,” he replied gently, “tell me what you need,” Louis could hear the Lestat in his memories whispering hotly the same into his ear: tell me what you need, mon amor. “I can hear you torturing yourself,” he added.

“I’m not— It’s not… necessarily… bad , it’s silly .”

Lestat chuckled, “I have never been above indulging your frivolities.”

Louis rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, lights dancing beyond his closed eyelids. He took several steady breaths. He couldn’t even understand why he felt so nervous. He hoped he knew the answer, he shouldn’t care about the answer, and he definitely should not have called Lestat just to hear him say it. But Daniel got to him and unearthed old insecurities Louis thought he had long overcome.

“I have a question to ask you.” Louis paused, hesitantly. Lestat’s only reply was a soft hum, and he couldn’t get himself to say the words, “But I need you to actually answer it honestly. No lies and no omission either. And you can’t ask me why I’m asking. And no laughing . I would rather you hang up than—”

“Louis,” the man interrupted. “I can’t answer the question if you don’t ask.”

“Right.” Louis took a shaky breath, “Do you feel a pull towards all your fledgelings?”

Lestat hummed, the sound deep and thoughtful, “Yes, a bond between maker and his construct is always formed upon bestowing the Dark Gift. Although, its strength, or lack of it, depends on several factors. I’m sure you felt the invisible connection to Madelaine, after.”

Louis nodded, his head still on the glass. “A little, for a moment but... Armand told me that as one of the reasons for not turning her. He didn’t want the burden of eternal connection. But after I turned her, she was barely there .” There, as in: in his mind, in his vision, in his soul. It was nothing like Lestat at all.

“ Gremlin wasn’t wrong.” he huffed as if it was a struggle to admit Armand had ever been correct, “The bond can become heavy, tightening like a noose around your throat with enough time,” Lestat quietly admitted, “especially if the souls are ill-matched.”

Louis frowned, “What do you mean?”

“That’s another question,” he teased, but continued, “A world-view clash. The fledgeling or the maker could grow to hate the other, resenting the ever-present connection. In such cases, they might decide to sever it, choosing one of the only two possible ways.”

Louis closed his eyes harder, quickly realising what he meant, “Murder.”

“Or suicide. There is no other solution.”

“Have you ever wanted to… sever a connection?"

“One I created? No.” the reply was fast, like he didn’t need to think about it. “I am a perpetual optimist, Louis. If the burden got too heavy, I aimed to be stronger. If I couldn’t, I would distract myself and forget. Either way, the bond is one of the few things I consider sacred, and I would not break it, given the choice.”

Given the choice. Louis swallowed heavily.

“Did you really want to spend forever with all of them?”

Lestat was silent for a long moment, then, “No. My reasoning was often…complicated, and impulsive.”

Louis clutched his phone harder, “What about the new one? The millennial?”

“Ratcatcher?” he sounded scandalised. “Oh, no, no, Louis, who do you take me for? I would have never given him the Gift. Eternity is wasted on his tiny mind. He is much too… average.” he said it like a slur, and then flippantly added, “I found him on the street, he’s just a stray.”

Regardless of his turmoil, Louis couldn’t stop himself from snorting at the phrasing, “Yeah, I told Daniel as much.”

“You talked to Daniel about me?” Lestat’s voice was an odd mix between pleased and dismayed, like a child getting mint candy.

Louis hummed in affirmation but didn’t reply, the topic sitting like a boulder on his chest. The silence stretched like a rubber band, becoming more tense with each passing second. Louis knew he was stalling but he couldn’t find words that would form the question. He always found it hard to ask Lestat for what he wanted. The idea used to fill him with dread, it was like giving Lestat ammunition. He unconsciously tuned into the sound of Lestat’s breath, as if it were a mantra.

Lestat disrupted the quiet first, “Was that all you wanted to know, mon ami?” 

The sound of the endearment awakened the echoes of lost sweet nothings that used to be in its place. He had to ask. He couldn’t ask.

“You said the strength of connection varied. How much exactly did it vary for you?”

He made a thoughtful sound, “Everything between an avalanche and a spec of dust.”

“What about ours?” he forced out, eventually, then swallowed. “Where would ours fall on the scale?”

