Archive of Our Own ^beta

The feel of the pebbles surrounding his feet is calming.

Louis buries his feet deeper, grounding himself, his eyes closed as he tries to clear his mind. Most times it doesn’t work. Memories come in flashes, taunting him, reminding him of a past he wishes he could change. But he can’t change it and he can’t forget it. He had made his choices, whether sometimes those choices were coaxed by others or not is no longer important, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s never the good times that flash before his eyes when he’s like this. Never the moments that made him smile, feel a hint of happiness, whether it was back home in New Orleans or in Paris. For those moments, Louis has to dig deep into the crevices of his mind, holding on to them so that they’re not forgotten. A lifeline. He worries, at times, that he’s trying so hard to cling to those memories that he’s started to distort some of them. It’s been so long that the lines between reality and fiction start to blur. 

Opening his eyes, he turns his face towards the bookcase, high up on the wall, wishing he could easily get up there and scan the contents. Pick a book, curl up on the couch and read until the early hours of the morning like he used to. The thought of having to get a ladder to make his choice feels like too much effort, so he takes a deep breath, gets up, puts his shoes back on, and pads to the living room.

It’s tedious, this life he leads. If it can even be called a life. Enclosed within four walls like an animal in its cage, despite it being his choice, the lights of the city shimmering in the distance as he looks out from the last floor of the skyscraper. It’s frighteningly quiet and lifeless—such a difference from what he was used to decades ago.

The loud, vibrant nights in New Orleans, a city that never slept in his time. Streets rustling with all kinds of people and all kinds of sounds. Even Paris, in his early nights in the city, when he could still bring himself to enjoy it, felt so alive. Louis felt alive even if his body was not.

In Dubai, Louis feels disconnected from everything. There’s not a single part of him that wishes to go out into the streets below. Nothing feels genuine or enticing to him. He’s not sure if it’s the city itself or him. Most likely the latter if he has to be honest with himself. The years pass and so does his indifference.

The numbness has overtaken him completely. Since that night in Paris, Louis has been nothing but a shadow of who he once was, an undead thing roaming the earth like a dark grey cloud threatening a sunny day. Were it not for Armand wanting to be present for Louis, looking out for him to ensure he doesn’t lose himself, he would probably have walked out into the sun a long time ago, or he would be so weak from lack of feeding that he wouldn’t be able to move a muscle.

Instead, he’s here. Enduring.

The truth is that Louis is not sure what he’s enduring for anymore. He has spent decades in this state, with only Armand to keep him company—a mutual benefit as Armand, much like Louis, had no one else to turn to. There is also the occasional blood donor he gets to speak with, but those conversations don’t go beyond simple pleasantries. Night after night, his routine is the same, and every night he waits until the sun starts to kiss the horizon so he can return to sleep and forget everything for a few hours, only to then wake up and remember everything again.

His mortal family is long gone. His daughter is long gone. His—

Louis closes his eyes. He can’t go there again, can’t afford to spend another night spiralling out, wishing for something he knows he can’t get back.

Daniel had been a breath of fresh air in the midst of everything. Granted, the reporter has become ruthless in his old age. Fear no longer clouds his mind, despite Louis being able to smell it underneath his skin, as he picks at Louis’ retelling of his life; calling out the divergence of the facts shared that night in San Francisco, calling out the ways in which Louis contradicts himself, calling out his true feelings, questioning his interpretation of certain events. It makes Louis feel raw.

He needed this, in a way—for Daniel to unknowingly help him come to terms with key moments in his life that Louis struggled to accept. Feelings and actions he sought to justify in vain. It hurts nonetheless, the way everything he had buried suddenly rose to the surface like salt being rubbed into an open wound. He doesn’t know how he’s ever meant to feel any better when everything once again feels so vivid in his mind.

With the interview coming to an end and Daniel no longer in the penthouse, Louis is once again left with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him busy. He misses the reporter already, strange as it might be. Louis has grown rather fond of him but he knows they’ll see each other again. Armand will make sure of that, no doubt.

Louis stares at the city outside until the colour of the sky starts changing in the distance, black giving way to dark blue. Then he walks to his bedroom, slips under satin sheets, and closes his eyes.

He imagines that he’s in a coffin, in a different city, in a different country, in a different year. He feels the ghost of a strong arm circling his waist and pulling him close until his back is pressed against a warm chest. A phantom kiss planted on the back of his neck. Words of love, bleeding with fondness, whispered in his ear.

Louis’ hand moves to hold the arm around him but all he finds is emptiness and his own body instead.

His heart aches.

Armand’s tablet remains in the living room. He had told Louis which commands to use to control the house—the windows, locks, alarms, lights, and whatever else can be configured by the little gadget. Louis can even read his books on it but he much prefers the feel of a physical copy. Old habits.

It amuses Louis how a vampire who has walked the earth for over five hundred years finds himself so captivated by modern day technology. He remembers when Armand used to tell him about all the appliances he bought years ago for the sole purpose of understanding how they worked. Something about microwaves and blenders seemed to fascinate him.

Days before Daniel was set to arrive, Armand had shown Louis all his latest purchases to ensure Daniel had everything he could possibly need for a comfortable stay, in spite of the circumstances.

“He used to like grasshoppers,” Armand said as he stored his purchases in the kitchen cabinets. “Nowadays his drink of choice seems to be the martini. I wonder what else has changed that I could not get from his mind.”

Louis had picked up on the pang of nostalgia in his voice and squeezed Armand’s shoulder in reassurance. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

Louis unlocks the tablet and taps the email icon, the flight details he had requested a few nights back filling the screen. His finger hovers over it—just a few taps and he could arrange to have his coffin in the hold of a one-stop flight to New Orleans. Armand would no doubt try to talk him out of the trip and Louis does not have the energy to argue with him. He doesn’t have the mental strength to do most things these days.

He stares at the screen for minutes on end before locking the tablet and setting it back on the table.

There’s no point to any of it but to bring him more pain. Sometimes Louis thinks he’s become something akin to a masochist with the way he willingly seeks things that have the power to hurt him. 

The quiet is his worst enemy lately, especially since Daniel left, so he fights it by putting music on. A record player sits in the corner of the room, with a few vinyl records stored in the cabinet underneath. His hand hovers over the rerecording of the song written and composed for him. Sometimes Louis listens to it, so he doesn’t forget the voice and the yearning embedded in it, the lyrics that had him storm out of their house to get back what belonged to him and that speak to him now more than ever, reflecting his own feelings. 

But he chooses against it tonight, choosing another record at random and letting the music fill the air.

He ends up drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the delicate notes of a piano and the tiredness from waking up when the sun was still shining, comforted by the images provided by mind.

Locks of golden hair. A teasing smile. Iridescent blue-grey eyes. The feel of soft skin against his own.

For all the bad memories stirred by his brain during his waking hours, his subconscious seems to try and balance it out when he’s asleep. And it does feel good when he’s immersed in that world, but when he wakes up there is a shocking wave of nostalgia and emptiness that drowns him, leaving him to sit and stare into the void as he slowly remembers where he is and what his life has become.

With a steady sigh, he turns off the music and walks to the balcony, staring up at the black sky. Louis doesn’t know what brings him comfort anymore. Past and present haunt him. The future is uncertain. His loneliness overwhelms him. He waits, in the meantime, to find out what’s in store for him when the book hits the shelves.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a shadow fall to his left but pays it no mind. Trick of the light, no doubt. When he looks to the side there’s nothing there. 

As the minutes pass, Louis starts feeling a tingling sensation that causes the hair on the back of his neck to raise. His breathing quickens and he slowly turns his body, walking back inside and closing the sliding door behind him. Nobody could be in the penthouse. No human would have gotten past the security system. No vampires would find him here, Armand had reassured him, so long as he kept his mind veiled. 

But there is a presence, unnatural, he can sense it.

Louis blinks once, twice, and then notices the figure standing at the far end of the room, seeming to look back at him. He focuses on it and notices how familiar it looks, his breath catching in his throat. Closing his eyes, he counts to five, and when he reopens them nothing has changed. The same figure on the same spot.

It’s happening again.

When Louis had escaped New Orleans with Claudia, he saw him everywhere. Backstage at the theatre, sitting in the corner of a bar, among the crowd, at the foot of his coffin. Every time, Louis blinked and then he was gone. Nothing but Louis’ guilty conscience playing tricks on him time and time again, reminding him of the crime he had committed.

It’s been years—decades—since it last happened. And now here he is again. Except this time, he’s not going away. Minutes pass and he’s still there. Louis can’t bring himself to look away.

“I dream about you,” Louis says to the figure that hasn’t moved an inch since Louis set his eyes on it. “I think about you when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I feel the ghost of your touch constantly. And now you have come to haunt me once more.” Louis’ hands shake and he clenches them into fists, nails digging into his palms, no doubt drawing blood. “I wish you were really here.”

And he does, doesn’t he? Louis would gladly be led into the fire by the Parisian coven, would consent to anything if it meant he got to have five more minutes with him. One last kiss, one last hug. To hear his voice one last time.

“I need you,” Louis chokes out. “I need you so much it physically pains me.”

And what is Louis doing now, talking as if he were really here? This feels like the madness he’s heard about before, one that leads many vampires to go into the earth or to end their unnatural lives.

Louis shakes his head and lets out a strained chuckle. “You would laugh at how weak and pathetic I’ve become. You would be so disappointed.” He thinks back to that cruel, mocking laugh and feels shivers running down his spine. “If you thought I was weak before, you should see me now. Too human, wasn’t it?”

Louis walks the length of the room. He might as well take advantage of it. Not that there’s much else to do in this metaphorical cage.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can carry on like this,” Louis says. “I should have just died that night in the church. Not born into darkness, just plain old death. You should have made another. Picked someone stronger than me.”

The thought makes his stomach twist.

