Chapter Text
The wind shook both the dilapidated New Orleans home, and the hearts of the vampires, still clutching each other like lifelines. As parts begin to be ripped off, and thrown through the air viciously, Louis suggests Lestat take cover in his hotel room until it calms. He doesn’t expect how quickly Lestat agrees, holding his hand like a toddler reunited with his mother after being lost. Briefly, Louis wonders if the rat-catcher needs to tag along, but Lestat assures him he has other acquaintances he can bother.
Getting to Louis’ borrowed room is fine, for the most part; it’s once they’re inside that he worries he may have given Lestat the wrong impression. He sees the naked hope in his eyes, tears forming a protective coating against the possibility of another rejection. But Louis smiles crookedly, squeezing Lestat’s hand and handing him a change of clothes and offering his coffin for the night.
They can get into the rest when he knows Lestat is more like himself.
====
Stepping out of the shower, steam of warmth following him, Louis could almost pretend they were back in their home with Claudia. Almost. But Lestat’s eyes are too deep, his usual bluster missing, and his form seeming almost small as he climbs into Louis’ coffin. They haven’t spoken much since the heartfelt conversation, as they’re still trying to process the emotions that poured out.
Louis clears his throat. “I’ll be quick. You can sleep first if you want. I also brought some blood bags with me if you’re hungry.” He points to the mini fridge. The manager downstairs had agreed to not let anyone inside his room, even if a fire broke out – which seems unlikely with the hurricane battering the area.
Lestat begins to speak, but only croaks out a weak sound. He tries again. “Thank you, Louis. I will consider the offer.” He lies down in the coffin, but leaves the lid open, his arms crossed over his middle.
Louis rushes to the bathroom, feeling tense suddenly. It’ll take more than one conversation for them to repair the damage of decades, and he knows Lestat still blames himself for everything. They can’t even speak her name to each other. But, if nothing else, they have time. Enough time to repent, to reconcile…to rebuild, even.
Louis showers as quickly as he can, practically rubbing his skin raw with how fast he washes. He realizes too late that he forgot a change of clothing, and has to exit in a towel around his waist. His heart begins to race; he doesn’t want to give Lestat the impression he’s offering something he can’t yet. He skitters out of the shower, zipping to his luggage for some sleep clothes, about to mumble an apology about not being dressed.
But Lestat is oddly silent. When Louis looks over, he has fallen asleep with a bloodbag held in one hand and his lips parted. His face is tipped to the side, breathing softly. Louis isn’t sure what’s more surprising: that Lestat is asleep with the coffin open, or that all the lights are still on.
He chuckles softly, and Lestat stirs, jolting up as if caught in an unsavory position. At least Louis didn’t flash him by accident. He turns off the lights quickly, offering to store Lestat’s meal if he’s finished. But he clings to the bag, his brow furrowed as if it’s somehow a precious relic because Louis brought it with him.
“You can keep it, don’t worry,” he says, smiling. “I just didn’t want you to spill it on yourself when you fall asleep again.”
“How dare you? When have I ever wasted blood in that way?” Lestat protests, but he smiles too. He hands it over, after a moment. “I’d rather have it when I’m more awake.”
“I’ll put it back. It’s all yours. And I can always order more… if you need,” Louis says, putting it away and closing the last of the lights.
Lestat’s eyes seem to glow in the dark, watching Louis’ expression closely. “I’d like that. Thank you, cher Louis.”
Louis can’t help the way his throat clicks, reminded of years long past; the events still raw in so many ways. Being with Armand was a relief in some ways: he provided calm, stability and peace. He protected Louis from the emotions strangling him like unwelcome hands. The same ones that Lestat always pulled out of him, and even encouraged him to release so he could be his true self – however cruel or violent it made him.
All it takes is two words, and Louis feels like he’s drowning in his own thoughts, tears prickling. How could he have thought that being coddled by Armand could compare to the intensity of his maker’s love?
Lestat watches him intently, parting his lips as if to speak. But Louis can’t deal with it right now. “Have a good rest. I’ll be on the bed over here, if you need anything.” He points uselessly, jumping in and pulling the blanket over his head like a coward.
Lestat shifts slightly, but then lies back down. He whispers. “Goodnight, Louis.”
==
When a bright light suddenly flashes over Louis’ eyes, he worries the hotel staff hasn’t followed his wishes. But when he sits up, clutching the blanket like a shield, he finds Lestat standing with his fingers gripping a tablet instead. It’s Louis, of course. All Lestat brought with him was his speaker and a coat when they rushed here in the storm.