Lestat’s voice was soft, “With you there is no scale.”

Louis shook his head. He felt foolish, and needy, but still mostly… insecure.

“Was Nicki—”

He heard Lestat gasp, “Louis—”

“—beyond scale too?”

There. He said it. Back then, in their home, it felt too humiliating to ask. Lestat used to be his entire world, his first in so many ways, how could he have asked his only choice if Louis himself was just a replacement? Whenever the urge had been too strong, he would use his mouth to suck words of affection out of Lestat, pretending it would be enough of an assurance but knowing it couldn’t be.

Even though Lestat hardly ever spoke of Nicki, when he had, it was in half-finished sentences with distant suffering clouding his eyes, betraying that it was intense emotion and not indifference which caused his silence. When he had felt especially melancholic, he would play the piece he had composed for the man and he did it with such intense passion Louis felt as if he was intruding on a love confession — to somebody else, in their home. For so long Lestat refused to compose anything for Louis, but dared to play music composed for another. Louis resented that piece more than Antoinette. 

Was it the same as with me? He wanted to ask. Was it better?

Would Lestat have turned Louis if Nicky hadn’t died? 

Would he have noticed Louis at all?

Would he have cared to look at others if Nicky hadn’t gone mad?

Would Louis have continued his mortal life and died, never knowing Lestat?

The last one stung the most.

“Louis,” he breathed out, something broken in the exhale.

“Was that why—” you needed variety? Why I wasn’t enough? “Was he—” enough? “Do you… wish he hadn’t died?” he asked, finally, anything more being too big to squeeze through his throat. 

Silence fell but this time Lestat’s breath was too uneven to act as a mantra.

“I have a lot of regrets,” he eventually said, “Nicki being at the centre of many. I wish… I wish I had known then what I know now. But Louis, you must believe me when I say it, I don’t regret anything that led me to you.”

“Even—” he didn’t know what he wanted to ask, but he didn’t have to.

“ Nothing, Louis. Every night I wake up grateful for having met you, and fall asleep easier knowing I will see you in my dreams.”

The tightness released a little from his chest, but his breath was still heavy. He didn’t know what to say.

Suddenly, Louis heard a door opening and another yell for Lestat in the background of the phone call. He pushed himself away from the window and looked up with a heavy sigh.

“They’re calling for you.”

A huff, “Let them call, they’re unimportant.”

“It’s fine, Lestat. We’ll talk tomorrow. In the flesh.”

“Yes.” he replied wondrously, “And what a joy that will be.”

“See you tomorrow.” He moved to hang up.

“Louis?” Lestat’s voice stopped his hand and he pressed the phone to his cheek again.

“Yeah?”

“Even,” he began, his tone steady and sure, determined, “if all of my fledgelings were alive and vying for my attention, it wouldn’t have mattered. It could not matter. From the very moment my eyes saw you under the street lights of New Orleans, there have been no contender.”

Then why?

Louis kept his thoughts inside, both trust and doubt spreading equally in his mind. He knew, he knew, what they had was different. He could feel it in his bones every time they kissed, touched, made lov— fucked. But he assumed that, perhaps, a part of Lestat was still missing someone, or something he couldn’t give. It seemed like the only explanation. If there had been no contender then why—

There was no point in scratching at old scars.

Louis inhaled shakily, “Yeah, okay. I’ll— I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oui. Until tomorrow, mon—”

Louis ended the call. 

He got his answer, for once, so why did he feel even more confused?

Chapter Text

Lestat came to a door and started knocking furiously, only half-paying attention to controlling his strength but still doing so — knowing the person living there would be angry if he cracked the wood. Again.

Finally, Orna opened. She was still in her robe, pajamas underneath, but her hair was combed, and there was already a smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. He was glad, as it was a sign that he waited long enough outside before intruding.

“Lestat.” she said, more scolding than surprised.

Which was logical, as only Lestat had a habit of visiting his therapist’s private home at 4:30 o’clock in the morning. It was still dark outside, but that was the point.

“I agreed not to come before you wake up. You’re up!”

“Barely. Do you know what time it is?”