“You would have been happier, I think. But I would have hated it, to see you happy with someone other than me when you had given me a glimpse of what we could be, what we could give each other.” He thinks back to their first meeting. “Used to wonder if you were capable of controlling my mind, you know? I couldn’t shake you off from the moment I met you. I still can’t.”

There’s a sense of hopelessness that’s consuming him whole. Louis wants to scream, to cry, to end it all. He’s so desperate for something to change. 

“I miss you.” The tears blur his vision and he blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. He looks back at the figure and lets out a shaky breath. “Lestat, I miss you. I don’t know what I am without you.”

It’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself since that night in New Orleans. The feeling had been there since the moment he closed that trunk, but Louis had always rejected it, pushed it down. No, he didn’t get to miss him. Not after what he’d done. Not when he had to give Claudia the freedom she deserved even if that meant losing half of his heart.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? You would never want to look at my face again.” Monsters don’t deserve to be happy after all. “You would probably be repulsed at the thought of me.”

“I will always want you, Louis.”

Louis stills, feeling a shudder running down his spine.

He watches as the figure moves slowly, approaching him with caution, and Louis takes half a step back, willing his body to move. The figure comes into the light and Louis exhales sharply, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“No,” he says weakly. They had always been just visions in the past. There was never a voice to accompany them. This is new. “You’re not really here.”

His back hits the wall as the figure comes to a stop in front of him. If Louis were to extend his arm he would be able to touch it, but he’s convinced he’d feel nothing. His mind has tricks, that’s all.

“I’m going mad.” Louis closes his eyes. “Finally lost it.”

“Louis.” The voice sounds so real. A siren song, drawing Louis to it. “You’re not mad. It’s me, I'm here.”

Louis’ stomach turns into knots.

His entire body trembles as he lifts his hand and places it on the chest in front of him. Solid. Could it be? A hand comes to rest on top of his, pressing it down until he can feel a heartbeat underneath, as frantic as his own, and Louis’ knees buckle then, steadied only by the arm that slides around his waist, holding him in place.

“Lestat,” he whispers.

A smile. Blue-grey eyes looking back at him, shiny with tears, trepidation evident behind them.

“My Louis.” Lestat’s voice is velvety, quiet so as to not scare Louis. He turns his head slightly as if studying Louis’ face and nods slowly in reassurance.

And—

Louis all but collapses against him, shaking with emotion as the tears well up and fall down his face, heart pounding rapidly in his rib cage. He weakly wraps his arms around Lestat’s waist and feels Lestat’s hand cradle his head as he holds him tighter. 

His brain can’t form a single thought other than Lestat. His eyebrows knit together as he tries to comprehend the myriad of emotions flooding him, the utter disbelief that Lestat is currently with him, in his arms, after nearly a century spent apart, most of which was spent thinking he was dead. Louis clutches Lestat’s shirt, scared that if he loosens his grip Lestat will disappear into thin air. Questions start to rise in the back of his mind, but he pushes them down, wanting only to stay confined in this embrace until his body gives out, unable to give in to the noise in his head.

He feels the press of Lestat’s lips to his temple and only then does he dare to lean back and look at him again. He touches Lestat’s face, that beautiful skin stained with red, and Louis gently wipes the tears with his thumb, hand shaking.

Lestat had always been a vision, but after so many years of existing only in Louis’ memory he looks ethereal. 

“It’s really you,” Louis says, voice tight. “You’ve come back to me.”

“I will always come back to you.” Lestat traces a finger along Louis’ cheek. “Is that not what lovers say?”

Lestat runs his hands over Louis’ face too, tracing his features, eyes following his own movements. His face breaks into a smile for a moment and then he sucks in a breath.

“I spent many nights wondering what I would say when I finally saw you again,” Lestat says. “And now words fail me.”

And what does one say when reunited with a lover who betrayed their trust? 

What does one say when reunited with a lover whose throat they slit?

“Have you come for revenge?” Louis finds the words leaving his mouth before he can think over them. 

Lestat tenses, his hands sliding from Louis’ face to rest on his chest. There’s a sudden shift in the air, setting Louis on edge, an immediate regret hitting him.

“No,” Lestat says, and Louis can’t get a read on him, despite Lestat’s face always displaying his feelings so clearly. “Never.”

A heavy moment passes. There’s so much to say and yet it’s silence they both choose, much like in the old times when things got bad.

“Sorry.” Louis shakes his head. “It’s just—”

“A lot?”

“A lot.” An understatement, if anything.

“Louis,” Lestat continues quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ve waited so long for this moment.”

“You have?” Louis shares the sentiment, but part of him had expected Lestat to be angry after everything that had happened.

“I’m nothing without you,” Lestat echoes the same words from a century ago. “After I woke up, I couldn’t rest until I found you.”

“After you woke up?” Louis asks, unsure of the meaning behind those words.

“It’s a long story,” Lestat answers. “Would you like me to tell you everything now?”

Louis’ mind is all over the place. He hasn’t slept properly in days; the tiredness starts getting to him and he knows he has to be fully alert for this conversation. He looks at Lestat pleadingly. “Will you wait until tomorrow?”

Lestat nods. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, hesitant. There’s a sudden sadness in his eyes that leaves Louis anxious.

“No,” Louis says quickly, gripping Lestat. Not when I just got you back. “Stay.”

Lestat offers him a relieved smile as if he’d been scared that Louis would send him away.

“How did you get inside?” How did you find me here?

“You were in the balcony with the doors open. I moved quickly enough for you not to see me,” Lestat answers. “You must pay more attention to your surroundings, it could have been another one more dangerous.”

Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell Lestat that he would not have cared, so he simply nods.

“Come.” Louis reluctantly takes a step back but links his fingers with Lestat’s and walks him to his bedroom. “Will you lie down with me?” And then he realises the absurdity of the question; the two of them separated for nearly a century after Louis attempted to murder Lestat. Why on earth would Lestat want to lie down with Louis as if nothing happened? “Or if you want—”

“I will.”

Louis lets out a breath of relief and then proceeds to dig through the closet to find sleep clothes for Lestat.

“How do you feel about sleeping in the bed?”

“In the bed?” Lestat asks in a slight panic, whipping his head to face Louis. “Louis—”

“The windows are made of a material that shades us from the sunlight,” Louis interrupts him gently. “We’re protected here, you don’t need to worry about the sun.”

Lestat looks at the floor length windows in confusion and Louis can’t help but smile. Modern day technology.

“I’ll explain it later.” Louis senses some apprehension from Lestat but he seems to accept Louis’ answer. “Coffin it is then.”

He gestures for Lestat to follow him, going through another door to enter Louis’ coffin room. Out of habit, he still sleeps here more often than not, unable to find much comfort from a bed. It feels unnatural to him.

Lestat climbs into the coffin first and Louis follows, draping an arm around his middle and resting his head on Lestat’s chest. When he feels Lestat’s arm around him, Louis’ heart finally starts slowing down, basking in the feeling of Lestat’s solid body so close to him.

“Don’t leave if you wake up before me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Louis.” Lestat places a lingering kiss on Louis' forehead and holds him tighter. “I don’t wish to be parted from you again.”

Sleep comes quickly for vampires, as if their bodies have a clock that shuts them down at the same exact time as the sun rises and wakes them as the sun sets. Sometimes—quite frequently as of late—Louis tries to fight against it just to see how much control he can have over his very nature. There are days he wakes up with the sunrise and goes through his day in a haze; there are times when he can’t bring himself to leave his coffin no matter what colour the sky is. He knows it’s not healthy, but his coping mechanisms were never the best.

He didn’t stand a chance against falling asleep hours ago.

Now, he lies in his coffin scared of opening his eyes and finding that everything had been but a mere illusion. Louis struggles to trust his mind nowadays, more so after his recent interview with Daniel.

Tentatively, he reaches out with his hand, patting the space around him only to find nothing but emptiness. He snaps his eyes open and sits up in a flash, opening the lid of his coffin and looking around him. Panic rises when he realises he’s alone and his body deflates, heart clenching in his chest as if compressed by an unknown force.

Louis grabs the pillow and brings it to his face, screaming into it in despair. He can’t think of any other way to ease his pain. The sudden predatory feeling flashes in an instant; the urge to leave the penthouse, find a victim and tear their throat, drink their blood until their heartbeat becomes faint. And then repeating the action until he’s sick and can’t carry on any longer. 

Would it be so bad, if he gave in just this once?

“Louis.”

His head turns instantly towards the voice, his eyes wide, anger and relief battling inside him. Lestat approaches him and gently places a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“You left,” Louis says, unable to hide the accusatory tone.

“I had to feed,” Lestat explains. He bends down to kiss Louis’ forehead. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He melts into Lestat’s touch, the anger leaving him as quickly as it came. “Don’t do it again.”

“Don’t leave you again?” Lestat asks with a slight head tilt. “Like you left me?”

Louis’ face falls and he backs away as if the sun had shone on his face, just in time to see Lestat’s eyes flash with sudden regret at his words.

“Guess I had that one coming,” Louis says, getting up and walking past Lestat towards the living room. The tension flares up, palpable in the air between them. He swivels around to look at Lestat. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

Louis gives Lestat the opening because he doesn’t know where he could possibly begin.

“Armand told me you were dead.”

Louis meets Lestat’s eyes. The older vampire folds his arms, leaning against the wall.

“After what happened to Claudia.” His voice wavers and he casts his eyes down for a second as if it pains him to say her name. “I wanted to see you, but he told me you were dead.”

Louis had assumed that Lestat too had died. It wasn’t until recently, days ago, that Armand confirmed Lestat had survived and left that same night, despite having Louis believe the opposite for decades. It was Daniel’s nagging, his refusal to believe Louis and Armand’s recounting of the events, that led to Armand’s furious outburst where he confessed to the truth. 

Louis had been floored—everything he had believed and struggled to accept suddenly picked apart before his eyes. 