“Apologies, Louis. I was merely trying to check the weather news, and triggered some camera …effect…thing.” He makes a flourish with one hand, still trying to figure out how to turn off the flash.
Louis groans, gesturing for him to hand it over. He disables the camera, and opens the browser for Lestat. “There you go.” He considers going back to sleep for a moment, but his stomach grumbles obnoxiously loud. “Guess I should eat.”
“I left you a bag of blood, as I finished the one from before.” Lestat’s stomach rumbles as if on cue. “Ignore that.”
Louis snorts a laugh, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I have more on the way. Take that one if you want. I ate a lot before landing.”
Lestat nods, getting the blood. He sips at it daintily, scrolling on the tablet with the other hand. When he finds what he’s looking for, he offers the rest to Louis, who takes it gratefully. Who knows when the delivery person would get here. The hurricane damage could be extensive, blocking access to the roads.
“If this weather app is to be trusted, the storm is over now,” Lestat says, hopeful. He sits at the mini bar, crossing his legs. “Do you have plans for the night? Now that you’ve seen me, I mean.” He takes a breath, saying in a voice so low: “Would you consider a hunt with me?”
Louis sees a repetition of the anxious, guilt-ridden expression in his eyes. And it nearly pushes him to hold Lestat in his arms again. He shakes his head instead. “No, I have to wait for the delivery like I mentioned. I’ll be waiting here for a while.” He can’t say that he’s too weak to go hunting with him. That he might be overcome with the need to indulge in his maker’s blood after he’s full with the life essence of a human. Louis still needs time to be with himself.
Lestat nods, sitting back in his chair. “I should contact the rat-hunting fledgling to make sure he survived.” He presses around on the tablet, scrunching his brows when whatever he’s searching for isn’t found.
“Can I help with something?” Louis offers, grinning at his frustration.
“No, I am perfectly –” He groans, biting into his bottom lip as his nails slide against the screen. “Ah, voila!” Lestat hands over the device, indicating a building with vines growing along its walls. “I have recently purchased this home for myself, as the other was…”
“Falling apart?” Louis offers gently, looking over the charming red-painted pillars, and rounded windows of the first floor. It’s a nice place, but too big for one person. “When did you buy this?”
Lestat swallows, looking away briefly. He folds in on himself, hands sliding up and down the silky sleepwear. “I knew there’d be nothing left of our…of my home when the storm ended. So, I made an offer while you slept.” He can’t make eye contact.
In the past, Louis’ shout would have been loud enough to shake the walls, and wake everyone in a mile radius, including the dead. But now he breathes a few times, thinking of the rocks he left back in Dubai. Almost feels them pressing into his soles.
“I see. Good for you. Looks great.” If he says any more, he knows it would only hurt the both of them. How could Lestat think he’d want to move back in with him after seeing him for just one night?
At the cold tone, Lestat looks up and nods. “Right. Of course. I had the time, and I haven’t been spending much money. So it was an easy decision.” He wrings his hands together, smiling without his eyes. “Where have you been living now?”
Louis shuts the tablet, not wanting to see the home that he could be sharing with Lestat. If he wasn’t in such a hurry. It’s still a nice, welcoming place. “I’ve been in Dubai. I’ll have to get some things to redecorate, with Armand’s things gone. Hopefully.”
“Has he not vacated yet?” Lestat says, tilting his head.
Rubbing his brow, Louis admits, “I didn’t stay around to watch. Just told him to pack up, and be gone when I came back. And then I got on the plane right after.” It hits him then that he hasn’t heard anything from Daniel in a while. He should call him to make sure everything went okay.
Lestat nods, clearly appreciating how quickly Louis came to see him after finding out the truth. “How long will you be staying?”
Louis considers if staying longer is safe for his attachment to Lestat. The more time they’re together, the more the memories overwhelm him; and the more he wants to touch and be near him. He can’t do that yet. He needs to be alone, be comfortable with just himself. Claudia was right about love making him stupid.
When Louis doesn’t respond right away, Lestat waves a hand. “I don’t expect you to stay with me, if that is worrying you.”
“No, not that. I have this room paid off for a while. I just need to contact the courier and a…friend.” If Louis starts talking about Daniel, the interview, everything he’s said, he can’t imagine Lestat will be happy to hear any of it.