He stormed past her, “It won't take long. I just need your perspective as Louis is being incomprehensible and I need to be composed when I see him —”

“We have a meeting scheduled tomorrow evening. In the office. ”

He plopped down on a chair in the kitchen. “Unfortunatelly, I am meeting Louis today at dusk so this cannot wait. I will pay you handsomely, as usual.”

Orna sighed, closed the door and joined him. He knew she would later insist on talking to him about professionalism and boundaries , but there was a reason why he was keeping her on an expensive retainer.

Lestat looked around the relatively small kitchen and tried to get comfortable. Everything looked clean and shiny but so…50s. The colours were too flashy and the layout outdated. He noticed a new tablecloth on the table.

“Is that an oilcloth?” he grimaced in disdain. “I pay you too much for you to live like this.”

The woman took a sip of her coffee, unbothered.

“It's vintage. Let’s talk about what happened.”

Lestat sighed and started drumming his fingers on the table in a wavy motion.

“I was at the studio when Louis called. Of course,” His other hand came to his chest. “I was overjoyed. That is until he started a line of questioning that roughly amounted to ‘have I ever truly loved him” and ‘did I love others more’, oh and ‘would I prefer someone else’ as if I was the one who left. As if I’m not the one walking on eggshells so he doesn’t leave again!”

He took out a metal cigarette case from his pocket, and opened it in one swift motion. He took one out and brought it to his lips.

“Please, don't smoke here.”

Lestat hesitated for a moment before putting the cigarette back in. He closed the case with a huff. His hand fell onto the table and started twirling the metal box. 

“Did he tell you why he started asking those questions?”

Lestat stared at her as if she lost her mind. Louis continued to be even more secretive and explosive since he reappeared, and Lestat tried not to push, for several reasons (all of which he was consciously not thinking about). As a result, most of the information he had gathered about the man’s life was from the unguarded parts of Daniel’s mind and his own observation. He was forced to admit that meeting Daniel was somewhat of a blessing, as if he hadn’t, he would be even more confused about Louis’ erratic behaviour. The man disclosed nothing voluntarily, and treated every inquiry like an attack.

“It would have been a true miracle if he had. Let me remind you what he has done so far.” The next words came out faster, proportionally to his racing thoughts. “He came to the city, just texted me the address with no explanation, not that I expected to be awarded any. Then, he gave me her diary, without warning, right after I was forbidden from calling him mon cher. Like it doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t argue. And I left without prompting. I gave him space.” 

He paused dramatically, tilting his head to the left. He was trying to vividly paint the ridiculousness of the situation. Lestat was giving Louis space. Voluntarily. Willingly.

“But then,” he stressed. “He visited me without notice. He didn’t even tell me why he came. Did I push? No! But he still got angry at me for numerous different reasons in rapid succession. Didn’t stay, didn't tell me why he came in the first place, just told me he'd contact me ‘soon’.” He made quotation marks in the air. “I thought that was code for never but I let him go. Again, I gave him his space.” he mocked. “And now I’m invited to go to an art show with him.” 

Lestat held Orna’s gaze, searching for a reaction but she remained the epitome of neutrality. He was aware she was a professional but this was simply absurd. He let out a short laugh. 

“Do you understand? First, he can’t stand a few minutes with me, then he wants an evening! Obviously, I agree. How can I deny myself a night with Louis?” He laughed again. “I am a glutton for punishment. Of course, the night before we meet he calls to ask if our bond is one of many. If he is one of many. If I loved another more. More!” He slapped the table and stood up swiftly, agitated. “What more is there? What higher bar do I have to clear? I chose him, I died for him, I lived for him. I would kill in his name. But above all, I distance myself to ensure his happiness!” He was pacing, gesticulating wildly. “At my core, I am a selfish creature, and there is only so much I can deny myself! I cannot be expected to pretend my love is a thing of the past whilst simultaneously fighting to prove it! I am not a saint! I am not one to suffer such accusations quietly. And yet, I am continuously exceeding even my own expectations because here I am, screaming to you about it instead of finding him and—!” He growled in frustration, grabbing the back of the chair. “Why should I continue to provide evidentiary support of my feelings to be scrutinised and rejected? I’m not the one who has always stayed silent in matters of affection! I’m not the one depriving the other of even the most basic confirmation of any positive feeling—”

“Lestat.” She sounded concerned but her expression remained carefully neutral. “The chair.”