“I spoke to Armand later that night,” Lestat continues, oblivious to Louis’ thoughts. “We went to the tower where Magnus made me. Armand pushed me off the roof and left. Did you know that?”

Louis’ brows furrow. “Why would he do that?”

“He had his reasons, I suppose.” Lestat smiles bitterly. “He had been content living in the catacombs with his coven and he never forgave me for coming along and destroying everything he believed in. He thought it was arrogant of me to walk the streets of Paris as if I belonged there. He thought I made a mockery of our existence with the theatre, bringing out our secrets even though humans did not believe it for a second.

“And he could never accept that I didn’t want his companionship despite him begging for it time and time again. I couldn’t see a future where we didn’t destroy each other. He couldn’t stand the sight of me just as he couldn’t stand the fact that he still loved me and he still couldn’t have me. He wanted me, and then he wanted you.”

“So you’re saying that he settled for me just because I had a connection to you.” Louis isn’t sure how he’s meant to take this. Had he been a second choice the entire time, something to settle for?

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I believe he cared about you and he truly wanted you for who you are. How could he not?” Lestat smiles sadly. “He didn’t want to lose you and I became a potential threat to your relationship when I showed up in Paris. At the same time he saw an opportunity to have his revenge for what I had taken from him decades before. That’s what I think. You’ll have to ask him for the truth if he hasn’t told you already.”

At that point, in Paris, Armand had been teaching Louis how to veil his thoughts, something he was not good at when they had first met. But seeing Lestat on that stage had Louis throwing away all his progress, his mind filled to the brim with emotions that had no doubt been caught by Armand. Shock and relief to discover that Lestat was alive and had come all the way to Paris, a flash of hope flaring inside Louis, his heart calling out to Lestat, wanting to get closer and hold him in his arms.

Whether that played a part in what happened in that tower, Louis won’t know until he speaks to Armand.

“Did he want you to die?”

“No,” Lestat says. “I don’t believe that. He knew I would survive the fall, but I was weak for days. Every bone in my body was broken. It was torture to go back to New Orleans.”

Louis can’t begin to imagine the pain. Lestat is one of the strongest vampires he’s ever come across. If he had been in pain then Louis would have likely not survived in his place, unable to move and find a safe hiding space to recover. The thought of Lestat falling from that tower, the sound of crushing bones as he hit the ground, makes him shiver.

“That’s where you’ve been this whole time?” Louis knows now that his urge to go back home hadn’t been without cause. It wasn’t merely a longing for his old life that was drawing him to the city, but something else. Someone else.

“I’ve been under the earth, asleep for decades. As you get older you will find that after long periods of roaming the world you need to close your eyes for a while. And I had to heal my wounds, too. I was too weak and the only other way to speed up the process was to drink from a powerful vampire. Obviously I couldn’t count on Armand for that. That’s why I went to Paris in the first place, but ended up leaving in a worse state than when I arrived.”

It’s a lot of information to take in. Louis’ mind is all over the place.

“When did you wake up?”

“A few nights ago,” Lestat says. “I’m still not at my strongest. That’s why I wasn’t here when you woke up earlier. I need the blood, and the journey here was weighing me down.”

Louis allows himself to look carefully at Lestat, noticing, with clearer eyes, that there’s a shine missing. His skin isn’t as perfect as it used to be, much like Louis when he decided to exclude humans from his diet as a young vampire. There’s an unmistakable tiredness in his expression.

“Why are you here, Lestat?” Louis asks quietly. It’s not that he doesn’t want Lestat to be here, with him, but he wants Lestat to tell him in his own words. He doesn’t want to make any assumptions.

“Your name was on my lips the moment I woke up,” Lestat confesses, his eyes softening. “Nothing else mattered to me. I would have come sooner but I had to wait a few days until I was physically strong enough.”

“But you thought I was dead.”

“I never believed that, deep down.” Lestat shakes his head. “I knew that Armand loved you too much to let any harm come to you. But I had to heal first, Louis. I knew I would find you again, however long it took. I wasn’t going to give up.”

“How did you find me?” Louis thinks back to when Armand said no one would be able to find them here. He wonders, then, if there could be others closing in. “You can’t hear my thoughts, so you couldn’t have heard me calling out for you.”

Lestat’s expression softens, a touch of hope in his eyes. “You’ve been calling out for me, Louis?”

Louis glances away, unable to handle the intensity of Lestat’s eyes. It’s not intentional. Louis knows Lestat would never be able to hear him, but his mind drifts sometimes, and he loses his footing, hoping that somehow he’d hear something—anything—about Lestat from others.

“No, I can’t hear your thoughts,” Lestat says when Louis doesn’t reply. “But I called out for you, in the hopes that another vampire had seen you or heard of you and could guide my way. Only one answered, on the third night.”

“Armand,” Louis says in disbelief. He’s not sure what to make of this information. “No one else could know.”

“Yes.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“No,” Lestat says. “He told me where to find you and then veiled his mind. I couldn’t reach him anymore.”

Louis wants to close the distance between them and take Lestat into his arms, to hold him so tight that nothing can tear them apart. That invisible cord that Lestat spoke of on that dreadful night does exist, and it pulls them together like two celestial bodies orbiting around each other.

“Why are you not angry?” Louis ends up asking. He had imagined their reunion in so many ways and in half of them there was no happy ending, no hope for them. “We left you to die.”

“Did you?” Lestat’s voice is soft when he speaks, carefully treading around the subject. “Did you want me to die, Louis?”

Louis swallows, looking away from Lestat. The memories that Daniel managed to bring to the surface with his questioning flash in his mind again. Holding onto Lestat’s body, seeing the blood flowing out of his neck, and Louis screaming in agony at what he thought he lost.

“You didn’t burn my body, and you knew you had to burn it and scatter the ashes if you truly wanted me gone,” Lestat says. “You put me in a trunk and I ended up in a landfill with rodents everywhere to feed on.” When Louis doesn’t say anything, Lestat presses on, repeating his question. “Did you want me to die, Louis?” 

“You know the answer to that.”

Lestat shakes his head. “I don’t think I do. I don’t think you do either.”

“It’s complicated,” Louis offers, turning around to face Lestat again. “I wanted you dead as much as I wanted you alive. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I still don’t know if I would have done things differently.”

Louis expects Lestat’s expression to turn ugly, for him to demand an explanation, to demand an apology for what he and Claudia had done. He expects things to turn physical. 

He doesn’t get any of that.

Then: “I understand.”

Louis is unsure if he’s heard correctly. “What?”

“I understand,” Lestat repeats. “I had it coming, didn’t I?”

“You can’t be serious.” Louis is baffled, not believing the words coming out of Lestat’s mouth. 

“I am. I would go through it all a thousand times if I had to. Do you know why, Louis? Because I know we’d still find each other again. There’s nothing in this world that can keep us apart.” Lestat shifts as if he wants to approach Louis but decides against it. “I would welcome any torture in the world if it meant seeing you again. I care about you that deeply, Louis. I lo—” He stops then, pursing his lips. “You hurt me, I can’t deny that. But I forgive you.”

Louis scoffs. “You forgive me?” 

Forgiveness. Louis has complicated feelings towards it. He has lived with constant guilt from a very young age, part of it stemming from his religious upbringing, and it all increased tenfold with the sins he’s committed throughout his life as a human and as a vampire.

“Not that I am apologising,” Louis says because, even after all this time, he’s not sure if he should. “But why would you?”

“Stubborn as ever,” Lestat says quietly, through a small smile, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Because you’ve forgiven me for my mistakes, as difficult as it was for you to do so. As much as I didn’t deserve it sometimes. Most times. I probably deserved a worse fate after everything I’ve done, but I will do my penance, Louis. I’ll crawl back to you and beg if I must, I’m not above that.”

Louis can’t help but crack a smile, turning his head so Lestat doesn’t see it. He remembers well enough all the times Lestat would mess up and then pathetically pamper Louis with gifts, hoping that Louis would give in and take him into his arms again. And Louis would—every time—because he too can’t stand to be away from Lestat, no more than he can stand to be near him sometimes.

Suddenly, his thoughts drift to Paris and the smile fades from his face.

“And Claudia?” Louis asks. “Do you forgive her too?”

Lestat moves then, walking closer to Louis, and sitting on the arm of the couch in front of him. He takes Louis’ hands in his, giving them a squeeze.

“Claudia broke my heart,” he answers, eyes misty. “I don’t blame her for what she did. She was like me, evil of my evil. I would have done the same.”

Louis breathes out. Lestat and Claudia were so similar, in ways that they refused to accept when they lived together. Louis started seeing it clearly during their last few years in New Orleans and he saw it better than ever in Paris. He used to look at Claudia and see Lestat behind her eyes, behind her actions. She was her father’s daughter through and through. It made everything so complicated that it strained their relationship further.

“It’s my fault,” Louis whispers. “She wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t taken her.”

Lestat furrows his brows, his face painted with sadness.

“You don’t know that, Louis. You can’t be certain of what would have happened.” He stands then, framing Louis’ face with his hands. “Our daughter was as stubborn as you are and as determined as me. Had you not gone with her, she would still have found a way of crossing the ocean, and we wouldn’t have been able to stop her. You protected her as much as you could. Some things were out of your hands.”

Louis shakes his head, not convinced. “If we hadn’t gone to Paris—”

“If, if if,” Lestat interrupts him firmly. “We can spend hours talking about all the different scenarios and how different things could have played out. If you hadn’t gone to Paris. If I had told you about the rules of making a child vampire. If I had told you about everything that European vampires are capable of. If I had come with you. If we had gone to Argentina.” He holds Louis’ gaze. “We cannot change the past. You did not kill her, Louis.”

“I could have prevented it.” Louis remembers Armand’s words. He circles his fingers around Lestat’s wrist to ground himself. “He could have prevented it. I would have switched places with her. It should have been me instead, never her.”