“A friend, I see.” Lestat suddenly sounds closed off. “Yes, well, I too have to find the fledgling, so.” He starts to unbutton his sleepshirt, looking down at his hands as he does. “I will change into my old clothes and be out of your hair. I have suits in storage I need to collect.”
Louis feels his blood pressure rising, as if he’s back on Rue Royale, arguing with Lestat through their coffins. He grips his tablet so hard he hears something crack, so he lets it drop on the bed. “That’s fine.” He quickly jots down his number on a paper, walking over to Lestat, who is facing away from him and shirtless. He places the information down on the side table. “Here’s my contact information. I do want us to keep in touch. I just need some time to settle things.”
“I understand, Louis. No need to explain,” he says with his back still turned.
Louis almost wants to force him to look at him, to know what his face is saying. It’s ridiculous how jealous Lestat still is; not even willing to accept that Louis might have an actual friend.
“Make sure you send me your address as well, for the next time I come visit,” Louis says carefully, trying to be firm with his decision. If Lestat wants to think he’s involved again, that’s his problem. But he should understand that Louis still loves him, and just needs peace for a bit. It’s not forever. It’s for now.
Lestat smiles at that, cradling the paper in his palm. He turns to face Louis, shoving his previous shirt over his head. “I will, cheri. I promise.”
Louis considers telling him to stop using words of endearment, but he can’t. He can have that at least, right?
===
After Lestat leaves, Louis realizes he’s not even sure if Lestat has a phone to contact him. But the millennial fledgling can probably help him with that. He shoots off multiple messages to art galleries, to the storage where he kept items of Claudia’s youth. Then shifting his focus to the depressing instrument Lestat was playing on, he wonders if a piano would be too big a gift.
Considering that he was asking Louis to move in, it seems like a pretty safe step down. Besides, his old one is broken, so it’s just a replacement. After going back and forth for a couple hours, he decides on the purchase and awaits Lestat’s address. But he still hasn't contacted Louis with the info.
In the meantime, he emails and calls Daniel. He gets complete radio silence. Unsure if Daniel uses text messages, he tries that instead. /You ok? Did the flight home go well?/
Louis waits for any kind of answer, but he gets nothing. He calls again, an hour later, two, three. Still radio silence. Considering the man lives and breathes with his phone and laptop attached to him, this is worrisome.
Come on, Daniel. Pick up or answer a goddamn message! he thinks angrily.
Fuck off.
It’s so sudden and jarring that Louis almost thinks he imagined it. Daniel?
No, it’s the tooth fairy. What do you want, Louis?
He spends the next minute or two piecing it all together. Daniel’s speaking telepathically. And he’s doing it easily, so he can’t be in Dubai. On the plus side, at least he’s alive. But on the other hand– What happened? Who did this?
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the crazy-ex who likes to roleplay as a loving servant, and tortures journalists before erasing their memories. Just a hunch.
I’m so sorry. Louis very nearly offers to help him hunt down and kill Armand, but he knows even if he asked Lestat to help it wouldn’t be possible. He’s just too much stronger than them. I should have made sure you left with me.
Well, it’s too late now. I’m hungry so I’ll talk to you later.
And then Louis’s back to complete silence, with no way to know where Daniel is, or even get through to him. For a new vampire, he’s insanely capable. But it’s no surprise considering how well he did as a human, too.
After Louis’ rage at Armand is simmering more safely, he remembers to check his phone for answers and finally has Lestat’s new address. He wastes no time, and ships the grand piano over there - hoping it’ll fit. He only saw the outside of the place after all.
The delivery of his blood packs arrives, and Louis slurps up two as he considers ways to punish Armand if he ever sees him again. He might not be able to kill him, but he could burn some of his favorite clothes or art. Or tell Daniel all the things that bother Armand, so he can use them against him.
It’s while he’s jotting down a list of ways to push Armand’s buttons that he receives a notification. He assumes it’s a driver coming to get him, since he’s preparing to go back to Dubai. But it’s from the piano website:
“Dear client,
We regret to inform you that the delivery could not be completed. The recipient refused to accept the order. We will be refunding you for the purchase. Or you may contact the person so we can re-attempt delivery.”
===
Not wanting to bother Lestat, if that’s how he feels about receiving gifts, Louis silently fumes. And stares at his phone, hoping he’ll get a text so they can at least talk it through. His return to Dubai is put on hold briefly while he considers if he did or said anything to upset him. He couldn’t hold Lestat, or he’d clutch. He couldn’t kiss, or he’d devour. There’s no way to just dip a toe into the pool that is his crashing waves. It was all or nothing; so Louis needed time to accept that he wanted Lestat again. Was that so unreasonable?