Lestat let go of it, feeling the splinters on his hand. He was breathing heavily. He hadn’t even noticed, but he crushed both the cigarette case and the wood sometime during his speech. He could feel the sharp edges of his fangs touching his lip. He realised he was spiraling again.

“5-4-3-2-1.” she reminded him gently.

He took the biggest breath he could, trying to forcefully relax the tension in his chest, and then let it out slowly. 5-4-3-2-1. 5 things you see. His eyes found the oilcloth. It had a colourful, flowery pattern so he tried to name some of them. Red roses, pink tulips, yellow daffodils, orange poppies... Wait, orange? He had never seen an orange poppy in the wild. The ones growing on his father’s lands had always been red. 

Didn’t they make opium from poppies? He could use some opium. His thoughts were so much more bearable when he wasn’t sober.

…But Louis would be furious, and Lestat was trying out this brand new strategy of NOT provoking him. A plan which was working out amazingly and was definitely not doomed from the beginning.

He took another breath and sat back down, carefully not placing any weight on the broken back. He didn’t bother with feeling guilty about it — Orna would surely add it to her bill.

“I need to get over it before I see him.”

“You’re the only person in control of your feelings,” he replied patiently. “but we can try to untangle it all a little.”

Lestat scoffed. If he could control himself or his feelings, he wouldn’t be here, talking to a therapist.

She continued. “The first step to doing that is understanding what they are and where they came from. How would you describe what you’re feeling?”

Lestat groaned. It didn’t seem very productive.

“Irritated. Frustrated. Confused.” Hurt. His mind supplied.

She pressed on, “Is that all?”

“Offended. Slighted.” He averted his gaze and swallowed. 

“Hurt?”

“...A little.”

She pursed her lips, looking thoughtful.

“You said that you feel like you have to constantly prove your love to Louis. Is that what upsets you the most?”

Yes. No. It was complicated. He had always loved loudly, unapologetically, fervently, but all it ever resulted in was rejection. He wished he could say that he had learned from his mistakes but he hadn’t. If he had, keeping quiet about his feelings wouldn’t feel like withdrawal. How could he express what it felt like when the object of his affection yearned to be loved, but didn’t love him back? How could he explain the determination that rose within him at the challenge, the absolute heartbreak of repeated failure, the crippling need to please and love, regardless of reciprocation? 

“If he had actually wanted to receive it, I would be happy to oblige. I take great pleasure in voicing my appreciation of Louis. But he doesn't want to hear it… The only reason why he asked was because he is unsure of it. Again.” Lestat paused, putting his face in his hands. “I made many mistakes. But I have always hoped that… Regardless of what I did… That I made him feel loved. Wholly, unconditionally loved. The only way he should be. I tried to instill in him that not a singular thing in his mind, body or soul was unlovable . That he was one of a kind and absolutely irreplaceable. And he all but asked if he was a replacement,” he chuckled darkly, lowering his hands. “How could he not know?”

What was the point of him if he couldn’t even make Louis feel loved? Why would Louis come back if not for his affection? What else did Lestat have left to give that Louis might need? And how could Lestat give it to him when he didn’t know what that was?

Lestat didn’t know if it was laughter or a wail squeezing his throat, and he hated the fact he couldn’t stop oscillating between the two. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out.

4 things he could hear. The cars. The clock. His heart. Her voice.

“Did he tell you why he doubts your feelings?”

Lestat found the notion so ridiculous, he huffed out a small laugh. “No. Louis never says what he means. But… he mentioned Nicki.” He shook his head. “I would’ve understood Antoinette but Nicki—”

“I’m sorry,” Orna interrupted, which was rare. “Who’s Antoinette?” 

He groaned. Lestat had forgotten they had never talked about her. There wasn’t much to talk about, the only reason he even remembered her name was because she was one of the mistakes that cost him…

“She was nothing but a distraction, a warm-blooded body when I needed one. But I also used her…to hurt Louis when I felt slighted. To get his attention whenever it faltered. To get a reaction out of him. To… know his thoughts… I understand if he still resents me for it. But he didn’t even mention her. He was focused on Nicki.”