“You must stop torturing yourself,” Lestat says softly. “She wouldn’t have wanted that for you. She loved you.”

And—

Louis knows that she wouldn’t have wanted him to feel this way, but it doesn’t change anything. A part of him died with Claudia in Paris, leaving an emptiness in him that will never be filled again.

Louis feels the tears gathering in his eyes as he looks at Lestat. For Claudia. For Paris. For New Orleans. For the past eighty years. His head feels like it’s going to explode at any moment—his brain is constantly running, never quieting enough for him to just be. Louis craves five minutes of peace.

“Come here.” 

Lestat pulls him into an embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and Louis melts into it once more. He’s missed this touch, the comfort it brings him, the feeling of protection he gets when Lestat is close. This is what he’s been lacking all these decades, this is why he’s been feeling so utterly incomplete, even when Claudia was still alive, even with Armand.

Louis doesn’t let go of Lestat and Lestat doesn’t make any move to step away either. They hold each other for what feels like both minutes and hours, until Louis’ hunger gets the best out of him and forces him to reluctantly untangle himself from Lestat.

Later that night, Lestat stares daggers at the man sitting next to Louis.

There’s a murderous look on his face as if it takes all his will to restrain himself, his nails digging into his own arms to stop himself from jumping across the table and tearing the man’s limbs off his body.

Louis hadn’t thought about this not so subtle detail when he mentioned he was hungry. Lestat had expected Louis to walk out the door into the warmth of the night, but was taken aback when Louis said there was no need. The food comes to him now. Willingly.

Lestat tensed when the man arrived, his face turning into a stone mask, unsure of what was happening as he watched Louis ask his guest about his day and gesturing for him to sit. Lestat’s jaw clenched when Louis lightly tapped the man’s neck and leaned in. 

Louis can’t see him from this angle but he can feel the intensity of his eyes on them.

“Are you like him?” the man asks Lestat in a thick Russian accent, clearly entranced by the vampire in front of him. “You drink blood too?”

“Would you like to find out?” Lestat asks through gritted teeth, voice vicious and filled with anger.

Louis wipes his mouth with a napkin and taps the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Damek. You may go now.”

Damek stands, his knees wobbling a little as he steadies himself with a hand on the table.

“Should I help you out?” Lestat offers, tilting his head slightly like a starved predator eyeing its prey after months of surviving on scraps. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Lestat,” Louis warns. Lestat shifts his eyes from Damek to Louis and he crosses his arms, huffing loudly but backing down. As if Louis hadn’t sensed his displeasure yet.

When Damek is safely out of the penthouse, Louis turns his attention back to Lestat, raising an eyebrow in silent questioning.

“I don’t know how I feel about you feeding from humans and then letting them walk out unharmed.”

“I think your reaction tells me enough,” Louis says. He raises his hands. “I’m drinking human blood. I thought you would be happy about that.”

“You’re not draining them,” Lestat says flatly. “You’re giving them pleasure and letting them live. And this one looks like he knows you a little too well.”

“And what if he does?”

No answer. Lestat simply glares at him with bloodshot eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Louis bites the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling. He stands up, slowly walking around the table.

“You’re jealous?”

Lestat glances away, swallowing hard.

“Tell me.” Louis leans against the table, right in front of Lestat. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Lestat hisses, looking back at Louis. 

“Did you want to hurt him?”

“One second longer and I would have ripped his head off.” Lestat pushes himself off the wall and moves closer, standing between Louis’ parted legs. “Whose idea was it?”

“To use blood donors?” Louis uses his hands to anchor himself and sit on the table, trapping Lestat between his legs. “Armand.”

Lestat makes a displeased sound. “Of course.”

“It works,” Louis says. “It’s a compromise. I’m getting what I need to stay energised without murdering people. It’s either this or just animals.”

Both suggestions seem to be equally painful for Lestat but he doesn’t push it.

“And where is Armand?” His smile has a mix of anticipation and cheekiness behind it. Louis is not sure if he likes it. “I'm looking forward to our reunion.”

“With Daniel,” Louis says. “I’m not sure when he’s coming back.” If he’s coming back at all. Most likely he will; Armand cares about Louis too much and had been reluctant to leave, but Louis convinced him that he needed some time to process all the feelings and memories that the interview stirred. He could also tell that Armand didn’t want to part ways with Daniel so suddenly either. It’s a decision that benefits them both.

“Who is Daniel?”

“An old friend.” Louis is not sure how Lestat will react when he finds out about the interview, assuming he doesn’t somehow know about it already. He always seems to have his way of finding out things that Louis tries to hide. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Why not now?”

Louis runs a finger down Lestat’s chest, stopping just above the waistband of his trousers. “We were talking about your jealousy.”

“What else is there to say about that?” Lestat grips Louis’ thighs and Louis flares up inside.

“You know there have been others after you, don’t you?” Louis continues, watching with delight the change in Lestat’s eyes, hot fury behind them as he tries to remain composed. “Yes, I got to experience quite a lot while you were asleep. A lot. The seventies, especially, were a really good time. You would have enjoyed it, I’m sure. I know I did.”

“Louis, you’re being cruel.” Lestat’s voice shakes, barely containing how much Louis’ words affect him.

“Am I?” He feigns ignorance, tilting his head in innocence. He can hear the wild drum of Lestat’s heart this close and he revels in it. “I’m just telling you about my life while we were apart. Don’t you want to know how it was for me?”

“I never want to hear about you being with others.” Lestat’s hands on Louis’ thighs tighten and Louis has to bite his tongue to contain a moan of pleasure. “I don’t want to think about anyone else touching or kissing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me feel sick to my core,” Lestat answers honestly. Louis remembers Lestat’s reaction to his brief encounter with Jonah. The blazing jealousy he tried and failed to hide, only to explode in a fit of rage the following night. “It makes me see red, to know there are others who had even a sliver of your attention and your touch when you’re—”

“When I’m what?” Louis holds Lestat by the waist and leans closer, his eyes shifting to Lestat’s lips and then back to his eyes. “Yours?”

Lestat swallows, his pupils dilating, eyes fully black.

“I’m not sure I am anymore,” Louis whispers, brushing his lips against Lestat’s. “Am I?”

Lestat snarls and grabs Louis by the back of his neck, crashing their mouths together. Their noses bump and their teeth clash and Louis feels a pang of pain coursing through his face, but he pays it no mind, too focused on the relief and joy of finally having Lestat’s lips on his again. He wraps his legs around Lestat and pulls the blond close as he pushes his tongue into his mouth and licks into it. 

A moan escapes his lips, fiery passion and decades of longing being poured into the kiss. Louis could never forget the softness of Lestat’s lips, the feel of his tongue, the amount of feelings he pours into every kiss, and the way he holds Louis like he needs every inch of their bodies to touch so it feels complete. Every kiss felt like the first one between them, and every time Louis lost himself in it completely. Time has not changed a thing.

“Bedroom,” Louis manages to say in between kisses.

Lestat doesn’t need to be told twice; he holds the back of Louis’ thighs and carries him to the bedroom, and Louis feels stupidly giddy with the action. They fall on the bed, a mess of tangled limbs, hands grabbing at their clothes to tear the offending fabrics off until they’re fully naked.

Louis stills, hovering over Lestat and looking down at his body. He runs a hand down Lestat’s chest, over his defined abs, and down to his thigh, feeling the firm, soft skin—a little different to that of a human, and so much better. He replaces his hand with his mouth, dropping kisses on Lestat’s collarbone, over his sternum, trailing down to his navel, feeling Lestat’s breathing quicken with every touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Louis whispers, hooking an arm under Lestat’s thigh and kissing the inside of it. His teeth graze the skin and he sucks hard enough for the blood to rush to the spot, a soft gasp escaping Lestat’s lips as Louis licks it, already mourning how quickly it will heal and return to normal. It’s fine, he’ll just have to do it again. 

Lestat looks at Louis the whole time and then pulls him up for another kiss, slower this time as if they’re taking a moment to sear it into their memories, as if they’re remembering how it used to be. As if Louis could ever forget.

“Let me have you,” Louis says against Lestat’s lips, and he feels the blond nodding eagerly, his hands gripping Louis’ sides.

Louis blindly reaches out to the bedside table, opening a drawer and fumbling inside in search of a bottle. He sits up, smiling when Lestat leans closer to continue kissing his jaw and then his chest, trying to keep his mouth on Louis’ skin, savouring every inch he can touch. Louis nearly gets distracted, still in search of the bottle, losing himself in the feel of Lestat’s mouth. 

He manages to grab what he’s searching for, and gently pushes Lestat to lie back so he can slick his fingers. Lestat parts his legs, without having to be asked, and Louis places one hand on his inner thigh, the other lightly brushing over Lestat’s cock, enough to get a reaction out of the other vampire who tries to lift his hips for more. Louis doesn’t let him, firmly holding his thigh, and Lestat obeys.

Louis’ finger circles Lestat’s entrance, sliding in with a little resistance. He watches as Lestat’s face changes ever so slightly, and then Louis adds a second finger, slowly opening him up. Lestat, impatient as ever, pushes against Louis, trying to get him to move faster.

“Don’t tease,” Lestat whines, pouting just a little. “You know I’m not going to break.”

“I know, baby.” Louis moves his fingers, feeling the muscle stretch around him. “I want to take my time.”

“Is eighty years not long enough for you?”

Louis curls his fingers and Lestat gasps, tipping his head back, mouth open, and looking pleased with a small smirk on his lips. More beautiful than Louis remembered.

This was always Louis’ favourite thing to do—tease Lestat until he was begging for it, making him a babbling mess in the process.

“Look at you,” Louis says, his eyes travelling down Lestat’s body, enjoying every little reaction. “Barely touched you and you’re already wet for me.” Louis is not much different, feeling his cock throbbing between his legs.