His driver’s kind enough to wait downstairs for a few hours, while he paces. And then his phone vibrates. It’s a message from an unknown sender:
/Thank you, Louis, but I cannot accept. Take care. - L/
And that’s as much as Lestat wants to explain, apparently. It’s so cold, so unlike him, that Louis feels his eyes water. He grabs his suitcase and gets into the car, heading back to Dubai. It’s better this way.
===
Louis had hovered out of reach– emotionally and physically. Lestat felt like a stranger again, grasping at the remnants of the hug they shared during the hurricane. If this was how he could have Louis back in his life - shut off and sanitized - he didn’t want it. He would get a phone, yes, because a man needs to stay connected. But it wouldn’t be for Louis. He wouldn’t add Louis' number into it first. And he certainly wouldn’t nickname him ‘mon cher,” like his heart craved to do.
It was obvious Louis had moved on – destroyed by those older, and unappreciative of his everlasting beauty. If the damage hadn’t been done by him alone, it was ensured by the gremlin in Paris. And Claudia, dearest Claudia…Her death was enough to destroy more than hearts. Had it turned Louis’ to stone? Lestat balanced on a thin strip of sanity, reliving the moment of her downfall. Knowing she would disappear forever. Someone he didn’t want near him, for years, leaving such a gaping chasm of guilt behind.
And now Louis wanted nothing to do with him. Tant mieux alors. He was better off without the burden of his presence, a disaster walking.
When the fledgling returned with an Ephone, or whatever it was called, explaining the intricacies of it, he realized he had no one else to add as a contact. Louis would be the first after all. But it didn’t mean he had to send a message yet.
Two days later, a truck arrived at his crumbling home - a reflection of his emotional state all over again. The delivery person rang the bell, which didn’t work. Lestat opened the door a crack, quirking an eyebrow up at him.
“What do you want?” he barked.
The man swallowed and pointed behind him. It was a brand new, baby grand piano, ready to be left with him. A reminder of his past, along with the sender. Lestat swung the door open and growled, “I no longer play the piano. Remove it from my sight!”
The man furrowed his brows. “Look, pal–”
“I am not your pal! You insolent–”
“I’m just the delivery man. I was told to bring it here. Do you want me to bring it in or not?”
“I have already said, I do not want it.” He said each word through his teeth. He knew his eyes were growing darker when the man backed up, nodded and jumped into his truck.
“What was that?” calls the fledgling from another room.
Lestat was too angry to respond and shouted inside Felix’s head instead. It’s none of your business. Don’t ask again or I will break your legs.
===
Lestat expected Louis to call and scream. Perhaps send a harshly worded message through his cellular phone regarding the refusal of his gift. But he received nothing but a cold “Ok, Les.” And he’d be a fool to deny the way that nickname skittered up and down his spine. It almost made him more angry. Almost.
Instead he chose to leave the safety of his collapsing walls, intent on seeing what this new world could offer. Why Louis looked so refreshed, despite the pain of her loss.
It wasn’t easy at first. Everything was a reminder of the years spent with her; the times chasing her; when she refused to hunt acceptable blood. The flowers she liked to smell, the parks she watched young lovers and engorged on their lust, the glint in her eyes at discovering new laneways to sneak through.
But as Lestat walked through the familiar streets, the buildings the same but different, he reminded himself that she was freer in Paris. She had a companion at last there. Louis had the right idea; music always healed him in ways not much else could. But he couldn’t let him know rejecting the piano was a mistake.
He had his own money; he could buy another. So he did. And it wasn’t nearly as nice as the one Louis had sent over, but it did the trick. He began playing, releasing his tension in song, appreciating the well-loved keys of the instrument. It spoke to him, begging to be elsewhere. Asking for more.
When the fledgling stopped visiting, he took it as a sign that he moved on. As so many others before him had. It didn’t matter because Lestat wanted to move forward, too. He continued to roam the streets, not as flamboyant and radiant as he once had. But he appreciated whenever someone looked his way, and sucked in a quiet breath. They’d usually look away quickly; but the times when they continued to stare – Lestat felt alive again.
As he played more music, he sought out the songs of this age. The style shocked him at first, but he quickly grew to love the vast expanse of its variety. The beauty in all the shades of sounds and emotions. He knew what he had to do.
He’d probably known all along.