“Could it be because you loved him?”

“Loved. A hundred years before Louis. What does it matter what was before Louis?”

“It might matter quite a lot. The past is what shapes us. It informs our decisions. I assume he wanted to know all of you, and Nicki was a big part of who you used to be.”

Lestat shifted uncomfortably. He never could quite understand Louis’ insistence to be stuck in the past. There had been times when he practically lived in it. On the other hand, Lestat tried to live in the present. Every time his new life started, he aimed to forget as much as he could about the old. 

The memories he couldn’t erase were ones he least wanted to recollect.

In his mind, each new life was clearly separated. There was his mortal life. Then, there was his unlife. Finally, there was Louis and the life after. He currently lived in the after. He didn’t care much about the first two. What was the point in sitting around miserably and recalling all that was irretrievably lost?

And yet, here he was, doing just that, trying to convince himself there was some greater purpose to this. There had to be. Louis was back, for a time. They were talking again. Louis didn’t want a companion but he did want company. Which also included Lestat’s company, as of late — for reasons he didn’t understand but was grateful for.

However, it didn't change the fact that Lestat didn’t trust himself around Louis. 

He had enough of being the cause of Louis’ pain but hurting him felt inevitable. It was as if anything he had consciously tried to do to keep Louis close pushed him away, with his unconscious acts only worsening the conflict. It might have taken him a long time but he had noticed the pattern. Those who Lestat loved had always tried to run from him — and in turn the beast within him demanded to break their legs so they couldn’t. So he wasn’t alone.

Oh, the list of atrocities he had committed for love (to gain love, to keep love, to be loved, to love) was long and constantly updating . Nicki was on it.

All that damage, just to end up alone anyway. Love was truly a Sisyphean task.

“I never liked talking about Nicki. What happened… I can’t undo it. I tried to leave it all in the past.”

Orna nodded in acknowledgement. Her gaze was calculating.

“Did you avoid his topic?”

“I moved on from the topic.”

“What about Louis?”

“Louis had a phase when he kept asking about my past. Nicki was among the myriad of questions. He wanted to know what had happened between us. I told him the past didn’t matter.”

“Did you tell him what he wanted to know?”

“What would be the point? It was an old wound that I never liked to scratch. I tried to focus on us, on what we had. Something that I am still trying to do. Louis shouldn’t insist on revisiting what was left behind.”

Orna hummed. “Since you refused to fill in the blanks, he might have done so with his own doubts. He may have assigned a different meaning to your refusal. You didn’t have to tell Louis that Nicki was important to you; silence can speak louder than words.”

Lestat took a deep breath. That he was aware of. 

He remembered the deafening sound of Louis’ silence that used to fill every corner of every room of their shared home. The unspoken accusations. The air thick with tension. The resentment. The hatred in the few words that were spoken. All that he could take but… the indifference. He couldn’t stand the cold hell of indifference. He fought against it — he’d whispered his love in every language he knew, and when that didn’t work, he raged in the same way, his jabs becoming crueler with every passing day of silence. He had been on his best and then on his worst behaviour. And Louis… didn’t seem to care either way. He wouldn’t even deign to look at Lestat. No matter what he had said or done, Louis couldn’t care less . He would stare at a book, at a wall, at nothingness in some corner, or worse, at a flames in the fireplace with death in his eyes. 

But not at Lestat. He could easily go months without even glancing at Lestat.

The worst thing was that, when Lestat was alone, he could still hear this particular sound of silence, the same way his mother’s silence used to linger in every room he entered. It was always there, in the background of his loneliness, as long as he was sober enough to notice. It had only gotten worse since Louis left. 

It started getting better when he came back.

Lestat dreaded it getting worse again.

How could Louis possibly relate to that? Lestat had never been indifferent towards Louis, he had never rejected him nor had he ever denied him his attention. It wasn’t even a matter of choice. He couldn’t choose not to shower Louis with affection — not to speak to Louis, not to care for Louis, not to want Louis — any more than a desert flower could choose not to crave rain, whenever it came. And Louis was the rain, he was like water which Lestat uselessly tried to hold in his hands.