“I could never resist you.” Lestat reaches down to grab Louis’ hand, his eyes pleading silently for more. “Was it not obvious, the way I used to run after you like a famished animal?”

Louis removes his fingers, grabbing the bottle again and slicking himself as Lestat watches his every movement, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Did you use to read my thoughts when I was still human?” Louis asks, shuffling closer and brushing his cock against Lestat’s entrance. He already knows the answer. “You had to know how much I wanted you.”

“Louis,” Lestat whispers as if suddenly transported to those early days. Louis used to imagine bending Lestat over a park bench during their late night strolls. He used to imagine Lestat shoving him against the front door of the townhouse and fucking him against it, Louis’ legs wrapped tightly around his waist. And the whole time, Lestat could see those thoughts as he talked to Louis about home decorations and brand new suits. “It used to drive me mad. Having to restrain myself when I knew you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

Louis pushes in, unable to look away, feeling Lestat envelop him with his warmth.

“I used to run back home and fuck my fist after every night we spent together.” Louis bottoms out and holds still, adjusting to tightness around him. Lestat lets out a sound, a response to Louis’ words and the feeling of fullness. “Close my eyes and imagine it was your hand or your mouth.”

Louis tentatively moves and then Lestat loops a leg around his waist, turning Louis on his back in an instant, and sinking down onto him. Lestat moves his hips, anchoring himself with a hand on Louis’ chest. It feels too good for Louis to protest the sudden change in position.

“I would have given you anything,” Lestat says, his voice deep. “I was desperate for you to ask, desperate for you to do something.”

“And didn’t it feel good, when it finally happened?” The months of build up had made everything so much sweeter and intense. The petit coup had made it explosive.

“Yes,” Lestat breathes out, a response to the question and the reactions Louis is getting out of his body.

Louis holds him tightly, Lestat moving in time with his thrusts. He watches the way Lestat’s abs become prominent with every movement, the way he drops his head back, mouth agape as he rides Louis. 

“This always drove me crazy,” Louis gasps. “This waist of yours. So perfect.” His hands stroke Lestat’s midriff, so slim that Louis could easily hold it with just one arm. He can’t wait to get his mouth on it again and worship it the way he used to, until Lestat is grinding against him in search for more. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of Lestat’s body, but then again Louis would happily spend hours admiring every inch of him—and he has done it, many a time. 

Lestat looks at Louis through hooded eyes, slowing down his movements to give him more of a show, and it takes all of Louis’ will to not come just like this. He straightens up, going for a kiss, and Lestat eagerly opens up for him, humming happily against Louis’ lips as his arms circle Louis’ shoulders to pull him impossibly close, their chests touching.

Their movements slow down as they lose themselves in one another, connected in every way with barely an inch of space between them. Louis had always loved it when they ended up like this, with a lack of urgency and completely enamoured with each other, the world slowing down around them. It’s intense and intimate and perfect. He would be stuck in this passionate embrace forever if he could.

“You feel so good,” Lestat pants. And Lestat looks like a picture of sin with his shiny red lips as he looks at Louis with dark eyes, in absolute awe. Louis had always felt shy under that gaze, wondering how someone could look at him like that, as if he’s being worshipped. “It always feels so good with you.”

Louis goes deeper, an arm around Lestat’s waist and a hand grabbing his thigh, and he brushes over the right spot, driving a low moan out of Lestat, his back arching in response to the touch. Louis smiles, licking into Lestat’s mouth and swallowing the sounds coming out of the other vampire, their tongues sliding together.

There is nothing but pleasure and desire coursing through his veins; being with Lestat, seeing his reactions to every touch, hearing the sounds he makes, and the way he makes Louis feel. No one had ever come close to this. No one ever could.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers against Lestat’s lips as he goes for another open mouthed kiss. “Yeah, you were made for me. You are mine.”

Lestat growls in response, nails digging into Louis’ shoulders as he shoves his tongue in Louis’ mouth, their kisses turning heated to the point of pain, and Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. This had always been their common language, where they were always on par.

“I missed you so much,” Louis gasps, feeling Lestat’s arms tightening around him, relishing in the reminder that Louis still desires and wants him with a desperate, burning hunger. He trails kisses over Lestat’s face, his jaw, and then noses at his neck, breathing him in. “Les—”

“Yes,” Lestat gasps, holding the back of Louis’ neck. “Please.”

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He opens his mouth and pierces the skin with his fangs, moaning when the taste of Lestat’s blood hits his tongue. It hits him like a wave; the outpouring of pure, raw devotion from Lestat towards Louis. It’s love, awe, tenderness, and warmth rolled into this intimacy. Images of their happy past together coming in waves.

Louis lies back, pulling Lestat down with him, and cradling Lestat’s head to guide him towards his own neck, hoping that Lestat senses the same emotions bleeding out of him. 

This—this feels like home. It took him over eighty years but he’s finally returned to his favourite place.

The sweet, steady build up runs hot as his hips speed up. There’s blood still in his mouth when he pulls back from Lestat’s neck and looks up at his lover, a quiet exchange between them when they lock eyes. Lestat doesn’t hesitate and joins their mouths once more, the blood flowing from his mouth into Louis’, mixing together with his own—him and Lestat joined in every sense of the word—and Louis feels electricity coursing through his veins.

Lestat squeezes around Louis’ cock and then he’s coming, barely touching himself, his head buried in the crook of Louis’ neck as Louis keeps moving inside him, unable to last much longer himself, not when Lestat looks utterly wrecked and gone. It’s with Lestat’s name on his lips that Louis throws his head back and a rush of pleasure takes over him, spilling inside Lestat.

They bask in the afterglow, their breathing steadying as they come down from their high. Lestat gently lifts his hips, letting Louis slip out of him, and shuffles to lie next to him, one of his hands resting on Louis' chest as he looks at Louis with an expression of wonder. Louis can’t stop himself from leaning forward and capturing his lips in a soft, much gentler kiss, pouring his heart into it. 

When he pulls back, Lestat’s eyes are still closed and he slowly opens them with a small smile on his face.

“Your heart still beats for me,” Lestat whispers, his thumb stroking Louis’ peck.

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

“Always,” Louis says quietly, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on Lestat’s skin. “No one else could ever come close.” 

And there are layers to this that go beyond what they’ve just experienced physically. Because Lestat had crawled into his rib cage a century ago and made himself a home in Louis’ heart and nothing could tear him away from it. Louis doesn’t need to say it, he knows Lestat understands the meaning well enough.

Louis rests his head on Lestat’s shoulder, and feels a kiss being pressed on his forehead, a content sigh escaping his lips.

Louis stands in the reading room, looking at the magnolia tree, the artificial white light shining on its flowers, and the earth that sustains it covered by the pebbles. He has spent countless nights looking at the tree, waiting to feel something, and to this day his feelings remain the same. Complicated.

He had been told that the flowers represent luck and stability. Truth be told, Louis isn’t sure if he’s been getting much of that over the past few decades. There is a sort of stability, he reckons, if he can even call it that—a monotonous life with no excitement. But that was partly what Louis wanted, after everything he had gone through during his existence as a vampire. Paris had been his tipping point, after losing Claudia, and Louis knew he couldn’t carry on with his search for adventure or answers any longer. He just wanted to stop.

He contemplated an ending multiple times. Still does. 

He worries at his bottom lip, anticipating a conversation that he knows has to happen soon, the nerves starting to get to him.

Louis feels two arms circle his waist and he leans into the touch, his hands coming to rest on top of Lestat’s, an immediate smile spreading on his lips as he closes his eyes.

Luck.

“You’re shaking, mon cœur,” Lestat says quietly as if he’s trying not to disturb Louis. He props his chin on Louis’ shoulder and holds him tighter.

Louis can’t blame it on the cold, not when they’re in Dubai of all places, so he turns his head and kisses Lestat’s face, allowing himself a few more minutes to enjoy this touch that he’s craved for decades. 

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He feels Lestat tense and Louis grips his arm so he doesn’t panic.

“Should I be concerned?” A moment of silence stretches between them, only driving the other vampire to become more restless. “Louis.”

“Let’s go sit somewhere.”

Louis can feel the worry radiating from Lestat as they head to the living room. It’s in moments like this that he wishes they could read each other’s thoughts. It would make everything so much easier.

“I mentioned someone called Daniel last night,” Louis starts, tapping the couch so Lestat sits close to him.

“Yes,” Lestat says, apprehensive. His body deflates a little and when he speaks next he does his best to sound nonchalant. He fails miserably and Louis finds it ridiculously endearing. “Is he your—” He gestures with a hand, hoping that Louis will fill in the blanks.

“Can’t even say it,” Louis teases, biting his lip and failing to hide a smile. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s something like a friend, I would say.”

Lestat breathes a sigh of relief. “Like a friend, but not entirely a friend?”

Louis hums. “I met him in a bar in the seventies—”

“In a bar in the seventies,” Lestat repeats flatly. “The seventies you enjoyed so much.”

“Correct,” Louis continues, ignoring the look he gets. Part of him can’t wait to keep teasing Lestat about this. Not now, though. “Daniel is a reporter. At the time, he was a struggling reporter looking for stories. He liked to interview interesting people, that’s what he told me. After a quick chat, he decided he wanted to interview me.”

Lestat looks wary.

“So I offered to tell him my life story.”

“You did what?” Lestat’s eyes widen, not quite believing the words that just came out of Louis’ mouth.

“I told him, Lestat.” Louis lifts his hand in a gesture. “I was still angry and bitter at the time, and I didn’t give a shit about any consequences. When I finished my story, everything from the moment I met you to the burning of the theatre, he begged me to make him a vampire.”

“You didn’t. Louis, tell me you didn’t do it.”

“No,” Louis confirms. “After everything I told him, that was all he cared about. The power. Living forever. He disregarded everything that I had been through. All the reasons he shouldn’t want it. He was disrespectful and in my fury I attacked him.”

“But he’s still alive.”

“He is.” Louis nods. “Armand was there and saved him. Those two had an instant connection when they met. Had it been any other person, Armand would not have cared, but something about Daniel spoke to him.”

“Armand saved a mortal?” Lestat’s brows furrow. “You’re saying that he cared about Daniel?”

“Cares,” Louis corrects. “After that night, Armand became obsessed with him. Used to follow Daniel around the world to get to know him—everything that he did and liked and didn’t like and thoughts on the modern world, you name it. A year into it and they had fallen in love.”

The expression on Lestat’s face makes Louis crack a smile. Disbelief and shock.

“I know,” Louis says. “Armand in love with a mortal, imagine my surprise. But Daniel still wanted to become a vampire, begged at any given chance, and Armand refused every time because he loved Daniel too much to bring him into this darkness. Armand would rather have died than do that to him. In the middle of everything, Daniel was also married to a woman and expecting their first daughter. When it became too much, Armand wiped his memories of their time together and left. He wanted Daniel to have a shot at a happy life and he didn’t want to be a barrier to it.”

Lestat takes a moment to digest the information. “Last night you told me Armand is with Daniel right now.”

“Ah.” Louis crosses his leg over his knee and rests his hands on it. “That brings us to the present.”

Lestat nods for Louis to continue.

“The tapes from our interview remained just that. Recordings of a conversation that no one but the three of us had access to. Armand and I followed Daniel’s career with great interest. He did quite well, in the end, but has currently settled for teaching online classes on journalism. Needless to say that it’s not what excites him. 

“On a personal level, Daniel has Parkinson’s disease and his health is deteriorating. After several long conversations with Armand, we decided to invite him over. A chance for a second interview and a chance to receive the best treatment for his condition.”

“Armand is concerned with his health.”

“Yes. He never stopped caring about Daniel.”

“As curious as I am about the relationship between Armand and Daniel, I’m more interested in how this relates to you.” Lestat leans closer. “Did you give him the interview?”

“Yes,” Louis confirms. “Forty-nine years have passed since we met and I wanted to share a more honest recounting of events. I wasn’t very kind or accurate the first time, you see. Especially when it came to you.”

Lestat glances down but nods in understanding.

“Daniel is at a point in his life where he has nothing to lose. His questions, doubts, the way he picked my tale apart made me realise that there are things I was misremembering. But it was so cathartic, getting it all out when I had kept so much bottled up for so long. It was eating me inside.” Louis purses his lips. “One of the good things that came out of it was finding out you’re alive. Armand admitted it when we got that part of the story. The burning of the theatre.” He looks away from Lestat then. “And now it’s done.”

Lestat looks at Louis, not uttering a word for several moments. With each passing second, Louis feels the tension build up, unsure of what is going to hit him next.

“What are you trying to achieve with this interview, Louis?” It’s a calmer response than what Louis anticipated but there is an unmistakable weight to Lestat’s voice. 

“I don’t know,” Louis answers. He raises his shoulders in a small shrug, looking back at Lestat. “To see if other vampires react to it. To see if humans believe what I have to say or if they’ll just think it’s fiction. To feel something.”

“To feel something,” Lestat echoes. His face falls and he shuffles closer, a hand coming to rest on top of Louis’. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Louis?”

Louis is shaking again. He turns his hand so he can grip Lestat’s tightly.

“I don’t think I can endure any longer.”

Louis has never seen Lestat’s face twist with so much sorrow and agony before. It’s worse, he remembers, than the night Louis slit his throat, standing on that balcony and silently begging for another chance.

“I had no will to live after my brother died. If you hadn’t shown up that night—I wouldn’t be here right now, let’s just say that. You made things a little better back then, you truly did. You gave me love and you gave me Claudia, and it was good until it all fell apart. I thought Paris would be the beginning of something better, and it was for a short while, or at least I deluded myself into thinking it was. Obviously, I grossly underestimated how much worse everything could get.”

He pauses for a second. 

“I lost my husband first.” He caresses Lestat’s cheek, noticing the way Lestat’s eyes flutter at the touch. “Then I lost our daughter. I had long lost my entire mortal family by then. And I couldn’t be in a relationship with Armand any longer. It was time for me to break away from that and be my own person for a while. But the truth is that without him I wouldn’t be here either. He refused to leave my side, even if he was only there as a friend, a companion, and because he needed me too. Armand has looked after me all these years but this—what I’m living—it’s not a life.

“I’ve become numb, Lestat. There is nothing to keep me going any longer. If the book is published and it angers other vampires, I’m ready to welcome them, whatever the outcome is. I deserve it for everything I’ve done. Let them destroy me. Eternity is not for me.”

Lestat’s eyes fill with tears and, in the silence of the night, Louis can hear his companion heart pounding.

“No,” Lestat says, his voice tight. He slides off the couch and kneels in front of Louis, clasping Louis’ hands tightly. “Louis, this is madness. You are burdening yourself with things that were out of your hands. I know there is nothing harder than living through a thousand lifetimes and suffering through thousands of heartaches, but we can still find happiness in the midst of it all.”

“I’m not sure I still believe that,” Louis says. “You chose the weakest human to be your companion, Lestat. I was never meant for this.”

“That’s not true. Do you think a weak one would have gone through everything you went through and still be here? You would be surprised at how many fledglings destroy themselves so early on.” Lestat hesitates, his gaze distant for a moment as if he’s been transported somewhere else. “You are not weak, Louis. I have seen your strength time and time again.”

“You don’t know how much I want to believe that.”

“Then let me help you. Let me be there for you.” Lestat brings Louis’ hand to his chest, holding it so Louis can feel his frantic heartbeat, so he can sense the panic Lestat is feeling at the thought of losing Louis forever. “Give me a chance to prove to you that there are things worth living for. To prove that all of this was not in vain.”

Louis swallows. A century ago, Lestat had begged him for a similar chance in a destroyed church. Louis doesn’t regret his decision for one second. He doesn’t regret all the good times he lived through afterwards, all the good things he had, and all the beautiful things he saw, but the despair and painful memories overwhelm him.

“Let me be there for you and help you drown that sorrow. I know how much it pains you, I’ve felt it too.” Lestat’s voice wavers. “I won’t let you go through what I’ve been through.”

There are layers to that sentence that Louis wants to dive into. It feels like a deeper understanding of Lestat is hidden in it.

“Lestat,” Louis whispers, his free hand cupping Lestat’s face.

“Give me a chance and if you decide that it’s still not worth it then I’ll hold your hand and we’ll walk out into the sun together.” Fat, red tears run down Lestat’s cheek. “Please stay with me, Louis. You are so loved. You can’t begin to imagine the magnitude of my love for you. I’ll do everything I can to bring you a sliver of happiness again, whatever it takes.”

Louis’ vision blurs with his tears. He has felt more emotions in this short time with Lestat than he did since Paris. Louis doesn’t think that Lestat’s presence alone will mend his broken soul like magic, especially if their past relationship is anything to go by. He doesn’t think that anyone could heal him. What Louis does know is that he never feels more complete than when he’s with Lestat. If they were to build something together—something new, based on trust and love—then Louis is willing to give it a chance. A chance on them and, most importantly, himself. A new beginning.

“Please,” Lestat whispers, so much desperation carried in a single word, so much agony painting his face.

Louis nods slowly, clutching Lestat’s shirt, and Lestat’s face flashes with hope.

“Your powers of persuasion are as strong as ever,” Louis says, with a barely there, timid smile.

“Is that a yes?” Lestat’s eyes plead with him, and, really, it isn’t fair how heartbreakingly beautiful he looks when he’s like this. No wonder Louis could rarely say no to him.

“Yes,” Louis whispers and bends down for a kiss, a soft touch of lips that has Lestat straightening up to draw it out.

“I won’t let any harm come to you,” Lestat promises. “If you truly want this book to be published—whatever happens after, I will never let anyone hurt you.”

Louis’ lips tremble with emotion. “You won’t leave me?”

“You think I would? Never, Louis.” Lestat shakes his head, his hands coming up to frame Louis’ face, looking at him with so much affection. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

Louis’ heart feels like it’s going to burst. Abandonment was always one of Louis’ biggest fears, especially when their relationship started to crumble. Then Louis had been the one to leave, to betray Lestat. And yet, Lestat had crossed the world to find Louis mere days after waking up from a slumber. Louis thinks that has to count for something.

Louis strokes Lestat’s cheekbone with his thumb, gently wiping away the blood. He wants to crawl under Lestat’s skin and stay there, knowing that he’s safe and cared for.

“I love you, too.”

It feels so good to say it, finally, after years of only being able to say it in his head, too scared to voice it out loud. He’s proud to accept and declare his love. Relieved to have the opportunity to do it after he spent so much time believing he had lost it all.

It’s worth it for all those reasons, and for the smile that spreads across Lestat’s face. Louis reciprocates it and leans for another kiss.

“Come up here.”

Louis tugs Lestat until he’s sitting next to him. He throws his legs over Lestat’s lap and leans on his chest, resting his head on Lestat’s shoulder. Lestat’s arms surround him, comfortably tight, and Louis exhales slowly.

They settle in comfortable silence, until their heartbeats settle and sync once again, the sound like a sweet melody that relaxes Louis. He feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders to an extent. He doesn’t expect to wake up the following night magically healed from a depression he’s been living with for years, but he has something positive to look forward to. A light at the end of the tunnel.

“I do not like this place,” Lestat declares some time later. “There is barely any colour in here, the furniture is uncomfortable and scarce. And don’t get me started on that reading room of yours.”

Louis snorts. “How long have you been holding that in?”

“Since I first stepped in here.”

“What’s wrong with the reading room?” Louis has his own issues with it but he wants to hear Lestat’s thoughts.