It had always been different for Louis, and Lestat remained painfully aware of it. Every new revelation from Lestat’s life had been a new trial for their relationship. Louis proved to be especially disgusted by his impulsive acts of cruelty. What would have happened if Lestat showed all of himself? Or rather… How much faster would Louis have left him if he knew what he had done?

What he had done to Nicki?

Louis was much less forgiving of lesser crimes.

No. Lestat thought grimly. Louis had been too forgiving.

Lestat was simply… too much.

The truth was, every time he had imagined telling Louis, he could almost see that spark of affection going out in Louis’ eyes. Lestat knew there was an undeniable bond between them, but it was not an unbreakable one on the other man’s side, and Lestat couldn’t risk it. A part of him still hoped that… given enough time… one day that spark would turn into the same fire which Lestat burned with… He closed his eyes tightly. He had always feared that Louis knowing too much about him would forever kill that hope. 

And Nicki…  

Lestat wasn’t blind — he saw the parallels between Nicki and Louis. Even back then, he was aware of them. He had always known how similar Nicki’s story was to Louis’, and the part he had played in both of them. 

The part of a monster.

Lestat still remembered the disgust in Nicki’s gaze — the flood of rage and resentment spilling out from his lips, with every word aimed to hurt. All of the softness and warmth of love had been replaced with cold enmity. The last words spoken between them were burnt into Lestat’s soul like a brand. A warning.

Lestat would be lying if he said that he no longer cared for Nicki, or that talking about him was painless. But it was neither love nor pain that sealed his lips — it was fear. He was afraid that history might turn into a prophecy, only under a different name.

It almost did, and Lestat wasn’t even there—

3 things you can feel. The hard chair. The sleek tablecloth. The splinters pushing out through the skin.

2 things you can smell. The coffee. The cigarettes.

1 thing you can taste. His own blood in his mouth. He wished it belonged to a housewife on benzo. No. There weren't enough drugs in the world to make him forget about that.

After prolonged silence, she continued, “Why have you never told him about your past? It would settle many of his worries, I imagine.

“I… I thought that the knowledge wouldn’t give him peace, that it could only bring us ruin.”

But ruin had come regardless.

“Did your opinion change?”

“It seems my silence wasn’t any better.” Lestat reluctantly admitted.

“You could try telling him now.” she suggested.

Lestat let out a humourless laugh. Right. What did he have to lose? 

Only everything he had left.

“Lestat.” she continued gently, “At the beginning, you said you wanted to do this ,” she gestured between them, “to stop being in the way of Louis’ happiness. It wasn’t an ideal reason for therapy, but any reason is good enough to start. Now, I think it would be useful to revisit that goal and break it down a little. Happiness is a very broad concept that can mean many things for many people. For one, do you only care about him being happy? Or being happy with you?”

Lestat decidedly didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“What’s that got to do with my current predicament?”

“You said he started inquiring about your past when you were still together, and you haven’t seen each other for almost eighty years. It must have been, what, a hundred years since he first asked about Nicki?” She paused for confirmation, and Lestat only nodded. “If he is still asking, that means he can’t let it go for some reason. Whatever questions he used to have clearly still bother him enough to bring it up again after a century . He doesn’t seem happy with the current state of things. You could put his mind to rest. But that would require accepting the possibility that he might not like what he hears, or that he might stay and want to know more.”

“He might disappear again.”

She nodded. “He might. That’s his decision to make, just as it is your decision to tell him or not. But, if you tell him and he stays, it would make his presence more meaningful, wouldn't it?”

Lestat knew it would. It would also mean he had made yet another pointless mistake which it was too late to rectify. Yet another failure caused by being afraid. Afraid, afraid, afraid. Always afraid of this thing or the other. When had he become such a coward? Wasn’t he the rebel, the Wolfkiller, the one who drank from Those Who Must Be Kept, the one who laughed at those who aimed to destroy him? 

When had he become ruled by fear?

He could accept being mad but he could not abide being a coward. That, at the very least, he had to change.

He stood up, having made his decision.

“I think I’ve taken enough of your time.” he said politely. “I’ll walk myself out. Thank you for your perspective. It was most illuminating.”

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow in my office.”

He waved his hand reassuringly, walking towards the door already. 

“I will be there.”

He left, mind still racing, but this time with purpose.