“It’s artificial, like the rest of the house. Like this entire city. The tree doesn’t give it any life. It’s out of place, the roots are covered with pebbles and the sunlight is mimicked by that large, white lamp. It’s like a mockery. I also noticed you have a single chair without a backrest. Do you sit there often?”

“Sometimes.”

“It can’t be comfortable. Have you done this on purpose? Is this one of the ways you’ve found to punish yourself?”

“Armand and the interior decorator took care of everything.” Louis shrugs. “I don’t care much for any of it.” Physical comfort was the last thing on Louis’ mind.

“It’s the opposite of our house,” Lestat says, rubbing Louis’ arm. “We made it a home, you and I. Do you remember how you helped me pick everything before you moved in?”

Louis smiles, his fingers stroking Lestat’s knuckles. “You were asking me for ideas so that it would be mine as much as it was yours. Very subtle of you.”

“I was hopeful,” Lestat admits. “It was full of colour, and it was comfortable and cosy, was it not? Those soft couches, the bookcases filled with your books, my piano, our bed.”

“Our home,” Louis whispers, suddenly feeling nostalgic as he often does when he thinks about it. “I miss it.”

“I can fix it for you,” Lestat says. “Get it exactly as it used to be, or more modern if you prefer. You just have to say the word. And if not, we can go somewhere else. Anywhere in the world, it’s your choice.”

Louis ponders the offer. He doesn’t think he has the courage to set foot in Paris again, so that’s definitely out of the question for now. Europe had not been kind to him in general, and Dubai is empty. New Orleans is the only place that was ever home to him.

He thinks back to the flight he never booked.

“Let me think about it?”

“Of course,” Lestat says, bringing Louis’ hand to his lips. “Take all the time you need.”

A few nights later, Louis finds Lestat on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking into the distance. The city lights cast a dim glow on his face, highlighting his features like he’s something out of a painting.

Lestat turns to Louis, holding out a pack of cigarettes, and Louis can’t resist the temptation. He pulls one out, places it between his lips and leans towards Lestat who mimics his action. The tips of their cigarettes touch and Louis sucks in, watching it light up on his end. Lestat’s eyes are on him the whole time and Louis meets his intense gaze before pulling away.

The last time he had lit a cigarette in a similar manner had been on the night of the ball. There is a special kind of intimacy to it that he didn’t care to find with anyone else. From that night on, he always relied on the lighter he carried with him.

“Armand called,” Louis announces.

“Did he?” Lestat tilts his head and blows out smoke, Louis’ eyes drawn to the shape of his lips.

“Yes,” Louis says. “He wanted to know how I’m doing.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth. That I’m better than when he left.” Louis doesn’t miss the way Lestat’s lips change into a soft smile.

“Does he know I’m here?”

“He does.” Louis takes a drag off his cigarette, eyes trained on Lestat. “I didn’t tell him. He seemed to know before I could even think of mentioning it.”

Lestat hums. “He knew I would come as soon as he told me where you were.”

Louis hadn't brought up the specifics during the call and neither had Armand. Part of him wonders if this could be Armand’s way of correcting some of the choices he had made in the past, an unspoken truce for everything that had gone wrong, and a way to honour the love they had for each other, changed with time. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it too much; the answers will come at some point.

“You’ll be pleased to know that he’s also looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Of course he is.” Lestat laughs and then looks over the railing, seeming to observe the street down below. “The little Botticelli demon. He’s probably wondering how much damage I can sustain if he throws me off the balcony.”

“Or are you the one wondering how to catch him off guard and throw him off?”

“Louis.” Lestat’s eyes widen and his head tilts slightly as if he finds the idea delightful. “You are giving me ideas.”

“Should I be worried?” Louis asks, amused. “I can’t figure out if you’ll kill or hug each other.”

“It could go either way, love.” Lestat stubs and discards his cigarette on an ashtray. “Best prepare for the worst, just in case.”

Louis raises an eyebrow but Lestat just laughs, pulling him in by the waist.

“When is he coming?”

“Whenever I want him to.” Louis strokes Lestat’s arm. “Told him I’m a little busy at the moment.” The answer seems to please Lestat, evident from the way his face lights up.

“Well,” Lestat says, his tone becoming slightly more serious, a little cautious. “In the meantime, I was wondering if you want to wander the streets of this city with me. I’ve been here a few nights and I’m yet to see you leave the flat.”

Louis glances away, watching the skyscrapers in the distance. “I do leave sometimes. I’m not a total recluse if that’s what you’re thinking.” It’s the truth. Unlike Lestat, Louis no longer hunts humans, and he can get everything he needs from the comfort of his flat. The wonders of the twenty-first century. He’s not opposed to leaving the penthouse, he just chooses not to.

“You used to love the nightlife of New Orleans.”

“Yes, but we’re far away from New Orleans.” Louis shrugs. “I had businesses to run and keep me busy. There’s not a whole lot that gets me excited out there.”

“I can understand that. But would you indulge me? A short stroll nearby? Like old times.”

Louis tilts his head, pretending to be deep in thought. “What do I get in return?”

“If my company isn’t enough,” Lestat starts in faux indignation, “then I can think of other ways.” His hand trails from Louis’ waist to settle on his lower back.

“Anything I want?” Louis asks with a small smirk.

“Anything you want,” Lestat whispers.

Louis bites his lip and nods. “Let’s go.”

The journals are spread on the table, carefully handled to avoid damaging the spine of the oldest ones. Some of the pages had started to split from the spine at one point but had since been repaired. Louis treats them like they’re precious artefacts—and they are, to him. He’s spent so many nights reading and rereading the passages that he can recite most of them from memory. 

Some he’d only had the courage to read once, the words too painful for him to digest, but there are many he keeps coming back to, as if seeing pieces of his life from someone else’s perspective validates what he wants to hold on to dearly. As if the words confirm that some of the best years of his life truly existed and he hadn’t been deluding himself at the time.

In the midst of his recollection, Louis knows he’s being watched, but the usual dread that fills him is gone and replaced by tranquillity.

“You’re staring, my love.”

A beat.

“I find myself mesmerised by your beauty,” Lestat says as he pushes himself off the doorframe he’s leaning against, and makes his way towards Louis. “How is it that you’ve become more magnificent over the years?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to court me again,” Louis says. “You already have me, remember?”

“And if you think that will stop me from admiring you and expressing how enamoured I am with you then you are sorely mistaken.” Lestat places his hands on the edge of the table and leans over it to kiss Louis. His voice is lower when he speaks next. “You bewitched me from the moment I first saw you. Nothing has changed.”

Louis smiles, brushing his lips against Lestat’s and pecking him softly, heart near fluttering in his chest.

Back when he was still human, if anyone had ever told him that it was possible to feel this strongly for someone and have his feelings reciprocated he would have laughed. Louis had never been a huge believer in love which, frankly, was deeply rooted in how repressed he was. Hard not to have been given how his sexuality was viewed by society in those times.

And then Lestat had to swoop in and turn his life around in every imaginable way.

Getting to live an unnaturally long life also means that Louis saw changes in society that finally led him to embrace and accept who he is. There are some positives to being a vampire, he supposes.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says. An understatement, for sure, but Louis knows better than to feed Lestat’s ego too much. He likes to savour the occasional moments of genuine surprise when he compliments Lestat. It doesn’t mean Louis is not constantly admiring him. “I want to show you something.”

“Has it got anything to do with these?” Lestat gestures to the table between them, a curious expression on his face. “What are they?”

“Have a look.”

Lestat turns his face so he can have a better view and his expression changes. He reaches out to stroke the cover of one of the journals and then looks back at Louis.

“Claudia’s diaries.”

Louis nods. “I thought you might like to read some of them, especially the first few for now. There will be time for you to read the rest later.”

“I see.” Lestat seems to contemplate, staring at the diaries as if they hold the power to physically hurt him. “Does she talk about how much of a monster I was?”

“Lestat,” Louis says gently, a pang of sadness hitting him when he notices how apprehensive Lestat is. “Will you trust me on this?”

Lestat thinks for a moment and then concedes. “Fine.” Louis smiles.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Louis says, starting to walk out of the room. “Come find me when you’re done.”

“Wait.” Lestat holds Louis' forearm. “Stay with me while I read.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

And Louis can’t refuse him.

Sitting at the table, Lestat places a hand on top of the leftmost diary, looking at it deep in thought. Then he shakes his head and picks it up, carefully opening Claudia’s very first diary, a gift from him.

From this angle, Louis can’t read her words, but his familiarity with the diaries means he knows exactly what passages Lestat is going through. In his mind, Louis is watching the events unfold alongside Lestat. He also notices the changes in Lestat’s expressions—a mix of amusement, surprise, confusion, among other emotions—as his eyes scan the pages.

There are passages that mention the three of them. 

The drive on the night of her first kill, when she immediately noticed the intimacy between Louis and Lestat and concluded that Lestat could hardly keep his hands off of Louis, even if it was just to brush his fingers along Louis’ arm.

There were the times she saw Lestat and Louis dancing, lost in each other’s eyes, their bodies moving in sync, always so connected. 

There was the bickering in French of which she understood nothing of in the beginning. 

There was the time she wanted to understand how love between two men worked and Louis had explained that it worked just like that—like love. 

There was—

“Louis, I knew we should have had her room ready much sooner than we did.” Lestat looks at Louis with a smirk. “She saw me get into your coffin a few too many times.”

“Don’t remind me.” Louis groans. “In retrospect, having sex with her coffin right next to us was not our smartest hour.”

“We were quiet as the grave.” Lestat had, surprisingly, been better at keeping the noise down than Louis. “For all she knew we were just sleeping. It does say here that you, and I quote, hated sleeping without me.” Not much has changed. I still do.

Lestat touches Louis’ cheek and Louis turns his head to kiss the inside of Lestat’s wrist.

“Keep reading.”

Lestat closes the first diary and sets it on the table, picking up the one next to it.

When Daniel was going through them, there was a diary that Armand had left in storage but Louis had found a few nights later. It’s one that would have given a more robust portrayal of the relationship between Lestat and Claudia; the missing pieces of the puzzle.

Claudia had been right in saying that theirs was a happy house. In those early years, she spent more time bonding with Lestat than what Louis had cared to reveal.

Lestat taught Claudia how to play the piano, sitting next to her and demonstrating simple melodies, gradually building up her confidence and her skills. She would get frustrated easily when she made a mistake, an obsessive pupil who refused to get off her seat until she got everything right. Lestat would watch her, nodding in approval, pleased with her dedication.

He taught her French as well after she insisted, frustrated from hearing Lestat and Louis whispering to each other in a foreign language. Lestat had been reluctant, knowing it was one of the few ways he could openly communicate with Louis without meddling ears, but had caved in the end, unable to say no to her when pouted and made eyes at him with all the innocence of a child. It had come in handy, years later, when Louis and Claudia found themselves in Paris.

Lestat also showered Claudia with gifts; everything from dresses to dolls to her beloved diaries. He would sit on the floor and let her braid his hair while Louis watched with a smile as she asked him dozens of questions, oblivious—or fully ignoring—how Lestat grew increasingly irritated. They would come back from their hunt late into the night, laughing together, as they spoke about their kills, their voices dying out when they stepped into the townhouse so that Louis wouldn’t have to hear about their human victims.

And here’s the thing: Claudia loved Lestat as much as she loved Louis. She might have referred to him as Uncle Les, might have had a stronger connection to Louis, but the way she described her moments with Lestat is enveloped with all the affection of one talking about a parent.

Their tumultuous relationship later clouded the good times; the love gave way to lack of trust and bitterness and hate. They had once relished in spending time together as a family, and later they would constantly fight for Louis’ attention. That didn’t erase the good moments they had shared.

The rest is history.

Lestat closes the diary, his thumb stroking the cover as he looks at it. 

Louis gives him time to take it all in, remembering how he had felt the first time he read her words. He wants Lestat to know that, in spite of the heartbreak and betrayal, Claudia cared for him and didn’t just see him as a monster. He had been genuinely important to her.

“We were happy, weren’t we?” Lestat asks quietly.

Louis slides his chair back, walking over to Lestat and taking the diary out of his hand to place it back on the table. He sits sideways on Lestat’s lap, snaking an arm around his shoulder.

“We were.” Louis uses a finger to turn Lestat’s face towards him. There’s sadness behind his red lined eyes that breaks Louis’ heart. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Where it all went wrong,” Lestat says, his voice hardly hiding the sorrow he feels. “We could spend hours arguing about it. Agreeing and disagreeing, but—”

“We can’t change the past,” Louis finishes for him, repeating Lestat’s words back to him. “But we’ll always have the good times, won’t we?”

“Yes.” A barely there hint of a smile graces his features. Then: “And the future?” 

“And the future.” Louis leans down and kisses his lips.

Healing is a long term journey. Truth be told, Louis hasn’t allowed himself to start the process, too enveloped in his own grief, finding comfort in the pain, to move forward. He thinks that, with Lestat by his side, they can help each other reach absolution.

They settle into a comfortable domesticity, not unlike their few years together but with palpable differences. There’s a better understanding between them now, an openness and willingness to talk that they had lost at one point in the past. A more overt way of showing they care.

That’s not to say that there aren’t things left to explore. Louis has yet to share more about his time in Europe, and Lestat is yet to reveal more about his own past, but there is time for them to talk. 

For now, Louis revels in the calmness and newfound bliss, not wanting to think about future challenges just yet.

“Must you always come in through the balcony?” Louis asks one night, lifting his eyes from the book he’s reading to watch as Lestat fumbles with the tablet to close the sliding door.

Lestat strides to the couch and drapes himself over it, resting his head on Louis’ lap. He’s warm from the recent kill.

“It’s fun, Louis. What’s the point of waiting for a lift when I’m much quicker than it?” Lestat asks, a smug grin on his face. “Although I do miss the simplicity of walking down the street, opening the door, and being home.”

Louis doesn’t argue with that.

Instead, he places a hand over Lestat’s chest and turns his attention back to his book. There’s music playing in the background, from one of Lestat’s favourite operas, and Louis feels relaxed in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

He gets through two full chapters before he’s setting down the book. Lestat hums quietly, his eyes closed and his fingers tapping the back of Louis’ hand in time with the music, happy to just be in Louis’ company. And it’s good when there’s no paranoia or fear that the other will leave, when they’re sure of each other’s feelings.

Louis threads his fingers through Lestat’s hair, gently massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers, and hears a soft hum of appreciation in response. He can’t look away from Lestat’s face, admiring the little details, the beauty his mind never let him forget. 

Louis remembers exactly how it felt when he and Claudia were going through their murder plot. Having to regain Lestat’s trust meant letting himself go completely; he doesn’t believe he ever stood a chance against falling in love with Lestat all over again. His heart never stopped belonging to Lestat, and there’s nothing that Louis could have ever done to break that connection, so tightly linked that not even time and distance could get in between. Every single cell in his body calls to Lestat down to the last atom.

It’s the type of all consuming love that withstands every battle thrown at them. 

Lestat opens his eyes and looks fondly at Louis, a tender smile gracing his features. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Louis answers without hesitation.

Lestat whispers a soft oh in complete awe. 

He looks at Louis for a long moment and then stands. Louis mourns the loss of his touch, face falling as he wonders if he said something wrong, but then Lestat is holding his hand and pulling him up. 

“Dance with me,” Lestat says as he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist.

“This sounds like an excuse to hold me.” Louis says through a smile, putting his arms around Lestat’s shoulders.

“Perhaps.” Lestat brushes his nose along Louis’ cheekbone, dropping a light kiss on it, and then pulls back slightly to look at Louis. “Did you mean what you said the other night?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Louis answers. “I’ve said a lot of things since you arrived.”

“Everything you said when you thought I wasn’t really here that first night,” Lestat clarifies, holding Louis’ gaze. “About missing and needing me. Not knowing what you are without me. Dreaming about me.”

Louis feels raw all of a sudden but doesn’t push it down as he once would have. Hearts out tonight.

“You have not left my mind once since that final night in New Orleans,” Louis tells him. “I struggled so much with everything that happened that I used to see you everywhere in Paris, like a haunting, as if you were following me around.”

“You must have hated me for that.”

“The opposite,” Louis corrects. “At one point it became a comfort. I realised that I wanted you alive more than anything and I desperately longed for your presence. Everything I said is true, Lestat. I meant every word. I need you more than I need blood.”

Lestat’s eyes soften, a soft exhale escaping his lips.

“Louis, I think we are destined to keep coming back to each other.” Lestat traces Louis’ cheek with his finger. “Mortals are lucky if they find a love like ours once in a lifetime. We get to live it for all eternity.” Louis places his hands on Lestat’s chest, emotion welling up inside him. “I want to be happy with you. And if, or when, we separate again I want to ache for you until I find myself in your embrace again, until I’m home. There is no one else I’d rather do this with. I want you, Louis. All of you, always.”

“It sounds like you’re proposing to me,” Louis says quietly, his voice wavering.

“Would it be fairer to call it a vow renewal?” Lestat asks timidly, a small smile on his lips.

“It can be both,” Louis says. His hands move to frame Lestat’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “And my answer will always be the same.”

“Which is?” Lestat asks, eyes hopeful.

“That you’re the love of my life,” Louis admits. “That I want everything you mentioned and more.”

Louis leans in, his eyes only closing when he feels Lestat’s lips on his. It’s gentle, without any sense of urgency behind it, as if they’re both trying to savour the weight of this moment, and what it means to both of them. And Louis feels happy, unable to stop himself from smiling into the kiss, no more than Lestat can as they start to pull back but then capture each other’s lips again and again.

“I am so feverishly in love with you,” Lestat says, resting his forehead on Louis’. “Louis, if only you knew.”

“I do know.” Louis feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin with the way his body is reacting, a rush of the senses that nearly has him dizzy. Sometimes he thinks that if his love for Lestat wasn’t so intense he would have been able to express it more freely in the past. “How could I not when I feel the same?”

Lestat looks at Louis like he’s a miracle, and Louis feels so much affection bleeding through that he has the urge to bury his face in the crook of Lestat’s neck lest he crumbles under his gaze. He fights against it, not wanting to miss a second of this feeling.

“Companion heart,” Lestat whispers. “It was always meant to be you.”

Louis smiles, and he finds an opening here to make a suggestion.

“I think,” he says, “that I’m ready to go back to New Orleans.”

“You are?” Lestat asks, surprised yet hopeful.

“Yes. I don’t know how it’s going to feel, being back there. There are too many memories tied to that city, some not so good.” He squeezes Lestat’s arm. “I don’t know how things will be when the book is published, or what challenges we’ll face, but right now it’s where I want to be. And if it doesn’t feel right, well, I’m sure we can think of something else.” He raises his eyebrows. “What do you say? Should we go home?”

“Louis.” Lestat beams, his eyes bright with excitement, and nodding in approval. “Yes. Yes, let’s do it.” He cups Louis’ face. “You must know, though, that as long as I am with you then I already am home.”

Louis feels a wave of warmth spreading inside him. There has to be something special about looking at his husband—his soulmate, his forever lover—and feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush for the first time.

“I love you,” Louis says, and the way Lestat visibly brightens at the words makes everything worth it. “Happiness looks good on you.”

“You have yourself to thank for that.” Lestat leans for another kiss and holds Louis just a little tighter. And it feels so good to be in his arms again that Louis could weep.

Louis basks in the warmth of Lestat’s touch and the hope he has, for the first time in a long time, for the future.